#but i mean... on the bright side the fact that she called me back to check bc something looked off is good so

[reputationolivia]

try again?

would anyone be interested in this, i thought of this plot awhile back and started working on it recently but i feel like its just gotten long and idk i feel like it might be a bit boring? so idk if anyone would be up for reading this! but i put a little snippet of it here so if anyone sees this please share your thoughts! :)

18+ minors dni

warnings: none for this one yet.

summary: you and harry dated for almost 5 years but you ended things, only problem? you got a cat together three years ago that you co-parent.

wc: 1.8k

I glanced around in search for opal as I tied the laces on my shoes. She’s always been good at hiding when she sees her crate out and ready for her, but i was ready for her today with her favorite treat in hand. "Opal, where are you baby?” I called for her. pacing through the living room I heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen, and i sighed, already knowing where she would be - the narrow gap between the counter and the fridge. I bend down and waved her treat in front of her little face to get her interested in it. “Come on out sweetie,” i coaxed, slowly her fluffy face popped out of the gap and she began licking the treat. I took this as my opportunity and gently tugged her out and scooped her up, letting her have the entire treat now as I walked over to her crate.

As I helped opal get settles into her crate I tried not to think too much about the trip ahead and what’s to come. The keys jingled in my hands as i snatched them from there small side table near the front door creating a slight sound of normalcy between all of the craziness my life has been lately. I slung my headphones around my neck, and with opal securely inside her carrier i finally stepped out into the bright, sunlit street. I caught my reflection in a car window and felt a bit ridiculous - sunglasses on, headphones dangling, and cat in tow - i shrugged it off and began my journey to the subway station.

The subway ride was pretty uneventful, at least it was at first. Opal was sitting quietly in her crate beside me as she watched the window in front of us, watching the city blur through the window. I put my headphones on and mindlessly browsed through Apple Music, i eventually decided on just playing “my station” after not being able to settle on any of my existing playlists. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular really, i mean besides the fact that I was currently on my way to meet my ex boyfriend of 4 1/2 years. As if my phone knew what was on my mind a familiar melody began playing, i felt my body tense as i recognized it immediately, my chest tightened and the air suddenly became too thick to breathe. I reached for my phone to skip to the next song. It was his song, of course it’d be my luck that’s the song that starts playing as I’m on my way to see him again. Of course, skipping it didn’t help, the damage was done.

Moving on has been hard, actually it’s been more than hard, it’s been hell, absolutely brutal. We were together for so long, four and a half years. That’s a long time to share a life with someone, it wasn’t just the memories that lingered though - it was our plans, the dreams we shared that we’d stay up all night talking about, when the world felt ours. Marriage, kids, a beautiful house with a garden, i thought it was all within reach, that it was just a matter of time. But now? Just the sound of his voice in a song sends me spiraling. It’s only been a couple months since we broke up, and seeing him as often as I do doesn’t exactly help with the whole “moving on” thing.

But now, all we have left is opal.

Opal. Our little baby. She wasn’t quite a child, but the closest thing we had. We adopted her when she was just a baby, three months old. After we broke up neither of us could bear to part with her. we had gotten her together so in the end we decided on co-parenting opal, which isn’t ideal but at the very least she had two people who loved her, and despite our failed relationship i knew she was safe with him. Even if seeing him every time i dropped her off still hurt.

The familiar ding of the subway pulled me out of my thoughts and i realized we were at our stop. I pulled my headphones back down to the back of my neck as i stood up, then grabbed opals crate and hopped off the subway. I felt like the subway ride ended far too quickly, and before i realized it i was walking up the now somewhat familiar street towards his apartment. as i got closer and closer each step i took felt heavier than the last. It felt like i was dragging the weight of everything we left unsaid, unresolved. I tightened my grip on opals crate, her quiet purring served as a reminder that despite everything, some things hadn’t changed.

But most things had.

I wasn’t the same person who used to walk the streets of New York with him by my side, laughing at the stupidest things, talking absentmindedly about everything, and nothing at all. Yet now it feels like that was a lifetime ago when in reality it was just a few short months ago. And now here i was, walking the streets of the city we once shared, alone. Having to act normal in front of the man i loved, love but trying not to as I’m about to hand over our cat like it was just some business transaction, something normal.

Ahead i spotted him standing in front of his building. He was leaning against the wall near the doors to the lobby, looking down at his phone, a casual stance that didn’t betray any of the turmoil i was feeling. Typical harry, i thought. Always composed, always calm. I wished i could say the same for myself. I reached up with my free hand to adjust my sunglasses, hoping they hid more than just the sun from my eyes. As i approached his eyes were still glues to his phone, did he even notice i was walking up to him? Now a few feet away from him, i clear my throat in hopes of catching his attention, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

He finally looks up, his green eyes meeting mine, and though he couldn’t see mine due to my sunglasses i swore i could see something flash in his - recognition? Annoyance? Regret? I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe I’m just imagining things. “Hey,” he said, finally pushing off the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey,” i replied, keeping my voice as steady as i could even though every bit of me felt like breaking and like my voice was shaking with the tension of being this close to him. We walk into the lobby and i crouch down to let opal out. Immediately, she dashed out of her crate, and toward him, brushing against him with a happy meow. I couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy i felt at how easily she seemed to adjust to this life of back and forth we’d created for her. I wish it was that easy for me.

“It’s been a while, nice shoes by the way.” Harry said as he crouched down, scratching opal behind her ears. He didn’t look at me when. He said it, instead keeping his eyes on opal. I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a subtle dig when he said it’s been a while. “Yeah works been a bit hectic, and thanks.” I responded as i stood there awkwardly and hugged my arms to myself. Suddenly the distance between us felt a lot larger than just a few feet.

He stood up slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine, and i just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “How’ve you been?” He asked, for a moment i almost believed he actually wanted to know.

Good. You?”

“Same.” he said, glancing down at opal again.

The conversation stalled, i could feel the silence expanding between us, this is all we had now — awkward exchanges, empty words just to fill the space where something real used to be. I wanted so badly just to say something, anything that could break through the surface. I didn’t even know where to start, everything felt too different, too fragile and close to breaking. Opal meowed again, winding between our legs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s been eating normally. Likes to hide under the bed more often lately but that’s probably because of all the travel recently.” Harrys eyes softened a little. “Yeah, she’s always liked her hiding spots huh.” He paused, then added, “I’ve missed her.” His words hung there, suspended in the air between us for a while and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was just talking about opal. I nodded at his words, something about the way he said it lingered longer than it should have, i tried to push it aside, maybe I’m just reading too much into his words. Looking down at opal again i sighed, “i’ll uh, see you later.” I mumbled, now just wanting to get out and as far away from this awkward situation as possible. I turned to walk away before he could say anything, i felt his eyes on me as i made my way towards the lobby door. His gaze was sticking with me more than i wanted it to.

As i exited the building, i felt my footsteps heavy on the ground again. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and trying to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs. How i wish i could be done with all this. I couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on our past, especially not with everything going on. At least through all this change i still had my job, and im fortunate enough to really love my job. My job has always been my escape, allowing be to take a break from my real life and everything i had going on. I could create stories outside my own, i could be in control, or at the very least, i could pretend to be. But in moments like this, i was just me - and I couldn’t pretend to be anyone else. I had no script or direction, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The months after the breakup have been such a blur, it’s like I’ve been moving on autopilot. Filming, press events, and trying to keep it together in front of the cameras. I was good at that. I’ve played so many different roles, performed rehearsed lines perfectly, but none of that could’ve prepared me for the messy reality of seeing him. Missing him.

[interiorlulus]

Slightly embarrassing convo with my gastroenterologist but I survived.

[scarlethexelove]

Hey are to taking requests I’m think about g!p Wanda where reader lost her job and feels like she’s good for nothing but Wanda reminds her that she’s good for everything and what it starts very soft ends up being in rough s*x reader ends up being pregnant

Perfect Little Housewife

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2934

Warnings: Poor Reader gets fired, a little bit of depressed reader, crying, comfort, Smut, Wanda has a penis, soft sex, rough sex, Mommy kink, breeding, Wanda calls reader slut once, obviously unprotected sex, a bit of choking, reader gets pregnant.

A/n: I love the request but as a note Anon I would like it if you didn't use the term g!p it can be offensive to some and I try my best to be respectful. So in the future you could either say intersex or just plainly that she has a penis thanks 😊 But I hope you like it cause I did enjoy this one.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

A tear slips down your cheek as you set the box full of your things on the kitchen island. Fired is what just happened to you. Well they said you were being laid off but it is essentially the same thing in your mind. You're so useless that you can’t even keep your job. How are you supposed to support yourself and your wife if you lost your job? You loved your job and were good at it, so out of all the employees why did it have to be you. 

A few more tears fall as you let out a sigh. Your hands are gripping the counter on either side of the box as you look down. On top is a picture of you and your wife on your wedding day. Bright and happy smiles at the prospect of a great future but where is that future now. Tears land on the glass and roll down the front. How are you going to tell Wanda? What is she going to think of you? You're a failure. 

You don’t hear the door or the soft footsteps creeping towards you. You’re so lost in your thoughts of failure that you missed the fact that your wife is home. Wanda walks into the kitchen seeing you hunched over a box and the sounds of your sniffles causing a look of worry to cross her face. “Detka?” Wanda calls out to you. You quickly stand up straighter and wipe furiously at your eyes to clear the fallen tears. You turn around hoping that you have composed yourself enough. “Wanda.” You're a bit shocked to see her home so early. “What’s wrong moya lyubov'.” She rushes over to you having seen your red puffy eyes and the slight shake of your hands. Her hand reaches to gently cup your cheek, her thumb rubbing against the skin tenderly. “N-nothing.” You try to sound more assured of yourself but the slight stutter doesn’t fool your wife. 

Wanda pulls you into her, wrapping her arms around you tightly. You can’t help but let yourself break in her arms. A sob you didn’t know that you were holding in escapes from your lips. You grip the front of Wanda’s shirt tightly as you cry into her shoulder. You can’t help as you cry harder because of how pathetic you are right now. First you lose your job and now you're crying like a baby. But Wanda is soothing, her touch brings you comfort. Her hand gently rubbing at your back as she kisses your head, quiet shushes as she gently rocks you. You don’t know how long you cry for but they eventually calm, Wanda not stopping her menstrations to calm you. 

Once you had completely stopped crying Wanda pulled you back far enough so that she could get a good look at you. She wipes the tears with her thumbs as she cups your face in her hands. “Moya lyubov’ please tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice is soft and so reassuring, but there still is a voice in the back of your head that screams that you are a failure. You let out a shuttered sigh. “I was fired … Well laid off b-but that still means I’m nothing.” You thought you were all done crying but more tears shine in your eyes. “Oh Y/n/n you're not nothing. Detka we will be just fine.” You shake your head pulling away from her grasp. “I’m useless. I can’t even keep my job to help provide for you.. For us. What kind of wife am I? Then here I am bawling like a fucking idiot because of how useless I am.” Your sorrow turns a bit bitter, but not at her but at yourself. 

You're now muttering and pacing around at how bad of a wife you are and how pathetic you are. Wanda hates to see you so down on yourself. “Detka.” Wanda tries to get your attention but you don’t even acknowledge her. “Y/n/n.” She tries again but it's still the same. “Y/n!” She is louder and more assertive which causes you to stop in your tracks. Wanda takes this as a chance. She grabs your hips and turns you, pressing your back against the island. “Y/n, sweetheart you are not pathetic or a failure. They were stupid for letting you go.” She gives you a kind and reassuring smile. She helps calm you down with her soft voice and soft touches. 

Wanda leans in kissing your lips softly. “You are beautiful, kind, and amazing. I love you so much. You can stay home or you can come work for me if you really want to.” She pecks your lips constantly throughout her words. She knows just how to soften you up to bring you off of the ledge. “Okay.” You breathe out. Wanda kisses you again pouring all of her love for you into that single kiss. 

You two slowly make out in the kitchen. A need for comfort turning into a need for one another. Wanda easily lifts you onto the counter. You let your legs fall open and Wanda slots herself between them. She smiles into the kiss at your action before she is licking at your bottom lip asking for entrance. You gladly allow her access. A moan escapes your throat as Wanda’s tongue meets yours and she grinds her hips into yours. You can already feel her growing bulge. 

Your hands move down and start to fiddle with the button on Wanda’s pants. You struggle to focus on the kiss as you try to undo her pants. “Please.” You whimper against her lips as you fidget. She smirks, moving to push your hands away and undoing her pants swiftly. But she lets them sit around her hips revealing the top of her boxer shorts. You try to push her pants down but she stops you. Clicking her tongue. “Not yet detka. Mommy wants to see you.” You whine but nod. Wanda reaches to take off your shirt which you help by lifting your arms. 

Wanda’s lips meet yours again in another soft kiss. Her hand reached around your back and unhooked your bra. She doesn’t break the kiss as she pulls it down your shoulders and completely off. Her hands now take their place kneading at your breast. You moan in her mouth as she works you up. Gently kneading before her fingers pinch and twist at your sensitive nipples. “Ahh Mommy.” Your hips buck against hers feeling her cock straining against its fabric confines. “Please.” You whimper. 

Wanda moans as you buck into her. “Since you asked so nicely detka.” Wanda’s hands move down and hook into the hem of your pants and underwear. You lift your hips slightly allowing her to pull them both down in one fell swoop. She steps back to pull them all the way off and toss them to the side with the rest of your clothes. She can already see your wetness smearing on your thighs making her groan. You reach out for her wanting her close but she doesn’t move. Her eyes meet yours before she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to the side before she reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra letting it fall from her shoulders onto the floor. You so desperately want to touch her and for her to touch you that you let out a whine giving her grabby hands. Wanda clicks her tongue at you. “Patiences moya lyubov’.” She smirks at your neediness. Wanda then pushes her pants down her legs. You can now see her strained cock and the small wet spot of precum that has stained her boxers.

It takes everything in you not to just jump off the counter and rid Wanda of the rest of her clothing. But not soon after Wanda is pushing her boxers down to meet her pants around her ankles. Her cock slapped against her lower stomach. She kicks her clothes from around her ankles off and slots herself back between your waiting legs. Wanda pumps her cock a few times before swiping through your folds stopping to gently nudge at your pulsing clit. You both moan at the action. 

“Fuck malyshka you’re so wet for me.” Wanda groans as she teases your folds. “Mommy please.” You wrap your legs around her waist pulling her closer. Wanda’s desire finally wins over as she presses the tip against your entrance. She slowly pushes in. Your walls stretch to accommodate her size. Your body's desire to be stretched and filled by your wife. She keeps pushing until she is all the way in your warm walls eloping her length. Both of you moan when her hips meet yours. 

You wrap your arms around Wanda’s shoulders lacing your fingers through her hair pulling her into a kiss. As you lips meet Wanda begins to gently thrust into you. She begins to fuck you at a steady pace. Each thrust deep and precise, hitting the spongy spot deep inside of you. Whimpers and moans being swallowed by Wanda’s mouth. 

The sensual moment between the two of you as Wanda doesn’t just fuck you but makes love to you. No matter where you are in life you will always be the most important thing in Wanda’s life. She wants you to feel all of that. This isn’t about being horny it is about showing you how much she loves and cherishes you. All you can hope to do is reflect the same amount of love that she has for you back to her. 

Wanda’s hips keep their steady pace as you continue to softly make out with one another. It’s messy but filled with love. Her arms wrap tightly around you and pull you impossibly closer to her. Your mutual moans being swallowed by the other as you grind back. Your fingers gripping her hair as you break to catch your breath. She leans her forehead against yours. Her eyes looking down to where your two bodies are joined. Small pants as she thrusts perfectly angeling herself every time. “Such a good girl for Mommy. I love you so much detka.” Wanda mumbles against your lips as she gives you a kiss. “Lo-Love you too Mommy.” You mumble breathily. 

Your walls tighten around Wanda’s length as the knot in your lower abdomen tightens. Getting closer to the edge of release. Wanda right there with you, her thrust becoming a bit more sloppy. Your walls clamp around her as her length twitches inside of you. She grinds into you as she thrust in, pleasure shooting through you as you grind back. Your walls are squeezing her perfectly. Your moans are growing as you let your head fall forward onto her shoulder. She gently kisses your other shoulder as you squeeze her tightly. 

Wanda can tell you close. She wants you to finish with her, to feel you release all over her cock. She lightly nips and sucks at the skin around your neck and shoulder, sure to leave marks behind. “Cum detka. I wanna feel you fall apart.” She mumbles against your skin. Her thrust never having turned more than a steady pace continuing to drive into you. You moan as the knot snaps, letting go. Your legs tighten around her waist as your walls spasm around her length. Your cum coating her cock as she grinds into you. Her cock twitches as she releases inside of you. Your walls are being coated by her white sticky liquid. 

Feeling you cum and your walls sucking her in, greedy to milk her dry flips a switch inside of Wanda. She starts to speed up her thrust as spurts of cum coat your walls. She wants to fill you full. Feel you grip her cock like a vice. So instead of bringing you down from your high she starts to build a new one. Her hips now pistoning into you, her cock quickly disappearing in and out of your sticky hole. 

“Mommy.” You whimper confused. “Shhh detka, let Mommy use you now.” She grunts and with a particularly hard thrust you moan. That desirable flip switching inside of you at the change of your wife. You love how she can be soft one moment but rough the next. 

Wanda pulls out of you but before you can even complain about being empty she has manhandled you into a new position. She pulls you off the counter and turns you around. She presses in the middle of your back making you lean over the counter before she grabs your hips harshly and swiftly thrust her full length back inside of you. “Mommy!” You moan out loudly, her thrust at a fast and brutal pace from the start this time. She jackhammers her hips into yours, bouncing off your ass. Her fingers dig into your hips as she grunts. The force of her thrust moves your whole body. 

Your moans bounce off the walls of the kitchen as Wanda continues to thrust into you from behind. She slaps her hand down on your ass causing you to clench around her. “Oh you like that you, you little slut.” She smirks leaning over you, her breast pressed against your back. All you can do is nod your head as another slap connects with your ass cheek. Another loud moan falling from your lips. “Fuck so perfect for Mommy moya lyubov’.” She kisses your shoulder. “M-Mommy’s.” You mumble in agreeance. 

Wanda thrust in and out of you perfectly with each stroke. “Fuck. What if Mommy gets you pregnant baby hmm. You don’t need a job. Mommy will take care of you. You’ll be my perfect little housewife.” You close your eyes, nodding as you moan. “You like that detka? Mommy filling you with her babies.” Wanda grunts as she continues to thrust. Her hand that was left on your hip moving up to your throat and gently squeezing. She pulls both of your bodies up as she never falters her thrust. Her other arm wrapping around your waist keeps your body close to hers. “P-Please!” You moan, your hands gripping her arms wrapped around you digging your nails into her flesh.  

You and Wanda have leisurely talked about kids but nothing solid but her words play in your head. Now would be perfect and she is right she makes enough to support all of you. She can support not only the both of you but all the kids you could ever desire to have together. The door to a career may have closed but another door to a whole new life has opened. One that you are willing to risk it all for. 

“Mommy’s going to fill you so full of her cum. I’ll keep filling this perfect little hole until you're pregnant with my child. Fuck.” Wanda grunts, her thrust becoming sloppy as she draws nearer to her impending orgasm. Your walls are desperately sucking her in just begging to be filled even more. “Want you babies Mommy. Please fill me.” Your words are breathy as Wanda’s hand around your throat tightens.

With Wanda’s hand on your throat and her thrusts you're soon falling over the edge. Your walls clamp hard around her shaft as your head falls back. Silently screaming as you fall over the edge. Your cum once again mixes with hers as your orgasm washes over. Your body trembling in her hold. Her thrust is sloppy as she grows near. The power she has over you in this moment has thrust hard one more time before unloading inside of you. You don’t know how it is possible but she unloads more cum inside of you than the last time. The prospect of getting you pregnant and starting a family with you exciting the other woman. 

Wanda’s thrust slows down as she helps ride the both of you through your highs. If she wasn’t holding onto you so tightly you know your legs would have given out under you. She holds you tight, slowing her pace to a stop when you whimper from a bit of overstimulation. She kisses the side of your head gently as she pulls out of you. “You did so good for me moya lyubov’.” You let out a content sigh as you relax back into her arms. “Thank you Wands.” You mumble with your eyes closed. “Anything for you my love.” She kisses your shoulder gently before she picks you up bridal style. She gently carries you to your shared bedroom and places you on the bed. She quickly gets both of you cleaned up before she slides into the bed next to you. 

You snuggle into Wanda’s side as she wraps her arms around you tightly. Her one hand laying to rest on your stomach. You look up at her seeing her smiling back down at you. You giggle and blush. “Whatttt.” She just chuckles. “You’ll be pregnant. I’m sure of it. We'll have a perfect little family before you know it.” She kisses your lips gently. “How can you know that?” You ask her. “I just know it detka. You’re going to be pregnant with my babies and you get to be my perfect little housewife.” You hum at her words knowing that your wife is never wrong about these things. Snuggling close into her as you let the thoughts of your future take hold. Your eyes sliding shut with a wide smile on your face as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

[roosterforme]

This blurb is based on an anonymous request for a birthday treat for @phoenix-rising-starbird-one Happy birthday, Vonny!

Designated Driver (Bob Floyd x Reader)

contains fluff, mentions of drinking, and Bob shooting his shot

The best thing about the Hard Deck was that Bob could walk there from his place. It gave him a few minutes to himself on the way there and on the way home to clear his head. He loved his friends, he really did, but they could be a handful when they had too much to drink. They liked to get a little rowdy, while he rarely drank alcohol at all. At least they never assumed he would drive them home, and they usually just called for an Uber instead while he walked back along the peaceful streets alone.

But the Hard Deck was closed for an extended refurbishment, and everyone insisted on trying a new bar on the other side of Coronado on Friday night. Bob knew what that meant. One look at his new SUV with the extra row of seats, and they would all be bugging him to drive them home. In fact, it started while he was still at work on Friday afternoon.

"Hey, Baby on Board," Jake called when Bob tried to sneak out of the locker room unnoticed. "You mind giving me a ride to and from the bar tonight?"

"Oh!" Javy chimed in. "Me too."

"I'm like two streets away from Javy," Bradley interjected. "Mind getting me on the way?"

Bob sighed but ultimately shook his head. "No, I don't mind. I'll pick you all up."

Three hours later, he was pulling away from the curb in front of Mickey's apartment with all of his friends in tow. Nat was in the front seat navigating for him while Reuben selected which song he wanted for the ten minute drive, and Bob was already looking forward to dropping them all back off and going home later.

The bar left a lot to be desired, especially compared to the Hard Deck, and he immediately felt out of place. He was about to go sit outside when Nat rubbed his arm and said, "Why don't you go grab that empty bar stool? Next to the cute girl?"

He turned to look where his friend was pointing, and a second later, his mouth was hanging open. "She's beautiful," he whispered, and soon his friend was guiding him in your direction where you were perched on a bar stool, reading a book.

"She looks exactly like your type," Nat mused. "She's drinking a bottle of Coke and reading a novel at a bar."

Bob was busy taking in every inch of your pretty face, and the closer he got, the faster his heart pounded. Without another word, Nat shoved him so he bumped into the empty stool next to yours, and you looked up in surprise.

"Sorry," he muttered as his friend vanished. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He was sure his face was bright red, flushed with embarrassment as you saved your spot with your bookmark and smiled at him. "It's okay."

Bob cleared his throat. "Would you mind if I sit here?"

Your smile grew as you shook your head. "Not at all. Maybe if my friends see me talking to you, they'll get off my back about being antisocial. It's not my fault I prefer books over playing darts."

As he slid into the seat next to yours, he said, "Books are way better than darts. I read that one last month."

"Really?" you asked with excitement as he pointed to the spine. "I love this author."

"Me too," he replied, still in awe over you. Then he decided he really had nothing to lose. "If I would have known the most beautiful woman at the bar was bringing a book with her tonight, I'd have brought one, too."

You made a cute little noise ducked your head away from him, and he hoped he hadn't embarrassed you too much. A few seconds later, you looked up at him with a grin and said, "Well, since you didn't, maybe we can just talk instead?"

"I would love that," Bob promised. "Will you let me buy you another drink?"

"Okay, but just a Coke. I'm the designated driver tonight, and I'm not much of a drinker anyway."

Bob laughed as he waved down the bartender and said, "Two Cokes for the designated drivers, please."

"You, too?" you asked him, your smile bright again.

When he nodded in response, he held out his right hand. "I'm Bob, by the way."

Your fingers glided along his, and you told him your name as you shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Bob. I must admit, the last thing I anticipated was meeting a man with good taste in books tonight."

He laughed softly as the bartender dropped off two cold bottles of Coke. "I would have never guessed that the coolest woman here would let me buy her a drink."

You looked very pleased with yourself, and a beat later, you held your hand out again. "Why don't you just go ahead and give me your phone so I can save my number for you?" Bob scrambled to pull it out of his pocket as you added, "Maybe next time we can ditch our friends and the bar and talk about books somewhere quieter?"

"Absolutely," he said with a smile as you saved the number he already couldn't wait to text later.

----------------

Happy birthday, Vonny! I hope you enjoyed the actual story of how my parents met lol

[cornsoupflavour]

Sorry, I Found Better (Twice NSFW Smut)

[ New Collaboration Pt. 2 – See Pt. 1 ]

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

TWICE Mina Myoi x Manager!Male Reader

Tags: 3.5k words, semi-cheating, multiple creampies, sweat, sharing, manager x idol, romance, wholesome, possible breeding/impreg, body praise

Months after her encounter with the new idol, Mina realised that she wanted more. Not more of him, but more of that feeling he gave. After some reflection, she realised he didn’t satisfy her as much as she wanted him to. Even the collaboration faded into the back of both their minds. After the two drifted apart despite the hope he had for the both of them to continue to see each other, Mina was left feeling rather empty – both physically and figuratively.

The feeling became worse after the whole incident with you and Momo. That whole ordeal made her feel some type of way, like that was what she wanted. She wasn’t sure if it was you, Momo or the both of you, she wanted to get a taste of whatever you two had. But alas, with the fact you and Momo were dating now, it felt as if that were to never come true.

It’d been a while since she treated herself to some retail therapy, and thought that might be what she needed at the time. She grabbed her things, put on a really spicy outfit, and headed out.

She walked around the mall, checking out branded bags and jewelry when she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Mina?"

Mina turned around to be greeted with Momo’s bright smile and tantalisingly curvy body. Mina’s smile widened even further as she saw you approaching from behind Momo.

"Momo!"

The two girls leaped into each other’s embrace excitedly. It’s been a week or so since they last saw each other in person but it seemed as though that was long enough. The girls chatted for a bit, giggling and gossiping. You couldn’t help but notice Mina, sneaking in glances at you, once in a while.

You flashed a warm smile each time you felt her gaze on you. You might be with Momo, but you couldn’t deny the allure Mina had on you.

"Anyway, I’ve gotta be somewhere now, you two have fun, alright~?" Mina chimed as she pulled Momo in for a really tight hug. "Mr. Manager, huh? Good job, Momo... Say, you up to share?"

"With you Mina? Of course~ TWICE’s J–Line has to stick together right?"

Wow, she thought Momo would be more possessive... Maybe this could be the start of something new and special.

"Mhm~"

"But I mean, I won’t say no if the other girls ask to share him either... As long as I remain his favourite~"

"Hehe~ Of course~"

Your eyes shifted around, unable to discern what the whispering was about. But as quickly they embraced, they pulled away. Mina gave Momo a fluttery wave before turning to you and winking.

As Mina left, Momo wrapped her arms around yours before continuing the errands you had to run.

Later on that night, as you had settled into a comfortable routine with Momo by your side, nestled in your bed. You were about to drift off to sleep when your phone buzzed. It was Mina.

"What? It’s like... 11PM..."

Momo turned over, her beautiful eyes locking with yours with a soft gaze.

"Who is it, baby? Is it Mina?"

"Yeah, how’d you know?"

Momo giggled, bringing her hand up to your cheek and caressing it gently.

"Us girls just know... But I encourage you to go, trust me."

A soft smile graced her lips as she leaned forward and planted a soft but longing kiss on yours. A few moments later, the both of you pulled away. You nodded reluctantly as you got out of bed, walking over to your closet to grab some new clothes.

"If she asks to head back to her place, do it. I’ll be fine tonight, baby. Don’t worry about me~"

You frowned a little, as you approached her side of the bed to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. "Are you two planning something?"

"Hmm... You’ll just have to find out~"

You shook your head amused before grabbing the keys and heading out. "Love you, Momo. If you need anything, just call, alright?"

Momo nodded, "Love you too, Y/N~ Bring my beloved Mr. Manager back in one piece, alright?"

"I will," you chuckled as you left your home and made your way to the meeting spot Mina had picked. Luna Cafe... 

Upon arriving, the lights around the cafe were dim. Not in a ‘scary, dangerous alleyway’ dim but more of a ‘romantic evening with your spouse’ type dim. You walked in, amazed that a cafe would still be open at this time of night. The lights within the cafe were the same romantic dim, a soft jazz tune playing in the background.

You scanned the patrons before spotting Mina, seated in a corner. Her eyes zeroed in on you the moment you walked in. When your gazes finally met, she waved you over. She wore a white turtleneck, a black coat and some tight black jeans.

You approached the table, a soft smile on your face as you took a seat. "So, Mina, you wanted to see me? What’s going on?"

"Mr. Manager... I have to come clean... Earlier this year, I met a new idol..."

Mina began to explain her situation and what she did. You sat there listening attentively. Once done, she sighed.

"But, I don’t know. Something felt missing between us. Or well, it felt as though HE was missing something..."

"What might that be?"

"I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but... when we caught you and Momo in the hotel room the other night... I realised that was what he was missing."

You blushed deeply. You and Momo had already slept and fucked well over three times now, but somehow, you still feel embarrassed and shy when someone brought it up. "W–What do you mean? What did you realise?"

Mina breathed a deep sigh before placing her hands onto yours, her thumbs tracing circles on the back of your hands. "I realised... he wasn’t you, Mr. Manager..."

"...I guess I’ll just come out and say it... Mr. Manager, I want you to fuck me the same way you did Momo."

Your eyes widened. Did she really just say that? "Mina... Y’know, I..."

"If this is about how Momo would react, don’t worry about it. I made sure to discuss this with her and Jihyo before this. Please, Mr. Manager... please show me that you love me as much as you love Momo and the others..."

You froze. This was... quite the temptation. You took a moment to yourself to think. As you looked into her eyes, her motherly yet youthful appearance, her gummy smile and her toned body... You couldn’t say no.

"Alright, Mina. I’ll do it. Is there anything else you’d want me to do before we go through with this? I take it you want to join my relationship with Momo."

Mina's eyes lit up with excitement, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Yes, please. Let's go to my place. It's not far." she said, standing up from the table.

"Like right now...?"

Mina nodded, a slight seductive glint in her eye. That’s when you remembered what Momo said and decided to go with it.

You followed her out of the cafe, the two of you strolling through the quiet streets. The night air was cool, the city lights casting a soft glow over the surrounding area. The both of you engaged in some small talk, discussing music, the latest gossip within the industry and what it’s like to be dating THE Momo Hirai.

"Y’know, you’re a lucky man. In–charge of a group of attractive girls, even dating one of them? I know people who would kill to be in your place..."

"Yeah, I really lucked out. Momo’s the best thing to have ever happened to me... besides becoming TWICE’s manager, of course."

The both of you chuckled as you felt her body leaning slightly onto yours. She wrapped her arms around one of yours as you walked. Initially, you felt a little put off, but you slowly warmed up to it. If Momo says it's alright, it's alright.

A few moments later, the two of you arrive at her apartment. Mina's apartment was cozy and filled with a sense of warmth. The smell of recently–baked cookies lingered throughout the space. There were posters of various artists adorning her walls, including TWICE and some of her solo endeavors.

"Comfortable, right?" Mina asked, leading you to a couch.

"Very much so. I didn’t think you’d keep all the posters I gave all of you for each of your tours..." you replied, taking a seat.

"Yeah well, you gave them to me, so I gotta, right?"

Mina sat beside you, her hand gently brushing against yours. "I appreciate you coming here, Mr. Manager. I know this is a little confusing for you, especially since you're already with Momo."

"It's alright, Mina. Momo’s alright with it and I want to make you happy too," you assured her.

Your gazes locked as she slowly brought her face closer to yours. Your lips met, your tongues dancing together in an intimate embrace. Mina's hands slid down, gripping your waist before moving lower to unbuckle your belt.

She pulled away momentarily, "Mr. Manager–"

"Please, Mina... call me Y/N."

Mina blushed slightly, "A–Alright, Y/N... I want you to breed me, alright?"

Your eyes widened, unsure if what you heard was right. Breed? Like... start a family? Mina could sense the shock behind your widened eyes.

"You heard me right, Y/N... I discussed this with Momo... she said that she’d allow you to get me pregnant... but if you want to breed her first, I’d totally understand."

You stuttered, unable to get words out of your mouth. Before long, your body moved on its own, leaning forward and joining your lips together once more. It appears your decision has been made. Whether it happens or not, you are going to attempt to breed Mina.

As the makeout continued, Mina pulled away once more. "Y/N, wait. Let me get changed into something... nicer for you~"

Your hands lingered on her hips, almost not wanting her to leave but a little wink from her left a smirk on your face. You waited patiently, checking your phone for any messages. Momo had just sent some.

Momo 🥰🥰: hey baby~ everything going well?

You: everything’s fine here baby, im back at mina’s

You: how about you? everything alright back at home?

Momo 🥰🥰: mhm

Momo 🥰🥰: just missing my beloved man is all~

Momo 🥰🥰: anyway, im not gonna bother you

Momo 🥰🥰: breed her well okay, baby? im trying to be an auntie here~

You chuckled to yourself.

You: alright baby, ill do my best

Momo 🥰🥰: okay~ get home safe, and if youre still not satisfied, im always open for a breeding~

You blushed hard as the both of you bid farewell. As you put your phone away, you looked up and felt your cock spring out from your undone pants. Mina sauntered in, her tight and fit body adorned in a beautiful feathered–blue jacket and a sexy light blue top and skirt.

Your mouth hung slightly agape as the goddess of a woman entered the room.

"So? How do I look?"

"...I need you so fucking bad."

You leaped up and wrapped your arms around her waist, engaging in a hot makeout once more. You dragged her back onto the couch and adjusted your member so that its tip is perfectly aligned with her slit.

It felt as though you weren’t in control any longer as you impaled her onto your cock, the tip bottoming her out almost immediately. She moaned loudly, arching her back to meet your every thrust. "Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking big~! Just like Momo said you’d be~" she cried out.

You increased your pace, slamming your whole length into her as you showered her upper body with kisses. You began to lick her breasts erratically, it felt like you’d gone insane with lust.

As the intensity increased, Mina’s moans grew louder. "Ahhh, Y/N... you’re making me cream all over your cock," she panted.

You grinned, loving the wetness engulfing your length with each plunge. As you drowned in the sensations, you reached up, fondling her breasts while you ravaged her pussy. Mina arched her back, her heaving chest begging for more as her moans morphed into cries of pleasure.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." she groaned, her fingers digging into your shoulders.

You could feel her warm folds begin to quiver around you, a sign that she was nearing her climax. Her walls clenched tight, making you feel like you were the owner of the most sought–after toy.

"Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don’t stop..." Mina pleaded, her nails digging into your flesh as her orgasm claimed her.

Her cunt milked you like a greedy monster, and you couldn’t help but match her rhythm, feeling the familiar tinge of your own impending release.

"Mina, I’m close, baby..." you warned, your voice raspy.

"Knock me up, Y/N..." she cried out, her voice shaking as she looked deep into your eyes, urging you to fill her with your seed.

Your thrusts became more erratic, your hips bucking as you lost all semblance of control. With a loud grunt, you exploded, flooding her insides and filling her with your hot cum.

Mina continued to shake, her orgasm reasserting itself as you spilled your load into her. When your orgasm subsided, you collapsed onto her, panting heavily.

"Holy shit, Mina... you’re... unbelievable..." you said, your breath still catching in your throat.

Mina smiled, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. "Momo said you’d say that."

You began to pull out, admiring the evidence of your defilement on Mina’s thighs. Her hand rested on your abdomen. "Hold on, you didn’t think we were gonna stop after one round did you?"

Mina gazed longingly into your eyes as she pushed her lips against yours in a deep and passionate kiss. "Until further notice... I’m claiming you... You belong to me and Momo now~"

The both of you smirked before Mina broke the kiss, a wicked grin on her face. She readjusted herself as she made you lay back on the couch. Before long, she straddled you again. This time, however, her demeanour was different; she was in full control... Mina was in–charge now. Her hands gripped your shoulders tightly as she lowered herself further onto your cock, her pussy swallowing your whole length once again.

"Ahhh, Y/N, I’m..." her voice quivered as she bounced, her sultry voice pleading for more of your thick shaft. Mina began to ride you, her movements slow but deliberate. Each time she rose, she’d slide almost entirely off you, teasing your tip with her wet entrance.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." Mina’s tone was demanding, taking charge of the situation. She set a relentless pace, her slender thighs gripping your hips, her pelvis rocking back and forth. Her hands rose to her soft breasts, groping and squeezing them desperatrely. You did the same.

"Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don’t stop..." She cried out, her moans deafening within the small apartment. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours. "THAT’S IT– YOU’RE MINE~"

Mina began to bounce faster, her cries growing louder as the scent of sex began to fill the room. Her hand reached between her legs, rubbing her clit while she rode you. Within minutes, she began to shake, her inner walls clenching you tightly.

"C–CUMMING–! C–Cum with me, Y/N!" Mina begged, her voice trembling.

Your hands gripped her hips. You didn’t think either of you could cum again this quickly, but Mina has shown you her sexual prowess and you just couldn’t hold back your own release anymore, your hips bucking to meet her rhythm. 

Together, you both climaxed, Mina’s orgasm pushing you over the edge. You pumped her full once more, your seed spilling into her as she collapsed on your chest, her hair draped over your face like a veil.

Panting, she whispered into your ear, "You better get used to this, Y/N. Momo and I are going to milk you dry."

"Oh, Mina... What do you think Momo has been doing with me the past few days?" You chuckled, sweat dripping down your forehead. "But hey, I’m not complaining, Mina."

Mina hugged you tightly, her heartbeat syncing with yours. You both remained intertwined, sharing this intimate moment in silence, savoring the afterglow.

She leaned up slightly, her outfit messy but still intact. The way her back arched made you shoot a little cum into her still impaled body.

"One last time?" she asked.

"I can’t say no to you~"

Mina leaned all the way back, your cock still engulfed within her folds. She arched her back a little, pushing her tits upwards. You could see the outline of her ribcage but for some reason, that turned you on that much more.

The both of you were now positioned in this desperate and hungry missionary, you began to drive yourself into her, your thrusts quick and forceful. Mina arched her back, her breasts jiggling with each plunge. She gripped your shoulders tightly, her nails digging into your flesh as her moans grew louder with each thrust.

"Aahh, Y/N, I’m... oh, fuck, Y/N, don’t stop..." Mina panted, her voice almost hoarse from all the screaming.

Your brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth. You’ve grown sexually frustrated. It’s like you couldn’t get enough of this woman. You kept thrusting, your hands reaching forward to squeeze the wonderful pair of mounds in front of you.

You could see a slight bulge on her abdomen form each time you thrusted inwards. Her loud yet sultry moans pushed you forward. You squeezed her hips, your hands gripping tightly on their sides.

"Fuck– Mina– I don’t think I can ever get enough of you– Momo was so right to invite you to join us– FUCK–"

Your own breathing grew ragged as you neared your limit yet again. Mina's sweat–soaked skin glistened under the light, her ribs visible beneath her smooth skin.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." she cried out, her words becoming more and more desperate.

Each thrust was now a battle for dominance, both of you vying for control as you forced your bodies to submit to the rhythmic pounding.

"Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don’t stop..." Mina begged, her voice now a mixture of pleading and demanding.

You slammed into her one last time, the sound of your flesh meeting hers echoing in the small room. "That’s it, Mina, squirt for me–" you groaned, your voice hoarse. Mina began to scream out in pure ecstasy and pleasure.

"OH MY GOD– FUCK~ KNOCK ME UP, Y/N– DO IT–!"

Mina's walls convulsed around you, triggering your own orgasm. Together, you both unleashed powerful orgasms. Her cries of ecstasy intermingled with your guttural grunts. Your seed flooded her once more, the heat of your release igniting another wave of pleasure for Mina.

With both of you completely spent, you collapsed onto her, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat dripped from your brows, coating both of your trembling forms.

"God damn, Mina..." you whispered, panting.

Mina smiled, her cheeks flushed from exertion. "I–I’m glad you approve, Y/N."

"Approve? I don’t think I ever wanna be away from you anymore... I guess it’s official, you’ve joined my relationship with Momo."

Both of you stayed entwined, sharing this intimate moment, the room now filled with the scent of sex and the heavy thumping of your heartbeats. After a while, Mina let out a content sigh, her body relaxing beneath you.

A few hours later, you were back at home with your beloved Momo. She could see the look of a man who had just been drained of what is essentially his soul. She playfully called out to you.

"Y/N, baby~ Come and sit with me."

As you waddled over and sat down, she gave you a soft kiss. You reciprocated.

"So, how was it? Looks like you had fun~!"

You nodded.

"Yeah, baby... Uhh, Mina’s gonna join us now... like you and me, us..."

"Mhm! I told her she could, I mean, you didn’t seem to mind when Nayeon was actively touching herself to us..."

"You’re right... I love you so much..."

Momo smiled, knowing she made the right choice, both for herself, for you, and for the both of you combined. Knowing that, you and Momo look forward to whoever else that would be interested in joining your little circle here.

You and Momo shared another sweet and loving kiss as she straddled your lap. Just then, you both heard a knock at the door. You stood up, walked over and opened it. There stood Mina in a white tank top, a tight blue jacket and a short yellow skirt. She presented her phone to you, a message already typed out to who you presumed to be the idol she slept with a while back.

Mina: hey, i dont think we should see each other anymore

Mina: sorry, i found someone better

Your gaze met hers as you brought her in for a passionate kiss. As you did, you brought your finger to the send button and pressed it. As the kiss broke, you brought Mina in to see Momo and the two sat on the couch together and faced you.

"Wait, what’s happening now?"

"You know~"

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[wileys-russo]

a deals a deal II l.williamson

"where'd you find this place?" you smiled in awe as you followed leah into the arcade, the blonde not missing the ways your eyes had lit up the moment the two of you had even parked outside, exactly the reaction she'd hoped for.

it having been your girlfriends turn to organize date night leah reveled in the fact that it was already seeming to be a success before it officially started, and you had to admit the older girl knew you like the back of her hand with this choice.

with both of you working full time, leah as a footballer and you as a primary teacher you both made a commitment early on, the moment things started getting serious, that despite your hectic schedules you'd still make every effort to keep consistent with spending quality time outside of work together.

and so the weekly date nights came into effect.

they weren't always big significant events nor did they always mean the two of you left your shared home, the key takeaway was quality time and so long as the two of you were focused on one another then that was guaranteed.

"lotte put me onto it, tao brought her here on one of their first dates." leah admitted as you gasped sarcastically. "and you're not even taking the credit? oh baby i'm so proud of you!" you cooed mockingly, pinching her cheeks as the taller girl shoved you playfully, the two of you making your way to the counter.

"i'll be taking credit for all the games i'm about to smash you at my girl, don't you worry your pretty little head about that." leah smiled smugly as you rolled your eyes and she hooked you both up with a large bag of tokens, even further fueling your excitement at the fact they still ran their games the old school way, physical tickets printed and all.

"oh my love me and my pretty little head cannot wait to watch you eat your words!" you grinned in response to her call out, and given neither of you liked to lose and were incredibly competitive, it was sure to be an interesting night.

there was a reason the two of you stopped getting invites to game night with leahs family, both of you banned until you learned how to behave like well mannered young women and not hotheaded impatient numpties, in the words of her grandmother.

"well either way you can consider tonight endless tokens, if you can spend them then i will buy them gorgeous." leah promised, pecking your lips sweetly with a charming smile and offering for you to pick the first game.

"mm good question babe. what do i want to beat you at first?" you pondered, stroking your chin as leah sighed dramatically at the time you were taking, tapping her foot and shoving her hands into the pocket of her jacket with a bored look written into her features.

"oh come on!" leah groaned impatiently as you pivoted away from yet another game, amused smirk on your features as you finally stopped and nodded happily.

"basketball. lets start off simple!" you decided, grabbing your girlfriends hand and dragging her over toward the game, the blonde hurrying to yank you back as a gang of young boys sprinted past almost smashing into you, leah looking after them with a deep seeded scowl.

"hey lee, need i remind you this place is actually designed for kids baby, relax." you smiled poking at her cheeks as she huffed air out of her nose but focused her attention back on you, both of you slipping tokens into your sides as the game lit up and a strong american accent yelled out the rules.

"ready...set....go!" leah counted down as the buzzer sounded, both of you scrambling to grab the balls, zoned in on your own rings as the points started to rack up for both of you.

leah snuck a quick glance to your side, bright eyes widening in shock seeing you were in the lead and by quite a significant amount. and just as you said neither of you liked to lose, which is what lead to her next move.

"oi!" you gasped as the defender leaned over and knocked the ball out of your hand, shooting with her other, doing it again and again as you reached for the basketballs.

"leah!" you laughed at her blunt competitiveness, shoving her as the final buzzer for the game sounded and the blonde cheered victoriously, pumping her fist and doing a victory wiggle having just beat you by two points.

"you are such a cheat and a shit loser." you shook your head as leah continued her victory dance, snatching her tickets from the machine and shoving them into her pocket.

"nah i'm not, cause i didn't lose." she booped you on the nose with a token as you smacked her shoulder. "right well if you want to carry on like that. would you care to make this interesting then williamson?" you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest.

"mm perhaps, what do you have in mind for a wager pretty girl?" leah raised an eyebrow curiously, cocky smirk still curled into her features.

"if i win, you do all the dishes and the laundry for a month." you stated, leahs jaw dropping and your smile widening knowing she detested the two tasks and would often offer you anything in return for not having to do them.

"a month!? nah two weeks mate max." "aw, are you that scared you'll lose baby?" "i am not! fine, a month then."

"but if i win... then you have to do that thing i've been asking you to since christmas, with my special gift." leah cocked her head to the side, storm blue eyes roaming over your body hungrily as you frowned a little in confusion before it clicked just exactly what she was after.

both half jokingly and half seriously the blonde had gifted you a very ill fitting maids costume for christmas, stating as part of your gift to her you should spend the day wearing it, claiming it would be great motivation for her to join you in doing the housework.

you only laughed and put it away, teasing that not even that would get her to pick up a dirty dish.

but every now and then leah would find it in the back of the wardrobe and the begging would start for you to live out what was clearly a fantasy for the taller girl, and each time you'd just teasingly shake your head in amusement and depart the room with a kiss, leaving her without a real answer.

"fine, a deal's a deal." you shrugged in agreement which was clearly to your girlfriends surprise as her eyebrows shot up in shock and you extended your hand, wiggling your fingers eagerly.

"brilliant. a deals a deal." the blonde echoed as she shook your hand but not before using it to pull your body into hers, stealing a kiss and nipping at your bottom lip, pulling away with a cheeky grin as your head spun and your cheeks flushed pink.

"right, my turn to pick then. and unlike some i won't take an hour to decide!"

~

"how in the hell do you even do this? its got no bloody control!" leah huffed, the two of you sat on motorbikes as you raced around the track on the screens in front of you, the girl beside you far from getting the hang of it despite it being the second time you'd raced, leah demanding a rematch after crashing her bike and earning a loss.

"like this, winner!" you cheered loudly, pumping your fists in the air as you zoomed across the finish line sitting back smugly as leahs eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown and she smacked at the handle bars in annoyance.

"loser." you pointed to her now with a wink as she flipped you off, rings glinting in the bright neon lights above.

"maybe i should get a motorbike." you teased, turning your body as leah jumped off the bike, appearing instantly in between your legs as you stayed sitting side sadle. "over my dead body, maybe focus on learning how to drive a car first babe." leah teased making you roll your eyes, her hands settling on your thighs and squeezing them with a grin.

"i'm a great driver thank you very much." "mmm but those handful of fines in your glovebox say differently baby girl." "those are parking fines leah, not driving offences." "oh i'm so sorry. correction then not only are you a shit driver but you're an appalling parker as well, can't even be trusted when the car is stationary!" leah tutted with a dissapointed shake of her head as you punched her in the shoulder and scoffed.

"sorry let me just get a score check, whose winning?" you asked, cupping a hand over your ear and leaning toward leah whose smile dropped.

"shut up." she mumbled with a small pout as you slid off the motorbike, the two of you wandering around for a moment as leah took her time choosing.

"perfect!" the taller girl grinned spotting a football shootout game in the back corner. "and how many goals do defenders normally score?" you hummed, pretending to be lost in thought as leah slotted in some tokens and rolled her eyes.

"don't be bitter that they don't have a teaching game babe, times tables aren't exactly something kids do in their time off for fun!" leah pouted sarcastically at your chosen career, you now the one to flip her off and gesture for her to start.

"right go on then superstar, dazzle me."

you had to hide your smile behind your hand as leah missed more kicks than she scored, the game clearly designed for a child with much less leg power as every ball sailed up and over the goal.

you watched as her shots became sloppier the more wound up and angry she got, only fueling her to continue to miss time and time again. "nah this is bullshit that's rigged!" leah scowled, kicking at the machine once her turn was over and grumbling under her breath.

"leah!" you scolded, moving her away from causing actual damage as she wound up for another kick.

"hey. breathe for me please, it's just a stupid arcade game, you're still a champion of europe baby. nothing takes that away!" you grabbed at her face, placing a soft kiss to her lips and feeling her body relax somewhat.

"...its just a good thing they didn't need you for any penalties because those attempts? massive yikes." "oi thats a red card for you my girl, absolutely uncalled for!"

~

"right, this ones the final game." leah glanced at the time and announced with a clap, the two of you so caught up you'd not even realized the time and how long you'd been here.

"oh how convenient, we're tied." you rolled your eyes, not believing that the 'score card' leah had been in charge of was really all that accurate, having been typed up in notes on her phone.

"and what is that supposed to mean?" "i'm accusing you of score tampering, williamson." "no idea what on earth you're on about love, i'll even be so kind as to forfeit my turn so that you choose our last game." "wow, and they say chivalry is dead?"

"mmm that one." you nodded to a shooting game in the corner you'd not yet tried, leah humming in agreement as you made your way over. "was that your stomach?" you asked in disbelief hearing a loud gurgle.

"yes! i'm fucking starving." leah moped with a huff, earning herself an unimpressed look from a mother standing at the next game with her two young kids, you smacking leah lightly and mumbling about her language.

"sorry miss." your girlfriend teased with a cocky smile as you rolled your eyes and gestured for her to take her turn. the gunner shot down 8 tin ducks out of 12 and shrugged, seemingly happy with her efforts.

"beat that, four eyes." leah smirked, flicking at your ear as you smacked away her hands and shot her a dirty look.

you only wore your glasses when you were using your laptop, reading or occasionally when teaching, and as much as leah found you utterly adorable in them the english captain also would never miss an opportunity to rib you about your poor eyesight.

"happily, noodle legs." you quipped back with a smile, grabbing the gun as leah mocked you under her breath and ordered for you to hurry up as her stomach rumbled again.

closing one eye you balanced the toy gun on your arm as the game commenced, shooting down six ducks with ease, a few more to go and you'd win still with plenty of time left to do so.

however as you placed your finger on the trigger, the timer counting down from ten, a set of hands wrapped themselves around your waist, one hand in particular slipping up the inside of your top and harshly squeezing at one of your boobs.

in shock at the unexpected touch you squeezed the trigger and dropped the toy gun, missing the ducks by a mile as the timer went off and leah's hands suddenly disappeared, your skin burning where they'd once been.

"oh that is so not fair! you. are. a. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. little cheat." you protested with a growl, turning on your heel to glare towards a smug looking leah, poking at her chest angrily with each word.

"i simply do not know what you're talking about gorgeous, i guess your aim was just off. and that is not my fault!" the blonde simply smiled cockily, knowing she'd now won.

though sensing your rapidly growing annoyance leah reached for your hand, pulling your body into hers and stepping the two of you in between two pinball machines, briefly tucked away from sight.

"leah catherine williamson you are an unbearably bad loser, a big child, bad mannered, short tempered and-" not even giving you the time to finish your sentence the taller girl cut you off by bringing your lips together, pressing your body against the arcade wall.

leahs hands settled themselves on your hips tucked away under her jacket you'd stolen from her earlier in the night, the defender slowly swiping her tongue against your bottom lip, taking control of the kiss as your arms wrapped around the back of her neck, tangling themselves in her recently chopped short blonde locks.

though before the two of you got any further carried away someone winning a game meant a loud siren went off behind you, the two of you jumping away from one another in shock at the abrupt noise of the machines, sharing a look before breaking out into soft laughter.

"come on hangry, lets go get you some food then." you smiled with a sigh as leahs stomach rumbled yet again, previous annoyance melting away as it always did when it came to the mischievous footballer you were head over heels for.

"no i think we should head home, i'm hungry for something else now." leah murmered quietly, thumb stroking your jaw, lips curling into a smug smile at how your cheeks flushed scarlet at her suggestive tone.

"plus i think you're due for a little outfit change baby girl. a deal's a deal and you're nothing short of a woman of your word, right?"

[dreamescapeswriting]

A Place To belong ~ BC

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.3K

⤜PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: Comfort fic, chan being the overly cute comforting man that he is, trigger warning: mentions death of a loved one

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The sun was beating down on the back of your neck as you sat outside in the back garden of Chan's family home. It was hot, and not a normal kind of Australia hot, but abnormally skin-burning hot. You could have sworn you'd applied more layers of sun cream in one day than you had ever in your life. But you were powering through this for Chan.

It was the first time he'd been home in almost six months and he'd decided that he wanted to bring you with him. You'd met his family before, almost always over the phone but there had been a couple of trips where you'd joined Chan home and you loved this for him.

But you couldn't deny the fact that watching them interact together made your throat tighten and tears rush to your eyes. It had only been a few months since your mother's passing and you couldn't help but feel torn up whenever you saw a mother with their child. It was something that choked you up every time and often left you wondering when it was ever going to stop if it ever did. 

"I can't believe I finally have you home," Chan's mum beamed as you once again wrapped her arms around Chan, squeezing him as he rocked him side to side. Almost scared he'd disappear if she let him go for too long. Your throat tightened as you watched Chan's cheeks flame bright red as he let out a small groan, pretending to be annoyed with it.

"Yn," She whines, finally letting go of Chan and turning her sights on you. You slowly raised from the seat you'd been sat on and she instantly wrapped you in her arms in a tight embrace. One hand on the back of your head and the other around your back as she pressed you softly against her, swaying slightly. 

"Thanks for letting me come and stay, Mrs Bang." Your voice came out shakey, this was the first time in months you'd ever had a hug like this and you felt yourself tearing up. 

"I told you, you can call me mum," She whispered, rubbing your back softly as Chan watched you closely. His mother knew about everything and she'd insisted you come along to the family gathering so she could comfort you in any way that she could.

"We have everything here, okay? I have all of your favourites and we even made sure to get your favourite drink because I knew you'd want it," She continued to speak as you watched her in complete awe. No one had ever gone to so much effort for you before, besides Chan and your own mother of course and the thought of it made your stomach flutter.

"I'm so sorry about your mother, Yn," She whispered, her voice filled with genuine empathy as she talked quietly enough just for you to hear. 

"I can't imagine what you're going through. But please know, you'll always have a place with us. You're family now." She tells you as she runs her hand up and down your back. You blinked back tears, nodding against her shoulder as you sniffled a little. 

"Thank you," You managed to say, your voice choked with emotion as you did your best not to break down and cry in front of them all but Chan had already spotted you. 

"That means a lot to me." You finished and Jessica pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands, running her thumb under your eyes to remove the tears that had escaped. 

"You're a strong, wonderful girl, Yn. We're here for you, always. All of us," She whispered as you felt a wave of relief wash over you, acceptance and love from his family overwhelming you a little. Jessica smiled before walking back to Chan's dad, engulfing him in a hug as Chan came to stand by your side, kissing the top of your head softly.

"See? I told you they love you," Chan said sweetly, you nodded, your throat choked up from tears that were left unshed.

"Dig in, everyone!" She called out, giving you a final hug before going to find a seat at the picnic table in their garden. 

Food was spread out along the table and everyone had fallen into their own conversations as you watched everyone interact with one another. Your eyes wandered over to Chan and his mum as they laughed and teased one another. The sign of affection and the bond the two of them shared made your chest tighten with grief as you felt the overwhelming sense of absence wash over you.

"I'll be right back," You whispered to Chan, your voice wavering slightly as you headed toward the house, Chan watched you closely for a second but kept listening to his mother. 

As soon as you got inside you found the bathroom and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you took in a deep and shuddering breath. Everything you'd been holding in all day finally came crashing down on you like a ton of bricks, you sank to the floor, burying your face in your knees as the tears flowed freely. 

The pain of everything mingled with the overwhelming kindness you'd been getting from Chan's mum, everything felt like too much as you whimpered a little. You didn't think this would happen today, you thought everything was finally getting easier to manage.

The only thing interrupting your tears was a small knock on the bathroom door as it was slowly pushed open. Chan knew as soon as you'd gotten up from the table that something was wrong but he gave you a few minutes before coming to check on you.

"Sorry, I-I was coming back-" Chan didn't let you finish before he held you in his arms. Your eyes were red and puffy and he just wanted to hug you until you could calm yourself down again, he'd stay in this bathroom all week long if that was going to help.

"I'm sorry," You sobbed against his chest, fresh tears replacing the old ones as you cried against him, your knees feeling weak but he kept his arms around you. Keeping you in a tight comforting cocoon of his arms.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," He comforted, running his hand up and down your back as you calmed yourself down, laying your head on his chest as you let out a small sigh. 

"How are you feeling?" He whispers, it probably seemed like a dumb question given the circumstances but Chan wasn't going to let you go down there again until he knew you were ready and willing to go back down and face everyone again. 

"Calmer, I'm sorry I just sort of broke down." You sniffled as Chan took some tissues and wiped your face gently, 

"Don't be, I didn't think when I bought you here, I just wanted you to feel welcome," He hated that it had seemed like such a good idea in theory, his heart racing.

"We can go if you need if it's too much-" You placed your hand on his cheek and softly ran your thumb over his cheek.

"I do and I love it here, I just had a bit of a moment. It won't happen again." You promise him but he shakes his head, his hand placing over yours on his cheek as he smiles down at you,

"Don't be silly, you're allowed to have your moments, you're allowed to feel like this, Yn. Don't ever feel like you can't." He whispered as you relaxed a little, letting out a small sigh before smiling up at him, ready to go back down there and eat all of the food that you could manage. 

"I'm hungry," You giggle, as he pulls you into one last embrace, promising you that you weren't alone in any of this, heading back down to his family as his mum gestured for you to it beside her this time.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie

[junkdrawerfics]

Simple Moment

I love Jasper Hale more than most things in my life.

Summary: Just a cute, fluffy moment with Jasper and his human, the reader. Mostly Bella and Alice talking about the two of you.

Word Count: 702

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

“So that’s Jasper’s girlfriend?” Bella asks Alice as they watch a familiar looking girl stride up to said vampire. She waggles her hand in front of the blond’s face, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he was stuck in. A small smile slips onto Bella’s lips as she watches him grin and murmur some greeting.

“Yep, that’s (Y/n),” Alice replies, smiling along fondly, “We met her just a year ago. She’s Jasper’s singer, like you’re Edward’s.”

Bella’s brows shoot up at this, “She’s human?” She knew that Jasper didn’t have complete control of his instincts yet, so the fact that he could be around someone whose blood is so tempting to him seems implausible. Yet there you are, pressing into his side with an adoring smile.

“Crazy huh?” Alice giggles at the gobsmacked look on her friend’s face, “Trust me, it wasn’t pretty at first. Jasper had to stay home for weeks because he couldn’t control himself at school.”

A question hangs on the tip of her tongue, but Bella keeps it to herself. It’s none of her business how they eventually came together, she imagines it might have been something similar to her and Edward’s story. Her curious eyes dart over to Jasper and the girl again. They’re settled down on the roots of a nearby tree, talking and smiling at each other. The softness of the moment strikes her. Had she ever seen the vampire look so carefree? Especially around a human?

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” The ravenette murmurs with a far away look, “She’ll be like us one day too, I’ve seen it, and they look so happy. She’s the one that helps him learn control. He’s even the one who changes her, I think. That part was still a little unclear.”

Bella looks at her with a smile, “It’s so cool that you’ve seen all of that.”

Alice shrugs but her smile betrays the pride she feels for her gift, “It has come to me over the months, not all together, you know. I’m just so happy he has someone now.”

Both look over at the couple again, fondness and genuine joy rolling off of them.

Jasper smiles slightly, eyes darting over to the pair.

“What is it?” You ask, glancing around the blonde to see his sister and the new girl staring at the two of you. A dark blush is quick to cover your face, which you hide in his shoulder.

Jasper chuckles lightly, pressing an adoring kiss to the crown of your head, “No worries, darlin’, they’re happy you’re here.”

You peak up at him with a small, teasing grin, “Really? And how do you feel, huh?”

The blonde raises an eyebrow at you, one of his oh so charming smirks pulling at the corner of his lips, “Why, it’s a pleasure to have you by my side, ma’am.”

Your teasing smile melts into a sigh and you bury your face back into his shoulder. Just his voice alone sets free a flock of butterflies in your chest. You’re probably as red as a tomato again.

“Don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel old,” you grumble to try and hide just how flustered his words made you feel.

“My apologies,” you can hear the grin in his voice, “...ma’am.”

You punch him in the side, knowing all too well that it won’t actually hurt him, but at least the intention is there. Jasper just chuckles again and pulls away to look at your bright face.

“I’m just teasin’ darlin’,” he hums, “You get riled up so easy.”

“You’re so mean.” You pout, scrunching your nose up at him.

The vampire only grins and leans close to press his cold lips against your forehead. Eyes fluttering closed, you take a moment to just savor the feeling. You never want it to go away. You never want him to go away.

“I love you, Jasper,” you mumble as you tuck back into his side.

He pulls you close, enveloped in your scent but so stricken with the genuine emotions rolling off you that it doesn’t even seem to bother him.

“I love you too, darlin’.” The words are soft, spoken so only you will hear him.

[barcaatthemoon]

time || keira walsh x reader ||

eventually, time heals all.

"how are you holding up?" georgia asked as she slid into the seat next to keira. there was a look of concern on georgia's face, one that worried keira to no end. georgia was a good friend, but keira hadn't seen her look like that since their first camp back after keira had broken up with lucy.

"fine, why would i be any different?" keira questioned. georgia clammed up a bit, realizing that she had just shattered keira's little bubble of blissful ignorance. "come on g, you can't just act weird and try to brush it off."

"she who shall not be named has accepted sarina's camp offer," georgia said. keira's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to think of who georgia was talking about. keira didn't get to it fast enough, and so the shock was evident on her face when you came strolling into the hotel.

"there she is! get over here, it's been too long!" millie bright shouted as she raced over towards you. the bigger woman knocked into you, but caught you before you could fall over. almost immediately, rachel was at your other side, echoing millie's sentiments.

you had been beyond nervous to accept sarina's call to come up to camp. there had once been a time whenever you had loved playing for your country, and then world war 3 happened. you remembered how tense things had been because of the fallout from you and keira's friendship. the team had truly been divided, and everybody's playing was affected by it. so, you decided to be the bigger person and seemingly quit the team.

"hey, i need to breathe," you groaned. millie and rachel let go of you, but you could tell that they'd be clingy all camp. they walked you through the lobby, millie expertly blocking keira from your view as she did so. "so, who am i rooming with cap?"

"um…" leah trailed off as she looked at the paper. the only free room was with georgia, and leah had no idea how georgia felt about you anymore. she just knew that she couldn't room you with keira. "stanway."

"oh, okay," you said as you took the room key from her. "thanks."

"you're welcome." leah tried to hide her surprise at how okay you were with the room situation. if there had been one person who had been nastier to you than keira, it was georgia. stanway was incredibly protective over keira, and even though she didn't have all the facts, she knew that keira was hurting because of you.

"seriously, you roomed her with g?" rachel hissed as she glared at leah.

"are you mad woman?" millie asked. the three of them watched as you got into the elevator and went up to your room. you knew not to expect georgia there for some time, she had always hung around leah and keira's room more than her own. you expected this camp not to be any different, especially once she found out that you were her roommate.

…

"you're a real fucking sorry sight, you know that?" lucy teased as she sat next to you in the gym. everybody else had paired up with their roommates, but you were all alone. georgia had stuck to keira and leah's sides, and you weren't going anywhere near keira.

"i'm sure that if i asked stanway to spot me, she'd drop the weight on my neck," you reasoned. lucy frowned at the comment. she had always liked you, having been the first to take you under her wing in the few england camps you had attended.

"she probably couldn't hold it. i mean, look at the size of you, giving bright a run for her money." you blushed at the compliment. you had been working out a lot more, but it had also been several years since most of these women had seen you last. that was a lot of time for you to change and better yourself, but not enough to get over that lovesick feeling you got whenever you looked at keira.

you didn't think that you'd ever get over that. she had been your best friend, and then something a little more before everything went to hell. a part of you wanted to be mad at lucy, who had struck up a conversation and friendship with you to steal away the woman you loved. you could still remember the way it felt to walk into your hotel room seeking out comfort from keira only to find her pinned beneath lucy's body.

"you okay?" lucy asked as she noticed you go a bit pale. she reached out towards you, but you were quick to push her away from you.

"get away from me!" you were overcome with emotion. you hated the way that everything seemed to get dragged up and out of you with ease. everybody was staring at you, so you ran. lucy could feel the eyes on her, but one look from rachel and millie told her to stay put.

"i swear that i didn't say anything," lucy said as the two approached her. "i told her that she looked good, she got quiet, and when i went to check on her, she did that."

"she's just a drama queen," georgia said quietly. leah slapped her chest, but it was millie running up to her that really got georgia's attention.

"you don't even know what happened because if you did, you wouldn't be acting like this towards her. she was one of your best friends, or did you forget that?"

"stop it, all of you!" keira shouted. nobody had expected the outburst from her. "all of you stay here. i'll handle this."

"i do-," rachel tried, only to be cut off by keira. she stormed out of the gym, surprised to find you sitting only a few feet away on a little ledge.

"can i sit next to you?" keira asked. you scooted over to the far edge of the bench to make room for her. "i've missed you a lot."

"you've been fine. lucy's always around in barcelona, isn't she?"

"we're… friends now, nothing more, nothing less. lucy's girlfriend, ona, she's really nice. i think you'd like her. there's always room for another good defender on the team if you're interested in a change of scenery," keira suggested.

"move to another country where i can't speak the language and i'm stuck with you and lucy, sounds like hell," you said honestly.

"i don't know what you want from me. i can't say sorry anymore," keira told you. there wasn't anything for her to do, you just couldn't be around her. "i didn't mean to hurt you like that, things just sort of happened that night."

"it was an accident, well that fixes everything!" you exclaimed sarcastically.

"if you're going to be an ass, i won't even bother," keira said. she hadn't meant to get so frustrated with you, but it obviously wasn't the right choice. you shot up from the bench and stormed off, leaving keira to go back inside and let them know you had really left this time.

…

"rach, i am not spending my last season wearing those ugly ass kits," you teased.

"but can you at least spend your last season in your home country?" rachel asked you. you sighed and nodded. "okay, what are your other options then?"

"the spurs are offering a lot. city is willing to talk, but they can't guarantee that they'll need me that badly," you said. rachel's face lit up at the thought of you retiring at manchester city. it had been your first club, and you had always talked about retiring there.

"you have to go back to city," rachel said. you had expected her to fight you a little more, but you were glad that she wanted this for you. rachel spent a bit more time with you before leaving to let you call your agent, who was glad that you had made your choice.

things were finalized quickly, and by the end of the month, manchester city had made the announcement. you had expected them to make a big deal about your homecoming, but not for them to mention that it was your last season. you were young, still in your prime, but playing soccer had felt more and more like a chore. things weren't the same after your conversation with keira.

the messages came flooding in at the announcement of your retirement. leah was the first of your old friend group to reach out to you, definitely hurt that you didn't tell her before, but still understanding. she was closest, so it was easiest to make amends with her first. she had even come to a couple of your games that weren't on the same days as hers.

georgia and lucy had both flown in to see you at the same game. it had been overwhelming at first, but when georgia threw herself at your feet apologizing and crying, you had to forgive her. lucy didn't grovel as dramatically, but she had been much more of a sap than you had ever seen. slowly, over the course of the season, you began to repair the relationships that had gone to shit, all except for one of them.

tears had been clouding your vision all day. you wanted to go back on your retirement, but there were big things awaiting you. you'd finish this game, take a couple of days to mope around, and then you'd start your journey towards coaching. it was exciting, even if you had no idea where you'd go after that.

"it's insane," rachel said as she put her arm around your shoulders. the two of you were standing out on the pitch together looking out at the crowd. "i've never seen so many people wearing your number before."

"i've never seen so many people in my section," you countered. the stadium was completely packed, every single seat full. rachel smiled as she pressed a kiss to your cheek. you wanted to start crying, but you held it together.

"i hate losing, but i want you to walk away with a win tonight," rachel told you. you nodded, also wanting that for yourself. the two of you went your separate ways for warm ups. you got the captain's band for the game, something that hadn't really happened before. it had always been your dream to captain manchester city, and your teammates wanted that to happen for you.

the game itself was a lot, but you loved the pacing of it. you got in quite a few good blocks and tackles. if anything, you proved just how much you had left in you in the first half. the game remained a draw, both teams coming so close to scoring only to be stopped. it was late whenever the first goal was scored, a goal coming from a ball that you had cleared away to chloe. she ran it all the way to the goal, getting both a goal for herself and an assist for you.

you were almost certain that was going to be the only goal of the game, but you were happily proven wrong. you had found a nice little position during a corner, and the ball was driven directly to you. it was cheeky, but you went in for a pele kick. you hit the ground with a heavy thud, only for your teammates to come over and dog pile on top of you. you had all reset for another kick off when the final whistle blew.

"come here," alex said as you collapsed onto the pitch next to her. players from both teams came over to congratulate you on your final game. you kept it together for a fair amount of time until you saw some of your england teammates approach. millie scooped you into a hug, crushing your body just a little as she did so.

"you don't have to, but there's someone who wants to talk to you in the tunnel," millie told you. you steadied yourself with a deep breath and walked into the tunnel, unsurprised to find keira standing there nervously.

"i didn't know you came," you said as you stood next to keira.

"of course i came to see your last game. i told you i would when you signed." you didn't expect keira to remember the promise she had made at the beginning of your career. "what are you going to do now?"

"look into coaching. after that, i have no idea, but i promised rachel i'd stay with her during the offseasn," you said. keira's face fell at that, like she had been afraid of hearing that. "you're gonna be pretty busy with the champion's league."

"i'm really happy for you and rachel," keira said. you paused for a moment. it was very obvious that keira was just saying that. her tone was clipped and she still looked hurt. "i should have seen it coming though, really. i mean, you guys did play together in america."

"yeah, we did, but that doesn't mean anything. she was dating kristie then, besides, rach is not my type. she fancies herself a bit too much of a top for me. i like things a little more equal," you joked. keira blushed, forcing herself to look away from you. "so, are you meeting someone here or did you dress up just for me?"

"so, you and rachel aren't…" keira trailed off. you shook your head, laughing a bit as you did. "then, can i take you to dinner?"

"keira, we tried this already. i got my heart broken, remember?" you sighed.

"no, we didn't try this, not really. there were never any dates or effort for something more than makeout sessions in the hotel. this time, i want dates and effort. please, (y/n), i want to do this right. i want us to be together," keira said. you bit your lip as you contemplated it.

"it can't end in another lucy situation," you told her.

keira looked at you dead serious and promised, "no lucy situation. i'll fly up here to visit you on every break, and when i can't, i'll fly you to barcelona to come and see me. i'll call you every single day because the hardest part of all of us has been not hearing your voice. i just want you, (y/n), if you'll let me."

"i am so fucking scared right now, but that's what makes it exciting right?" you chuckled. keira nodded as she cupped your cheeks. you knew that you had to be one to make the next move, so you leaned in and captured her lips in a soft kiss. you pinned keira against the wall, pushing your body against hers as the kiss deepened.

"as nice as this is, you're very sweaty," keira pointed out. you gave her one more peck on the lips before you left to take a shower. you were quick to change and get out of the locker room, knowing damn well that someone was bound to drag you back in there whenever you came to check in on your favorite team.

"you waited up for me, that's sweet," you said as you grabbed keira's hand. keira turned and pressed a kiss to your cheek, which didn't go unnoticed by the teammates she was talking to.

"come on, let's get you in something nice. i believe i heard alex and chloe mention a dinner in your honor," keira said. you grumbled and huffed as you left with her. you knew that they meant well, but they all knew how much you hated fancy dinners and being the center of attention. however, when you arrived at the restaurant in the suit that keira insisted that you wear, you felt a little ridiculous.

"you're an ass," you said as you nudged keira in the side.

"it's was rachel's idea," keira told you. you rolled your eyes as you entered the fast food restaurant. "i think you look hot, if it helps."

"maybe a little." you knew that you were being cheeky, but you also remembered that keira had secretly loved it.

[imshii-kin]

Good Luck

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Summary : Y/n, who recently taken an interest in the DC universe, finds themself in that very universe after a little roadkill accident.

Prologue, Chapter # 1 (you are here), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Never feel guilty for starting again. - Rupi Kaur

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours since Y/n had awoken, she felt like she was in shock. She could remember walking back to her dorm from the public library. She had picked a random comic from the comic section, deciding to venture from her usual picks.

She could remember the bright headlights barreling towards her, the pain, her breath slowly slipping from her...

Y/n doesn't know is she can look at a truck the same way again.

"What do you think could've caused this Lois? She was completely fine yesterday." A man with inky black hair and deep blue eyes paced around the kitchen, his brows furrowed in frustration.

The woman next to him, Louis, placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort her husband. "I don't know Clark, it's strange."

Y/n sucks in a breath, she was in the DC universe.

──●◎●──

'...I didn't even get to finish playing through Fnaf.' Y/n thought as she watched her 'parents' talk. Sighing, Y/n recounted her situation, she could remember her past life perfectly, but she drew a blank when she tried to remember anything from this life.

In all honesty Y/n was on the verge of a panic attack, still coming to grips with the fact she died. Not only that, but out of all the universes to be reincarnated in, Y/n was reborn into one of the most dangerous universes out there. Why couldn't she just be reincarnated in a chick flick?

Louis had her arm around Y/n, holding her close and trying to comfort her. She was saying something to Y/n, though nothing really registered.

Justifiably, Y/n didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Clark sat down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his hands. "Y/n, can you tell us what could have happened? Anything at all?" Y/n shakes her head no. She chose not to mention her past life, something in her gut told her to keep it to herself.

Clark sighed disappointedly, "I guess I'll have to call Bruce." He seemed grimace when he mentioned Bruce's name.

That's never a good sign.

──●◎●──

"What do you mean 'No' Bruce!?" Clark yelled at the billionaire, who was trying to calm down and reason with the hero.

"Clark, I just think you're going a little overboard, let me take her back to Gotham. I can use my computers and resources that are stored in the bat cave to figure out what's wrong." Bruce explained. "We don't need to summon the Justice League for this." Bruce's brow furrowed at the stubbornness of the alien.

Off to the side Y/n watched the interaction with morbid curiosity. Though you agreed that calling up the Justice League was a bit... over the top. It was still strange how Bruce seems reluctant to interact with the Justice League in general.

Wonder why that is.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. "Why would I let my daughter go to Gotham, for all I know, this is some excuse to experiment on her kryptonian side. Find out more weaknesses," he all but snarled, "or get her killed, just like Jason!"

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't trust her with you, not after..." He shakes his head, turning away from Bruce.

Louis had left your side to talk with Clark, allowing Jon to take her place.

There's some silence, before Jon decides to speak. "...I think you should go." He says. Y/n tilts her head towards him, brow raised. "I gave a friend there, Damien." Jon begins, "he's told me all about Bruce, I think they can help you."

Jon blushes a bit, "Plus, Damien is the most trustworthy guy I know, if you ever need help, he'll be there."

Footsteps approach you both from behind, turning to look, you both see an irritated Clark approaching you. "Well, she doesn't have a choice. She isn't going." He huffed.

"..."

"Clark, do you want her to get the best treatment or not?" Surprisingly, Lois spoke up this time. Sighing, she took Clark's hand.

"Bruce won't betray our trust, plus she'll be in one of the most protected places in Gotham, getting the best treatment she could ever get. I think we should let Bruce take her until we figure out what, or... who caused this."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Bruce sit in silence.

──●◎●──

Chapter 2

[saetoru]

tee tee tee i wanna share rich boy gojo thoughts that have been on my mind. imagine him pouting in the corner as you gossip and laugh with his mom in the living room while she shows you his baby pictures!!! i feel like he would be the cutest (and more embarrassing) child ever lollll it would be a good opportunity to tease him a bit

[ BABY ] GOJO SATORU.

satoru is pouting—which, truthfully, you don’t think there are all that many moments where he’s not pouting—but he seems to be pouting a little extra right now. maybe you should feel bad, and maybe you should feel a little guilty that he’s sulking because of you…but then his mother flips the page of the baby album in her hands, and you suddenly don’t care as much about your petulant boyfriend anymore. 

“this is satoru after he scraped his knee for the first time,” she giggles, pointing to tiny, red and teary-faced satoru staring up at the camera, making you snort as you lean closer for a better look. 

“he looks ridiculous,” you laugh, and distantly, you can hear satoru gasp at the comment, crossing his arms and sending you a glare from across the living room. 

“i was in pain,” he huffs, “extremely excruciating pain! and my mother stopped to photograph my misfortune. who does that?”

to his dismay, you don’t even spare him a glance, pointing to the next picture of the album and giggling away with his mother, whispering what he’s sure is yet another mean and rude comment making fun of him. what kid doesn’t fall and scrape their knee? and what kid doesn’t cry when they fall and scrape their knee? normal children shed tears in the face of extreme pain, and gojo satoru is not an exception to this fact—in fact, he likes to think he was one of the braver children.

“satoru, you were such a crybaby growing up,” his mother shakes her head, amusement lacing her tone as you chuckle and shoot him a sly grin. 

“so nothing’s changed,” you hum, “he’s still a crybaby now too.”

“am not!” he gasps, “take that back, you liar—”

“—and this is satoru on his first day of school,” his mother hums, cutting him off and pointing to a picture of a young satoru waving at the camera, missing what you’re sure is his entire front row of teeth. you grin, letting out a small chuckle as your eyes soften at the image. 

usually, gojo satoru is a handful. he’s loud and annoying and he talks far too much for his own good. he makes your life increasingly difficult with the stubbornness he wears like a second skin, and he makes you want to crawl into a hole half the time you’re in public for all the scenes he seems to always cause. but sometimes…sometimes gojo satoru is also very cute—like in this photo for example, with chubby cheeks and a bright grin on his face as he stands in his school uniform. 

“aw,” you coo, making him perk up a little at the sound, “how cute.”

“i was a cute kid, wasn’t i?” he grins, and almost as though he was never pouting in the first place, his mood switches at the slightest bit of praise. you roll your eyes, giving him a flat look as you eye him while he walks over to you, flopping onto the space beside you and looking voer your shoulder. 

“you were,” you nod, making a point to eye him up and down and raise a brow, “i wonder what happened.”

he gasps, and the pout from earlier returns once more—and you can’t say you’re surprised. “rude! i’m still super cute,” he grumbles, and because he’s gojo satoru, the most annoying man you’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering on the face of the planet, he pokes your shoulder repeatedly. “admit it, you find me cute,” he whines, “you literally called me cute this morning.”

“that’s cause you were sleeping,” you shrug, “you’re really cute when you shut up.”

“yes, my favorite satoru was always a napping satoru growing up,” his mother adds from the side. 

“wha—mom!” he protests, watching as you and his mother snicker together. satoru wonders how the both of you can claim to love him when you treat him like this—wounding his pride with every insult thrown his way. he crosses his arms, angling his body away from you as you giggle and wrap yourself around him. 

“we’re just kidding, toru,” you grin, reaching to pinch his cheek, chuckling when he swats your hand away with a grunt, “you’re really the cutest. promise!”

“you’re a liar,” he mumbles, shooting you a glare as you fight back an amused smile, “you said you loved me, but clearly you lied to me.”

“i do love you,” you insist, “and i love your baby pictures too.”

usually, satoru feels his heart soften when he watches you and his mother get along—he thinks he falls in love with you just a little harder every time he watches your eyes light up when you see the women who raised him. but sometimes (like right now), he wishes he never introduced you to his mother—he’s not so sure he’s your favorite gojo anymore, and the idea wounds his pride more than a little. he’s also almost certain you prefer spending time with his mother over him, and he’s even more certain his mother wishes you were the one she raised instead. he almost feels like the third wheel half the time he brings you over and his mother’s home—and he can’t help but wonder…who do you even love more, him or his mother? 

he thinks he has his answer though when you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his jaw. no matter how often you two giggle at his expense, you do not kiss his mother on the jaw, and satoru can’t help but shoot a smirk her way as she rolls her eyes and stands.  

“there are more i have to dig up sometime,” mrs. gojo hums, making satoru groan as you nod eagerly, “i’ll leave you two alone for a while.”

“i’m starting to think you come over for my mom instead of me,” satoru huffs as his mother leaves the room, making you roll your eyes as you lean into his side. he wraps an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body, relaxing as your hand finds his chest and rubs slow circles. 

“only you would be jealous of your own mother,” you snort.

“i’m not jealous,” he protests, “i’m simply concerned that you ignore your boyfriend for hours to make fun of him with his mother.” 

if there’s one thing you’ve learned after flipping through page after page of crying baby pictures, it’s that gojo satoru has been dramatic since the day he was born—this fact doesn’t change even in his adult years. but if there’s one other thing you’ve learned—it’s that he’s endearing, just a little too cute for his own good, just a little too dangerously charming whether it’s the camera he’s pouting at or you. you can’t help but shuffle closer, hugging him tightly as you smile softly into his shirt. 

“c’mon,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his chest, “you know you’re my favorite. i do wish i had a baby satoru to cuddle, though.”

“you have me,” he glares, “i’m satoru and i’m your baby and you can cuddle me.”

“it’s not the same,” you tease, “you talk too much.”

“i’ll have you know i got in trouble quite a lot as a child for talking too much. adult satoru is a lot better.” somehow, you’re not surprised—and a small part of you is almost grateful you didn’t know satoru in his young, obnoxious days as a child. an even bigger part of you feels bad for his mother and the strength she must’ve needed to raise the handful of a boyfriend in your arms. “and besides,” he smirks, leaning down to pull you into a brief kiss, “if you want a baby gojo, i can easily give you one—”

“satoru,” you hiss, swatting his shoulder and making him pout as he rubs over the spot you’ve hit, “one of you is more than enough. we don’t need another.”

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 1

Hey, guys! Sorry I'm late uploading today, but I went to bed early last night and forgot to schedule this.

Oops!

But! Welcome to what I've been calling Steve is a History Nerd agenda. We see in season two on Steve's essay for colleges that he can link his grandfather's military service with his prowess on the basketball court.

It is also surprisingly well written. *shakes fist at the Duffers stop telling us he's stupid and then showing the opposite, please! Let him be smart, too!*

Summary: The Renaissance Fair is finally back in Hawkins after three year absence (Starcourt was built on the fair site and after the fire it was bulldozed back to it's original field). Everyone is excited, even Steve to everyone's amazement. But Steve is hiding other hidden depths as he offers to help the kids make their costumes for the Fair.

Lucas is struggling with being both a nerd and a jock and fears the judgment of his friends. Steve sets out to help him overcome those doubts to be himself.

Tagging the untaggable: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

Nobody expects Steve to be excited for the Renaissance fair. Dustin, Will and Lucas spend hours plotting bribes, schemes and out and out manipulations to get Steve to agree to take them. Even Robin expected him to side with her about the dust and the filth. Eddie expected him to be dismissive of the fantasy aspect of it.

Boy were they all wrong.

For it was Steve to bring up to the group after a rather successful D&D session.

In his hand was a bright pink flier and a wide grin on his face.

“Guys! The Ren Fair is back this year,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “I’ll finally be able to show off that tunic I’ve been working on.”

All heads turned to Steve in shock.

There was a cacophony of questions.

“Since when did you know how to sew?”

“What do you mean back? I didn’t even know Hawkins had one to begin with!”

“You want to go to the Ren Fair?”

“Why would you want to spend all day in the heat and dirt?”

Steve looked around at all off his friends in shock.

“Guys, I love the Ren Fair,” he muttered. “Didn’t you guys know?”

All their jaws dropped.

And Eddie? Eddie felt an icicle to the heart at the sight of Steve’s hurt expression.

“You’ll pardon the peasants, my liege,” Eddie said, bowing grandly. “I’m afraid we have all be harboring under the delusion that Ren Fairs were beneath your notice.”

Steve blinked at him a moment. “But I love that stuff. It’s the history and sword fights and jousting. It’s the like medieval Olympics. It’s the romance and chivalry of knights fighting for a fair maiden’s hand. It’s getting to dress up in fancy clothes and rip into turkey legs like a savage. What’s not to like?”

Dustin frowned. “Who here knew Steve liked history?”

Robin and Nancy raised their hands. They looked around waiting for me people to join them. But they stayed down.

Steve ducked his head and scuffed the floor with the edge of his sneaker.

“The ex-girlfriend I’ll buy,” Dustin continued. “But Robin didn’t become friends with Steve until after he graduated so how did she know?”

Robin blinked at them owlishly. “You mean you guys don’t know?”

Everyone looked around each other and then shook their heads.

“Steve was in my AP history class my junior year,” she said as if this was know fact.

“You do know that AP stands for advance placement, right?” Mike asked.

Eddie smacked the back of his head. “She was in it, dude. Don’t be an ass.”

Steve looked up at him and smiled a little.

Good, Eddie thought. Nothing like a little Mike violence to cheer up Steve.

“He wrote an essay for early placement college exams,” Nancy said. “He didn’t get a chance to turn it in because of our second go round with the Upside Down, but it was really good. It needed a little neatening up with the actual writing, but the history was solid.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks.”

Dustin looked skeptical. “What’s your favorite part of history?”

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I liked hearing about my grandpa’s time in the US army during WWII, but that was more because he made it interesting. But I really like the Industrial Revolution. Or rather the first Industrial Revolution. There have been four. The first one was from 1760-1840 and featured heavily in the textile movement.”

The room was silent.

“Why textiles, Stevie?” Eddie asked as the silence grew awkward.

Steve lit up like a child at Christmas morning and he began talking about the British textile movement.

“What the hell?” Dustin huffed, breaking into Steve monologue.

Steve ducked his head again and blushed. “Just because I’m not interested in science and fantasy doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” He straightened up. “And yeah, sometimes I get things wrong. But everyone does at some point. In fact I get a hell of a lot more flack for my intelligence than Eddie does and he repeated his senior year twice!” He took a deep breath and then ran his fingers through his hair.

“No offense,” he said waving to Eddie.

Eddie looked up at him with earnest eyes. “None taken. I concur.”

They all looked around at each other in shock. Like they hadn’t realized that they had done that.

After a few moments, Steve put his hands on his hips and pointed at all of them.

“So do you guys want to go or what?”

Eddie sat back with a smile as everyone roared their approval.

*

“No corsets,” was Robin’s only firm and fast rule for Steve when it came to dressing her up for the Ren Fair.

Steve looked her up and down. “Why on earth would I want you in a corset? Have you looked in the mirror?”

“Uh...” Robin said. “Is that a trick question? Of course I have. I don’t what that has to do with saying no to corsets though...”

Steve rolled his eyes. “In order to give you the curve you need to match the proper silhouette you would need to be cinched to hell. And as this is supposed to be fun.”

He grabbed her hand and started hauling her toward his car.

“Where are we going?”

“Thrifting!” he said with glee.

It took three different stores and a stop at the mall to get everything he needed.

“Give me three days,” he told her when he dropped her off at her house. “And I think you’ll like what I come up with.”

Robin eyed him warily. “If you say so.”

Steve laughed.

He crashed the next D&D session, showing up early to pick them up.

“What is everyone wearing to the Ren Fair?” he asked with a note pad on his lap and wagged the pen in his fingers.

“You want us to dress up?” Mike asked, eyes wide.

“Why not?” he asked with a shrug. “I’ve made my costume and currently reworking some thirfted threads for Robin’s outfit.”

Eddie blinked. “You made your costume?”

Steve shrugged again. “Yeah. I like sewing.”

There was suddenly an uproar and he held up a hand. “I can’t make you a full outfit before the Fair, but I can make over already made clothes to make them more historical. And maybe for next year I’ll have the time to make something special for everyone.”

Dustin eyed him suspiciously. “Like what?”

“Like tailoring pants to a tighter fit,” Steve explained “adding a sash or belt, turning old coats into vests and cloaks, things like that.”

They still weren’t sure how that would work out.

“Now I talked to Joyce and Claudia,” he continued. “And they’re both willing to help out in making sure everyone has something nice to wear. That includes Max and El.”

“Are the fair maidens joining us?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Joyce is doing El and Will, Claudia is doing Dustin and Mike, and I’m doing Lucas and Max. Eddie said he already had a costume, so I didn’t have to worry about him.”

Eddie grinned. “You better believe it, pretty boy.”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “So we’re all going thrifting with a $5 limit for each of you. But I wanted to brainstorm some ideas of what you wanted to go as so we don’t waste time wandering around.”

Everyone started shouting at once and it took Steve a good ten minutes before he got everyone calmed down enough to get what they wanted. Dustin wanted to go as a hobbit, but Steve had to nix that one.

“You don’t want to go running around the grounds barefoot,” he explained with a wince. “It’s not safe.”

“I’m going to have to agree with Stevie on this one,” Eddie said. “You guys have never been but there is all sorts of stuff laying around. It’s not indoors and the pathways are dirt lined. Think the state fair. It’s more like that then going to comic book convention.”

Dustin grumbled but conceded the point. Steve got them to decide on... well not quite peasant gear, but more rough around the edges than what Steve would be wearing.

Well, all but Lucas. He didn’t want to wear what they were wearing but he refused to say what he did want to wear.

So Steve dropped him off at home last.

They pulled into his driveway and Steve turned to him. “Do you not want to dress up? Because I won’t make you.”

Lucas picked at the loose string on his sweater. “It’s not that. I just remember the last time we did a group costume and they all thought I should be Winston because I was black like he was.”

Steve frowned for a moment. “The Ghostbusters, right?”

Lucas nodded. “I knew if I brought it up they’d shoot me down again.”

“So what did you want to go as?” he asked.

Lucas huffed out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a stupid pipe dream anyway. Especially since you have to make Max’s dress and Robin’s costume, too.”

He opened the door to get out, but Steve reached over and slammed it closed.

“One, Robin’s costume is almost done,” he said counting out on his fingers. “Two, do you really think your girlfriend is going to want to wear a dress? And three, let me be the judge on what’s too much for me, okay?”

Lucas huffed a laugh at his second point. “Yeah, that was dumb of me.”

“So what is it?”

Lucas looked down again and heaved out a sigh. “An elf.”

Steve’s mind was whirling with the possibilities. “What colors?”

“What?” Lucas asked, not sure he heard Steve right.

“What colors would you want it to be?”

He pulled out the notebook and scrambled for a pen. Lucas pulled a pencil out of his bag and handed it to him.

“Uh I was thinking of a light blue and with a silver trim?” he said hesitantly.

Steve sketched something out. “Like this?”

Lucas leaned over to look at the drawing. “A little shorter so I’m not tripping over it and maybe those puffy pants?”

Steve adjusted the drawing and Lucas nodded.

“Yeah, like that.”

“All right,” Steve said. “I know exactly what to do and how to do it. It won’t be perfect because I don’t have time to do it right so I’ll be doing a lot of cheating. But yeah, it’s doable.”

Lucas gave him a hug. “Thanks, man.”

*

Steve called the one person he knew he could help him.

“Eddie,” he said the second the other man picked up. “I need your nerd connections to do a huge favor for Lucas.”

“Wha’cha got, big boy?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“You wouldn’t happen to know any Trekkies would you?” Steve asked chewing on his bottom lip.

“That depends, Stevie,” Eddie replied, “what’s the need?”

“Pointed ears.”

Eddie hummed. “I’m assuming you’re thinking Trekkie because of Spock and that’s a good thought. But I’m guessing since we’re going to the Ren Fair our stalwart ranger is wanting to be an elf?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Do you know anyone who can help?”

“Better than that,” Eddie said. “I know where to get the ears in the right... shade?”

Steve perked up. “Oh? I’m guessing Jeff?”

“Right in one, darlin’,” Eddie said with a soft smile. “I’ll give him a call and then call you back.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve breathed. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, doll.”

****

I am so excited for this, guys. You have no idea. I'm little history nerd myself and this really fun to play around with.

Just a heads up. We WILL be addressing Mike's casual racism from the Ghostbusters scene because I don't like that it's never been addressed.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @artiststarme ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: Rafe loves to make you cry and beg.

— warnings: smut! 18+ mentions of alcohol and cocaine, mean!rafe, dom!rafe, sub!reader, humiliation kink (maybe? idk he makes reader beg him to go fuck her in front of a shit ton of ppl), thigh riding (with ppl watching), fingering, fem receiving oral, edging, spanking, unprotected sex, degrading names (slut, whore), praise.

likes, comments n reblogs are appreciated.<3

❥ beg for it, princess — r.c

You had been very open with Rafe about the things you wanted him to do to you, with you. You’ve never hidden a kink from him, and he never hid any from you.

Rafe very quickly showed you just how willing he was to please you, he’d do absolutely anything to make his princess happy, and you would do anything for him, even if that meant letting him put you in the most painful situations, humiliate you, make you feel like a worthless slut.

For him, you’d gladly be his worthless slut, because at the end of the day, you knew he loved you. He’d do the most disgusting things to you, calling you the most degrading names while also praising you, telling you how fucking good you were doing for him.

And then, when he was done using you, he’d take care of you — Putting you in the bath and cleaning you, kissing the sides of you face and rubbing at your sore body, telling you how good you did for him. To you, it was all worth it.

You were his pathetic whore, but you were also his princess. And both were titles that you would gladly wear with a big fucking smile on your face.

-

You and Rafe are sat in the middle of a large, crowded room. His right arm is protectively wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into the exposed skin of your stomach, the thin crop top you’d chosen to wear tonight showing off just the right amount of your smooth skin.

Bringing your red solo cup to your lips, you take a small sip before resting your head on Rafe’s shoulder. He’s in the middle of a deal, a Kook by the name of Jaxon sat across from you and Rafe, trying to bargain with your boyfriend.

“C’mon man, just give it to me for $150. I promise, i’ll pay you back in two days” Jaxon says, his heavy eyes darting from Rafe’s ocean-blue ones and down to the cocaine on the table.

The corners of Rafe’s lips rise into a small amused smirk, and he rolls his head to the side, his pretty blue eyes finding yours. You lift your head to meet his intense stare, your lashes fluttering as you take another sip of your drink. “You know, Jax, i’m real into begging. Just ask Y/N. She’s always begging me to let her come, and that shits hot as fuck,” he pauses, making a tsking noise with his tongue and teeth, and your face all but turns a bright shade of red, head bowing as you bite at the rim of your cup, “But it’s just pathetic to see a grown ass man beg, especially when I know for a fact you can afford the asking price”

Jaxon’s eyes rise to look at you before they return to Rafe. He lets out a loud sigh, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and pulling out three crisp hundred dollar bills, slapping them to the table, “There. $300. Can I just have my shit now?”

Rafe smirks again, arching a brow before he releases a long breath. Rafe slowly grabs the money from the table, turning and shoving it into your black lace bra before he turns to face Jaxon again. “See, now was that so hard?” He chuckles when Jax rolls his eyes, then he moves and grabs one of the small tightly wrapped baggies, placing it between the tips of his index and middle fingers, hanging them toward Jaxon.

Jaxon yanks the small baggie from between his finger tips, letting out a huff as he moves to stand to his feet and storming away from the table. Once he’s gone, you turn and slap Rafe on the chest, a slightly annoyed and embarrassed look on your face. “Seriously? You had to drag me into that?”

Rafe laughs, turning his body to face you and wrapping his left hand around your body as well. You squeal when he uses both hands to pull you into his lap, forcing your legs to straddle either side of his hips. He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. He forces his tongue into your mouth, dominating yours instantly and making you moan into him.

Pulling away from your lips, you find yourself chasing his, an empty feeling washing over you from the loss of his lips. “You know it was funny, baby. Besides, my little slut loves to be humiliated”

You blush at the vulgar name he’s called you, but your pussy pulses, butterflies filling your stomach when you hear the name fall past his lips. As fucked up as it may sound, you did love when he humiliated you in front of people, you weren’t sure why, but it turned you on.

Rafe runs his hands down the small of your back, reaching your ass and tightly cupping it. Your hips buck forward and back arches when he begins softly massaging at the plump flesh of your ass. He slowly lifts your hips, placing you back down on his left thigh. He grabs your solo cup from your hand, downing what’s left in it and tossing it behind the two of you before his hands find your hips again.

His fingers find the waistband of your black denim shorts, shoving them down the front of them and running is fingers along the skin of your lower belly. A shiver runs through your body when you feel how close he gets to your panties and your legs tighten around his jeans-clad thigh. His eyes flick up to find yours, a smirk plastered on his lips when he sees how worked up he’s got you.

“Does my princess want to be fucked?” He asks, voice low and raspy as he pushes his fingers into the front of your lace panties.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you open your mouth to speak but nothing except a soft, pathetic moan slips from your lips. Rafe removes his hand from inside your shorts, placing it back on your hips and pressing your pussy into his thigh, allowing your clit to gain the stimulation you were craving.

You begin whimpering as you rock your hips back and forth on his thigh, his hands gripping your hips and helping you move. “That’s it baby, ride my thigh. Let everyone see how fucking desperate you are for my cock”

Your heart begins pounding in your chest as you rub yourself against his thigh, the rough material of his jeans making your inner thigh tingle, the delicious pressure on your clit pulling moans from your mouth. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, licking and biting at his smooth skin as your hips continue to rock back and fourth, a pressure building inside of you, burning brightly and wanting to explode from you when the sounds of laughter fill your ears.

Panic washes over you when you lift your head and notice many sets of eyes on you and Rafe, peoples phones pulled out and pointed toward the two of you. For a moment, you’d forgotten that you weren’t alone, forgot you were in the middle of a large living room with all of your friends crowding it. You begin breathing heavily, tears stinging at your eyes as you hear the hushed whispers about you.

Rafe cups your face in his large hands, forcing your eyes on him as he whispers, “Fuck them” He pauses when you squeeze your eyes shut, letting the first few tears fall in embarrassment, but Rafe’s fingers squeezing your cheeks have you forcing them back open, “Hey, eyes on me baby. Let them know how badly you need to be fucked, beg me for it, and i’ll take you upstairs”

A whine falls from your forcefully parted lips, and you shake your head from side to side, wishing that the ground would just swallow you whole. You couldn’t deny it though, you were turned on. All of the eyes on you, even if they were judging you, it turned you on. You never understood why you loved the humiliation Rafe gave you, you should feel ashamed, you should hate him for putting you in positions like this, but you don’t. Instead, your pussy throbs with need, wanting to feel his cock buried inside you.

“Come on, baby girl. I know you want to. Beg me to fuck you, let them all hear how much of a needy whore you are for me”

He releases your face from his hands, allowing you to throw your head forward and into his neck. His hand slaps across your ass, making you cry out from the sting it left, and you finally lift your head, pleading eyes on his. “Please? Please Rafe, I need you to fuck me. Want to be your needy whore”

Rafe softly kisses the corner of your mouth, his eyes darting around the room at all of the eyes trained on you and him. His hands tightly grip at the bottom of your thighs, lifting you with him as he stands from the couch and whispering, “Such a good fucking girl. Gotta let everyone know who the fuck you’re a needy little slut for”

He carries you up a staircase and pushes into an empty bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him with his foot. He turns, slamming your back against the closed door, pinning you in place before his lips smash into yours. You open up for him, allowing him to deepen the kiss and force his tongue into your mouth. You moan into his mouth, rolling your hips against his waist, trying to relieve some of the pressure you felt between your legs.

Rafe breaks the kiss, but his lips still hover over yours. “Beg for it baby. Beg me to fuck you”

“Please..?” You whimper, the pressure between your legs growing. You were soaked. Pussy pulsing. You needed him, but you knew he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted unless you earned it. And the only way you’d earn it, was by being pathetic and begging him.

He chuckles, his darkened over eyes finding yours. “Please what, princess? Tell me what you need”

“Please fuck me. Need your tongue, your fingers, your cock. Please…? I’ll be a good girl, just want to come.. Please, Rafe?”

Tears begin to fill your eyes. You felt pathetic. Begging to be fucked. But you didn’t care, no. No you needed him, he was like a fucking drug that you couldn’t get enough of.

He walks you over to the large bed that’s in the room, sitting you on your ass at the edge and dropping to his knees. “God I love how fucking needy and pathetic you are f’me baby” He says as his fingers pop the button of your shorts. Your breath catches in your throat when he pulls the zipper down, his fingers dropping and running across the skin of your inner thighs.

“Rafe…”

He dips his head down, his lips leaving hot, open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. You squirm, bringing your hands to the waistband of your shorts and pushing them down. His eyes find yours, amusement in his eyes. He swats your hands away, using his own to pull your shorts down your legs and tossing them behind him onto the floor.

His eyes land on your pink lace thong, his tongue darting out to lick across his bottom lip. “You’re soaked, princess” he coos. Your face turns a bright shade of red and you quickly bring your hands up, burying your face into them.

Rafe makes a tsking noise as he runs his tongue across his top teeth. His large hands come up to your small wrists, gripping at them softly and peeling them from your face. He brings them down to your sides before releasing them. His head dips down to your inner thighs, leaving another searing kiss to the skin. His hands grip at your thighs, pulling you further down the mattress and placing your shaking legs over his shoulders, pushing your panties to the side in the process. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his lips trailing kisses from the inside of your thighs and to your pelvic bone.

“R-Rafe… Please?”

He smirks against your skin, letting out an airy laugh as his darkened over blue eyes find yours. “Please what? Gotta let me know what you want baby…” He says, trailing his words off as he leaves another kiss on the top of your pussy, his mouth inching closer to where you need him most.

“Your mouth. Your cock. I need you, Rafe. Please” You cry out. His teeth sink into the skin of your inner thigh, making you cry out in pain and pleasure as he sucks a deep purple bruise into the flesh.

He releases your flesh from his lips, licking the fresh, new bruise before he begins working his way up your thighs and to your aching cunt. He places a soft kiss on your weeping core. You suck in a shaky breath when his tongue finally licks through your folds. He licks from the bottom up to your clit, flicking his tongue over the swollen and sensitive bud. His tongue begins to slowly lick up and down your soaked core, over and over again, pulling the most pathetic but sweet whines from you.

Your fingers fly into his hair, tugging softly at the messy locks as you tighten your thighs around his head, locking him in place. His tongue doesn’t let up, he laps up your juices like a starved man as you continue to cry out his name, waves of pleasure rushing through your entire body. He takes his right hand and pushes your leg down onto the bed, his grip bruising. He runs his tongue up and through your folds again, reaching your clit and sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth.

Moving his left hand from your leg, he snakes it between the two of you, running his thick fingers through your soaked folds before plunging his index and middle fingers inside of you. He curls them slightly, softly caressing that sweet spot inside of you that has your toes curling and tears falling past your bottom lashes. He creates a quick pace with his fingers, his mouth unrelenting as he continues to suck on your clit. You feel the fire burning inside of you, your release building and threatening to burst.

Your pussy clamps down around Rafe’s fingers, letting him know you’re close to the edge. He slows his fingers, stilling them inside of you and releases your clit from his lips with a pop, making you let out a frustrated whine. “Why’d you stop?!” You ask breathlessly, your head lifted just enough to find him staring up at you from between your legs. He has an amused smirk on his lips, his face and chin glistening with your arousal.

“Because, you’re gonna be a good girl and cum all over my cock”

You throw your head back in a huff, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting like a child whose parent told them they couldn’t get a treat at the grocery store. Rafe rises from his knees, his tall frame towering over you on the bed. He brings his right hand to caress your cheek before he slowly runs it down to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it and squeezing tightly, but not enough to take away your air. “Don’t be a fucking brat, or else you won’t cum tonight. Alright?”

You nod your head the best you can, tears spilling from your eyes from the ache you felt between your thighs and the pressure from Rafe’s hand around your throat.

He releases your neck and his hands fly to pop the button of his jeans before moving on to slide his zipper down. You watch him intently as he shoves the rough material down his legs, kicking them off to the side before he grips the hem of his baby blue polo and rips it up and over his head. Your mouth pools with saliva, the sight of Rafe’s shirtless body making you physically drool all over yourself.

He climbs on top of you, his left hand baring his weight while his right hand shoves his boxers down his legs. He grips the base of his cock in his right hand, stroking at it a few times before he slides his swollen head through your folds. You squirm underneath him, hips bucking forward as you silently pleaded with him to fuck you.

You open your mouth to beg some more, but your words die on your tongue, a loud gasp falling past your lips as he shoves himself inside you without warning. He slowly pulls himself out before harshly slamming back inside you, his pink tip kissing at that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. He watches intently as he pushes and pulls his cock from inside you, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. “You’ve already got a mess all over my cock baby girl. Fucking beautiful” He breathes out as he harshly slams his hips into yours again.

He pulls himself from inside you, his arms wrapping around your waist and flipping you onto your stomach has you squealing loudly. “On your hands and knees baby. Bring your knees to your chest, ass up in the air f’me”

You quickly do as he says, positioning yourself on all fours and tucking your knees up under your chest. A loud moan slips past your lips when Rafe’s hand slaps at your ass, the sting it left behind causing more tears to spill from your eyes. A dark chuckle emits from Rafe’s chest, “My girl loves when i’m rough with her, yeah?” Another slap. “I love making you cry” Another slap. “The sound makes my cock throb”

Tears stream uncontrollably down your face as Rafe continues to slap your ass, the sting bringing you an overwhelming amount of pain and pleasure. “Rafe, plea— Ah!”

Rafe shoves his cock inside you again, making your pleas die on your tongue. You fist the sheets beneath you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Rafe pounds himself into you at a ruthless pace.

Your pussy clamps down around him, sucking him in deeper. Your loud cries bounce off the walls, and you’re sure the entire party can hear you, but you don’t care. It feels too fucking good to care. The pressure in your lower belly begins to build, a bright white light burns in the back of your eyes.

“You’re so close baby. You’re fuckin’ squeezin’ me so tight. Milk my fucking cock dry baby” Rafe rasps.

A string of curses and moans slip past your lips as your pussy clenches around him, the pressure building up and bursting free. Euphoria racks your body, your legs shaking and toes curling as you come undone around Rafe’s cock.

Rafe growls, leaning his body forward so his lips are brushing against the shell of your ear. “Such a good fucking girl, ‘m right behind- fuck!”

He slams into you one final time, his dick twitching as he fills your pussy with his cum. His teeth sink into your shoulder, pulling back he kisses the bite mark and whispers, “Did so fucking good f’me baby. Let’s get you home and cleaned up”

RAFE TAGLIST: @targaryenbarbie @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @lyndys @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @kamninaries @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust

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[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶When Eddie gets a call at work telling him Adrie is sick, he rushes to pick her up from school, accidentally leaving his black notebook behind. Being you, you find the means to return it to him. But while at his trailer, you ask him the question he's been avoiding for months.

"Let's get down to those rumors, hm?"✶

NSFW — strong tw for a dark conversation surrounding eddie's past (accusations of murder, rape), heavy angst, comfort, drug/alcohol mention/use, slow burn, fluff, flirting, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 8/20 [wc: 14.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 8: The Munson Name

Leave it to Eddie to make your day special not two minutes into work.

Upon entering the garage, the back door was ajar as usual, but instead of phantom wisps of smoke swimming in the sunshaft, a shadow moved, and Eddie’s arm curled around to knock on the aluminum siding for your attention. His chain bracelet clinked from the motion, and his rings caught the light as he gestured for you to come over.

You peeked through the opening and saw him standing against the wall, but his morning smile wasn’t aimed at you, it was elsewhere, off to the side. You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, and followed where he was looking.

A bright red cardinal sat perched on the round side mirror of Eddie’s car, chirping and hopping while fluttering its wings, spinning around in search of something, and after several twittering singsongs, it flew away.

“That was precious,” you whispered, breath fogging in awe.

“I’m glad you got to see him before he took off.” Eddie grabbed the door from you and pushed you both inside, shaking his arms in an intense shiver, and shrugging his jacket up around his neck while he hugged his hands around himself in his pockets. “Uhm..”

The goofy smile he wore was mutual, as was the dear silence. The energy between you had changed; it was charged with a new development in your relationship. One that did not need to be articulated in words. It was there, in his well-rested eyes owning a playful gleam when you looked at him, and his need to rock from foot to foot in a measured sway, like a subconscious impulse to recreate that beautiful night.

Then, he cleared his throat. You averted your gaze to the floor.

“You, uh, you said it was one gift,” he recalled with an audible wince squeezing the oxygen from his sentence.

Unsure on how best to approach you buying his daughter a generous amount of presents, and hearing the impassive edge to his voice, you shut one eye and opted for a joke, “It was one gift.. bag.”

“It was too much.”

Your demeanor sagged. “Oh.”

“No, no! Not in the bad way–No.”

You perked up. “Oh?”

A soft laugh poured from the snuggly place he had his chin tucked behind the tan canvas. He dropped his shoulders, and drove his weight forward into jaunty little steps towards you, closing the gap between your bodies. There were affectionate nuances to his fond expression when he corrected himself, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. The gifts were great. Like, real home runs. Uhm, she loved them, and they were really thoughtful. Just.. really sweet of you.” Immersing himself in the steady eye contact you were both proud to uphold, he licked his lips, and raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sweet, in fact, it’s piling onto that thank you I owe you at a ridiculous rate.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I just like doing things for you and Adrie. Besides, I live rent free in a tiny town with an abysmal lack of nighttime entertainment for me to waste my money on, so I figured why not spoil my favorite four-year-old.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I don’t owe you, but” –he moved his hand around in his pocket– “I’m gonna figure out a way to repay you. Do something nice for you. Something big. Until then, your favorite almost-five-year-old made you this.”

He presented his palm to you. Cradled in it was a bracelet made of plastic beads in an assortment of colors, some shaped as stars, some with glitter, and at the middle was a name arranged in white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I had to help her spell it,” he said, tugging up his sleeve, “but it matches mine.” D-A-D-D-Y.

There was no masking the effect the bracelet had on you; breath hitched on a raw noise, chest falling on the exhale, muscles tensed on the cusp of a bigger reaction–but you tamped down the wealth of feeling wanted, and spoke beyond the heaviness in your heart, through the strain in your throat, and behind the blurriness of tears, “A true Adrie Original. I love it, tell her thank you for me.”

You slid the elastic band over your trembling left hand. He wore his on his right.

Eddie leaned in to get a better look at you, and the amusement in his face was replaced by genuine surprise. “Are you crying?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and gripped your shoulders, laughing, smiling through the embarrassment of being caught. “Maybe! It’s–It’s really sweet.”

“I’m gonna tell her you cried!”

“Don’t!” you yelped, running away from his evil fingers advancing towards your ribs.

“But it’s cute!”

“Stop chasing me!”

Luckily for you, refuge was on the other side of the glass door you managed to lock before he could grab the handle. You guarded your safe space with a glare. He pouted, and said something. You cupped your ear. He grew more passionate, flapping his lips at a rapid rate and putting his hands up in a prayer, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. You shouted you’d only let him in if he apologized for making fun of you. “I’m sorry.” The sincerity was lost on his smirk, but you gave in so you could make coffee and get to work, and so he could get said coffee and take your pen cup and put it just out of reach on the ledge of your desk while on his way out to the garage.

And unluckily for you, the first thing on your to-do list after the break was checking the flashing buttons on the phone. You picked up the receiver, pressed the playback for messages, and listened with a pen hovered over your new set of index cards.

The first one began with a startled, “U-uhm, right.”

The second one began with a confused laugh.

The third was a long pause before telling someone else in the room they’d try again later.

Dread pooled in your stomach. The recording button. The fucking recording button for an outgoing message taunted you. Faded yellow, and ugly.

With a clenched jaw, you prepared your racing heart, and pressed it. And oh God. You covered your eyes, more and more mortified as it played.

“We’re currently closed for the Holidays, and will open at 8AM, Mon–” Raspberry. “You! Why! That one was perfect. God, you are so–freaking–annoying. I swear. Obnoxious little..”

————

Standing at a respectable distance from where Eddie sat at the breakroom table with his notebook, you held up three calendars for the new year. “I’m replacing the one in the garage. Which do you want? Mythical Creatures drawn by Eric Carle, Coca Cola, or hot chicks posing on sports cars?”

He dropped his head back, and tipped his chair to balance on its rear legs. His bangs fell, showing his wrinkled forehead as he looked at you upside down. “Interesting options,” he commented.

“The mall didn’t have much left.” A lie. The calendar kiosk at the mall was stocked to the brim, you just had a hunch Eddie would go for one in particular.

“Does the mythical creature one have a dragon for a month?”

“Yes,” you said without checking.

“I’ll take that one, then.”

Predictable.

“Cool, I’ll give Mr. Moore the hot chicks, and I’ll take the Coke for me.” Speaking of–the front desk phone was ringing, and it was in your job description to answer it, you supposed.

You left him to get back to his writing, and put the receiver to your ear. The voice on the other end was politely stressed in the customer-friendly way. You left it in the cradle on hold, and called down the hallway, “Hey, Eddie, it’s Adrie’s school calling for you. I’m sure–” Stumbling out of his way, his jacket softened the blow of his shoulder knocking into you. He reached his hand back in an apologetic gesture, but his focus manifested in the flash of panic crossing his pale face. “I’m sure she’s fine,” you finished sympathetically.

He answered the woman on the line, and you waited along the wall, eyeing the scuff marks around the floorboards you should probably buff off at some point, and after his short conversation, he hung up.

“Adrie’s sick,” he said quickly, patting down his jacket. “Wayne’s not answering the phone, so I gotta go pick her up, and uh, I–” He pivoted in a circle, glancing around, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. “I–I’m sorry. She needs me.”

You drew your eyebrows in, and waved him off. “Yeah, it’s okay. You can leave. I’ll clock you out and let Carl know when he’s back from lunch.”

“Thank you,” he said in breathless earnest, leaving so quickly his boots left black streaks on the tile.

~~~

Lunch came and went. Carl came and went. The end of the hour posted under the CLOSED sign came and went. Eddie had yet to call the shop to update you, which was fine and dandy (aside from your anxiety over whether or not Adrie was okay), but in his rush, he left behind something important..

His black notebook with the devil-horned skull laid in the middle of the table like an ominous item from a horror movie.

And much like the horror movies, you as the final girl should leave it alone, right? Just.. walk away, and forget about it, and leave it for him to pick it up tomorrow, or whenever he’s able to come back to work..

But.

You were worried about Adrie, and when you went to the garage to replace the trash can liners, you saw his rings still on the black tray near the tool cabinet. Now, it’s not like he needed those either, however, what if you just.. returned them for him? And the notebook fell open while you were at it?

It was wrong. Everything about what you were doing was all so very, very wrong. Going inside Mr. Moore’s office and flipping the lightswitch, making your way to his desk in an innocent saunter, and–oops!–kneeling down to pick up a stray pen, and if the bottom drawer happened to be opened, and the plastic folder with the employee’s details from when he hired them was inside, who could blame you for taking the quickest, tiniest glance before closing it?

Yours was in there, of course, along with–

“Edward Munson,” you snorted. “Dorky name.” Duh his full name was Edward, but it was still funny to see.

You read over the top of the file where his address and phone number were. Thankfully, from your various car rides with Robin, you recognized the street name, placing it in your memories as the rusted sign next to the Forest Hills Trailer Park entrance.

The phone number you imprinted into your brain as a recreational activity, and put the folder away.

Closing the door behind you with a hefty jingle of heavy rings in your pocket, you approached the notebook, and gave it a pitied sigh. Having committed many sins in the past minute alone, you figured why not. You didn’t even feel shame opening the stupid thing after months of being teased by it. Besides, what’s the worst he could be hiding in it? It couldn’t be that embarrassing, right?

..Right?

“Okay, can honestly say I was not expecting a big tittied bird lady.” The drawing wasn’t overly detailed, but the artistry was above average. Small details etched the feathers covering her avian legs, and a gleam shone on her talons coming to a sharp point, posed to attack with milky white irises. Above her was Eddie’s stylized font: HARPY, with abbreviations and numbers in a column. His rushed handwriting filled the rest of the page. Reading it over, it appeared you opened to the middle of a story.

Thumbing through, you encountered your first dog-eared page.

IF CHEST IS CHOSEN, GO B

IF DOOR - ROLL FROM INDEX CHART POISON

Absolutely lost, you did see a box labeled B further down with a short bullet point list of what would happen, and more options to choose from on the next dog-eared section.

Flipping deeper towards the back, it was pages and pages of his handwriting. Names of characters fighting dragons. Fantasy towns housing creatures you’d never heard of. Countries with too many syllables and apostrophes. Whatever it was, you were more than happy to hop on your bike and ride it over to the trailer park, only second guessing your sense of direction three times, and releasing a grateful, “Thank God,” when you spotted it up ahead.

The place had an eeriness to it despite the slanted beams of afternoon sun gracing it in gold. Homes were tarnished with dents and algae staining the outside. Trailers slumped on their cinderblocks, buckling under the weight. RVs had permanent brush growing under their parking spots. A child’s scream echoed around the tree-less lot, but you couldn’t see them through the orderless blockade of dilapidated residences and abandoned cars. People watched you: glancing out their windows, or gathered around a charcoal barbeque. Curious eyes followed your trail down the main road. Bumping your bike around potholes, avoiding tetanus ridden nails and petrified clothes molded to the ground as if they’d been there for years.

Dogs walked their fences as you passed.

You were beginning to have some regrets when a beacon welcomed you. After a curve, an old van parked out front of a blue and white trailer came into view, but more importantly, dwarfed next to the Chevy behemoth, was a black car you’d recognize the red interior of anywhere.

The heat of parent’s concerned stares burned into the back of your neck as you rode up to the concrete stairs, leaned your bike against the metal handrail, and approached your fate.

Even though you were absolutely sure this was the correct address, you knocked with as much confidence as a dormouse. Any harder and the sound of your knuckles striking the aluminum would’ve been too loud in the creepy-quiet trailer park.

No answer.

You knocked again. Harder. Louder.

There was movement inside. Footsteps. A muffled voice. Your heart leapt. In your throat. Closer. Closer. This was so stupid. This was a mistake. This was a bad idea. The excuse in your mouth was weak, and you were about to embarrass yourself in front of your coworker by surprising him at his house, which you only knew where to find because you were snooping, and there was no amount of explaining that would help you out of your spot in hell–

Eddie swung open the door, and his heavy-browed, distrustful, annoyed, apprehensive, suspicious glare jumped to wide-eyed shock.

Your cheeks went hot.

“Nope!”

You winced at the slam, but nothing–no God’s will, no Devil’s agreement–would convince you to blink at the shuttered window where he once stood. No. No, no, no. No, never. Never would you want the searing glimpse at Eddie’s naked chest out of your sight before it was engraved into every second of every day of every night of every dream for the rest of your years.

In some part of your mind, you knew your gazes connected long enough to see the blood drain from his face, but your attention was soon urged downward, to the overwhelming amount of skin.

His hair was tied back, exposing a poetry of shadows. Hollow of his throat, to his clavicle, to the swell of his shoulders. Biceps twitching under a prominent vein when he caught himself on the trailer’s frame, and gripped the door handle. Muscles straining with fear, then soft with relief, then strong with fear again when he realized it was you who caught him in this shirtless state, discovering the beautiful line between his pecs when he flexed. Witnessing the fine wisps of softly auburn hair on his chest, juxtaposed to the wiry dark curls creating a blessed trail to the top of his sweatpants. Drooling over the eclectic collection of tattoos sporadically placed over his body. Too many to decipher in the brief encounter, aside from the dragon crawling up a sword etched into the subtle planes of his abs and curving around his slight stomach, with the blade ending at his waistband–a full picture of the tattoo you spied at the grocery store when he stretched his arms above his head.

The door creaked open again, and you’d yet to recover. But thinly obscured in the darkness of his home, he was visibly flustered as well.

Eddie hunched over, struggling to get the zipper of his tan jacket up, tugging it harshly, grinding the metal teeth in his anxious fight to cover his chest; and when it was snug to the splotchy kiss of pink on his neck, he squinted at you. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice gone hoarse from his dry mouth.

Knees locked, and oh so staring him directly in the eyes, you took the black notebook from under your arm (not remembering when you tucked it there), and showed it to him. “You left this at work.”

He took it from you slowly without a thanks.

“And, uh,” you continued, gathering the clinking jewelry in your jacket. “These too.” You dropped them into his cupped palm, brushing your pinky over a scratchy callus, experiencing the zing of intimacy of skin on skin.

And he felt it too, with how he curled his fingers in to seal the fleeting sensation.

Pocketing his rings, he stood meek in his doorway. The pain of expecting someone different to be knocking at his trailer had dwindled, but the tension was there in between his eyebrows, weighing on the slope of his gentle frown, painting brilliant highlights on the long line of his nose in the blazing dayglow threatening to invade his home.

The dull brown of his eyes glinted aside the honey as his mouth hung slightly open, tip of his tongue curled against the pearly dam of his teeth. The lined pages of the well worn notebook fanned out, flopping in his grip. “Did you read what was in here?”

Shifting your gaze to the sharp edge of the tin roof decorated in elaborate dangly fish hooks, you clasped your hands behind your back in a cute way, and delivered the answer he awaited with an inflection like it was a question, “No..?”

“For an actress, you’re bad at lying.”

“Or I’m being obvious on purpose so you tell me what it is.”

Working his jaw back and forth, he bided his time, each grind a consideration at his options in regards to how vulnerable he should be, and if this would be the final nail in the corroded coffin where you’d realize what a giant loser he was. “It’s..” You leaned towards him in interest, and he looked away. “It’s notes and stuff for Dungeons and Dragons,” he admitted in a mumble.

“Nerd! Nerd!” You jumped up and down, pointing, shouting, “I knew it! You’re a nerd!”

Twisting his mouth in a sarcastic sneer at your childishness, he snatched the side of the door and began shutting you out. “Okay, okay. I get it. See why I didn’t want to tell you?”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you exhaled, switching on a dime from your teasing to a serious tone. You caught the door, and pleaded for him to stop being an idiot, “I knew you were a dweeb when you held me hostage for an entire thirteen minute lecture about your song lyrics. The Dungeons and Dragons shit is the third least surprising thing you’ve ever told me.” You clasped your hand over your heart. “Truly.”

“What’s the second?”

“Your music tastes.”

“And the first?” he asked, despite his better judgment.

“That you’re single.”

He announced his displeasure in a deadpan expression. “And I’m beginning to see why you are, too–” All of him went rigid, withdrawing slightly into the trailer with his head lowered, ear angled towards the right of him, listening as his gaze went unfocused.

After a few seconds, his lungs reawakened with a relieved breath. “Just coughing,” he said to himself. Dragging his attention back to you, he gestured weakly at his jacket to indicate his lack of clothing, still embarrassed at the situation. “Adrie, uh.. She puked on me earlier. That’s why I wasn’t–uhm–dressed.”

Worry edged its way into your question, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. Kids get sick from daycare all the time. Basically just sentient germs running around, licking their hands after touching everything.”

Your eyebrows ticked up at the memory of the awful Dayquil hangovers following the weekends you worked as a clown for children’s birthday parties.

You asked, “And what about Wayne?”

“Hm? Oh.” Recognition, and the ease of a casual conversation overtook the near-permanent anticipatory hardness to his features, softening his bristly nature around you; finding you comforting when he was in the place where he was supposed to feel safest, but didn’t.

Home wasn’t home for Eddie Munson, and you felt that icy statement behind your ribs as you watched him pat his pocket as a way to check his rings were there for reassurance, acutely aware there was an hostile world at your back, and you chose to only see each other.

There was a tender innocence to his lip crooking up in a lopsided grin as he remembered you asked him a question. “Typical old man. Wayne was outside and didn’t hear the phone ring, that’s why he didn’t answer. He’s at work now, though.”

“Mm,” you hummed. “Do you have soup?”

“Soup?”

“For Adrie,” you clarified.

He glanced over his shoulder, assumingly at the kitchen, and after some mental deduction, he shrugged in vague nonchalance. “Yeah, there’s probably soup for her.” As if you didn’t know him well enough at this point to read past the nervous habits weaving their way into his fidgety unsureness.

You backed down the stairs as you spoke, “Okay. Well then, guess I’ll get going since you have everything on lock down here. Got your sick kid, got your soup, got your notebook, and your uncle’s at work. Sounds like everything’s in order.” Hopping off the last step, you swung around the handrail and guided your bike to the road, beaming. “See ya!”

“Yeah, see ya,” he replied, settling into his usual side-ways glance around the trailer park, challenging the gawkers who watched a girl willingly walk up to his home and leave it smiling. They did not dare to say anything, of course; returning to their lives with sealed lips, pretending to pay him no mind. Just how it should be.

He held his chin high.

————

And when Eddie next answered the door, it was in the low blue hue of a setted sun, and he did so in his black jeans and a white tank top. His unzipped work jacket swayed prettily around his torso, low bun at his nape loosened to a mess, short curls in a frizz over his ears, and cheeks flushed. “I figured you’d be back,” he forced out evenly, doing his best to disguise his panting breaths.

You hugged the brown paper grocery bags to your chin, and grinned.

He stuck his foot behind him in an awkward curtsy, and swept his arm for you to enter.

Walking into his place for the first time there were many things to comprehend, absorb, fawn over, and ask about until he was tired of explaining their origins–and since you were already crossing an entire notebook’s worth of lines today, you inquired about the most obvious. “You, uh, like collecting hats and mugs?”

“They’re Wayne’s,” he grunted, unplugging the vacuum he left in the middle of the living room by yanking the cord out of the wall, and dragging it on his way to the hallway closet where he kicked and shoved things aside to make room, rattling the thin door that definitely had been punched through at one point, patched and painted over, and was now a canvas for crayon squiggles along the bottom. “Before he worked at the power plant, he was a trucker. Collected them at every rest stop in every state, that sorta thing.”

“Ah.”

In a quick spin, he surveyed the rest of the trailer, and made a similar “ah” sound when he saw the cleaning products and balled up paper towels on the tiny table squeezed against the wall. He lunged for them, stuffing the evidence and other garbage into the overflowing trash can. “I still keep up the tradition by getting him a mug for Christmas.” Jerking his chin at the shelf above him, he specified the one on the end. “This year was Looney Tunes.”

“How cute.” The bags crinkled in your arms as you stood in the entryway, nodding expectantly.

“Shit–Sorry.”

You smiled. He finished clearing a space on the wrap-around kitchen counter for you to set the groceries down, scooting a candle out of the way, flickering the flame he may have burnt himself on while lighting, if the red mark on his thumb was anything to go by. And he was back to pivoting, scanning the area, desperate to latch onto the object which would jog his memory on where he was in his cleaning: dishes dripped in the drying rack, Wayne’s grilled cheese endeavor was out of sight, the bathroom radiated the nose-burning scent of bleach.

He snapped his fingers at the overflowing trash can, and almost slipped in his frenzy to tie up the bag and rush for his boots, saying he’ll be right back on his way out, leaping down the stairs.

“Alrighty..”

The steady rumble of a washing machine rattled every loose bit of metal in the museum of belongings.

You waged war with your tennis shoes, wiggling out of them with the laces still tied, and stepped off the carpet dividing the trailer in half. The bubbling vinyl kitchen floor stuck to your socks, still damp from being mopped, and heaved the groceries onto the pale blue countertop, sliding them across decades worth of scratches scarring the material. Once you were sure you could let them go without a toppling situation, you took the goods out one at a time, but your attention was nosy and undivided.

Acting as foreground to the walls of hats and mugs was the rest of Eddie’s life. Laundry baskets occupied a couch with flattened cushions. A coffee table supported stacks of his daughter’s playthings after picking them out of the vacuum’s path. There was a fold out bed in the corner, and a modest TV situated on top of a VCR. To compensate for the lack of overhead light was an abundance of mismatched lamps on each surface.

It was a hodge podge, and it was cramped, and it was incomprehensible, and it was his house.

Turning, you began to guess at which cabinets he would store a bag of rice when you spotted the artwork hanging on the fridge.

Pinned under a teddy bear magnet was a decoupaged version of your Thanksgiving turkeys, cut out and glued to a single piece of construction paper, complete with the castle in the background. And secured safely under a smiley face magnet was a stick figure drawing of two people–one in a pink dress, one in all black scribble–and dated in neat ink by someone with less messy handwriting: 5/7/92.

Eddie came back to your wide grin, and two cans of baked beans held up in a question.

“They go over here,” he said, nodding at the skinny door next to where he stood at the small green table set for three chairs, organizing today’s mail in his hand.

You opened the pantry next to the recessed oven, and stacked the rest of the cans inside. Towards the back there were two white cereal boxes with plain blue text and nothing else, leaving you to deduce no one in his family stooped to eating unsweetened cornflakes even if that’s all they had. Meanwhile, he arranged overdue bills into a ladder style letter holder hung on the wall beside the phone, periodically taking one out and placing it down a rung, ordering them from most to least important.

“I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday, but I had to buy and install a new hot water heater,” he told you suddenly. Whether he was saying this because he was coasting on the fumes of his Christmas bonus until December’s child support arrived, or because he was simply too busy to go shopping, neither of you addressed it more than necessary. He accepted your help, and you didn’t pry.

“Unexpected shit sucks, huh?” you added for his benefit.

“Yeah,” he huffed in a short laugh, playing the same game.

And it was him who rested his forearms on the edge of the pale blue wrap-around counter, watching you commit good deed after good deed, guessing where groceries went in the cabinets, acclimating to his kitchen’s set up, and making room for a bag of grapes and three apples between his six pack of Pabst and block of Government cheese.

“Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

You brightened at his voice, teetering on the edge of a smile just from that alone. “Always.”

He drew absent-minded circles with his finger as he tried to find the best way to word something he wondered about since the week you met. “When you saw Adrie for the first time, you had this really, uh, surprised look on your face.. Why was that?”

Your tone was dismissive in the wake of something that appeared to haunt him, “Oh, that?” You folded down the empty paper bags, and placed them on top of the fridge after he said Adrie would use them for arts and crafts. “Well, it’s like, Mr. Moore has dozens of pictures of his family on his desk, and Carl told me–approximately–ten different stories about his sons an hour after meeting him, and Kevin carries pictures of his dogs in his wallet. It just seemed like if you had a daughter, you would’ve shown me a picture too, like most dads.” You waved your hands around, and contorted your mouth in a silly manner. “I mean, it was just weird you never mentioned her.”

He took your assessment to heart, and opened the drawer closest to him. Amongst the clutter of junk was his black wallet resting on a coiled chain with clips on either end. Taking out the cheap leather, he cradled the width in his palm, and wiggled out a picture kept sealed behind a plastic window. He said, “Actually, I do carry a picture of her,” and handed it to you.

On instinct, you pored over the image of him first, prizing the crown of his head sporting the same wild haircut. He had his face tipped down to the newborn wrapped in a pink blanket in his arms, crooking her in their safety as he held a bottle to her lips. His knees were on display behind his ripped black jeans. His shirt was sleeveless. She was tiny and precious. He was decidedly emotionless from what you could see, sat on a couch that was not the same as the one across the room from you.

“That was taken at Harrington’s place,” he answered your unstated question, keen to the recognition washing over your face as you placed it as Nancy’s ugly pink floral loveseat.

You gave it back to him.

He looked over the captured moment in time, bleak gaze set on his little girl when she was so fragile, and small, and when he was so weak, and teetering on a long overdue breakdown.

“It took me a long time to carry this around,” he said, tone heavy with disappointment, regret, and shame. “Wayne and I were fighting constantly. And I mean, I don’t blame him. He gave up his life to take care of me when I was twelve, and I put so many gray hairs on his head that he went bald from my bullshit, and then there I was, bringing home a screaming infant I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of. Y’know, just proving I was a fuck-up right when he thought I was smart enough to get my act together.“ Tracing the sharp edge of the photo trimmed to fit his wallet, he placed it in its windowed slot and tossed it back in the drawer, closing the past from his sight. “I don’t have a lot of good memories from that time. Shit fucking sucked.”

“I can imagine,” was all you could say.

“I love her,” he said in the event you doubted him.

“I know you do,” you offered in return.

Steering the conversation in a different direction, you swung your index fingers at the extensive cabinetry, and asked, “Where’s a cutting board?” Right of the sink, he answered. “And a knife?” Top drawer next to your hip, he responded. But it took until you shook out the washed celery stalk, and snapped the ribs off, lining them up on the white plastic cutting board did he become suspicious.

He leaned more of his weight on his forearms, and kept his tone carefully neutral, “What’re you doing?”

Keeping your expression indifferent aside from your arched brows, you cut the celery into manageable sticks and began slicing them lengthways. “I believe I’m in Edward Munson’s trailer making him and his daughter soup.”

The crimson guitar pick at the end of his necklace swung forward, jostled from where it was stuck to the healthy sheen of sweat glistening along the top of his chest. “How do you know my full name?”

“A little birdie told me.”

He shifted his shoulders, head lowered, eyes narrowed, voice deep, “Better question. How do you know where I live?”

“A bigger birdie told me.”

“Someone told you about me?”

Rightfully confused, you pulled a face. “Huh? No. I was kidding. No one talks to me. Anyway, back to the soup.” You harnessed all your charm into impressing him by meeting his stare while you diced the celery, using your knuckles as guidance. “Are there any vegetables she won’t eat? Or stuff she’s allergic to?” Your flagrant insolence irked him: reading his notebook, inviting yourself to his residence, filling the voids in his kitchen with groceries, and now making him soup without ever asking if he wanted you to do those things.

Because of course he wanted you to do those things.

He surrendered to your kindness. “No allergies, and she’ll eat anything as long as it’s diced small–Yeah, like that–and cooked down to mush. It’s the one thing she’s always been good about.”

“And you?”

It took a few sad seconds for him to understand you were asking about his allergies and his preferences, not used to his needs being taken into consideration. “No, no, whatever you make is good. Uhm. Hey, you don’t have to do all of this. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m being serious. Adrie’s sick and I don’t want you to catch what she has.”

“Please,” you implored in thick sarcasm, “I’ve been coughed on by every disease known to man on the Q train. There’s not a cold or flu in existence I haven’t succumbed to. I’m immune at this point.”

You found a stock pot from the cabinet at the junction of the wrap-around counter and the sink, and set it on the cooktop to come to heat while you peeled and chopped an onion. Eddie dwelled in his observations; listening to you recount tales of working in kitchens because they were always hiring, collecting horror stories from being a dishwasher, a waitress, a morning food prepper; moving from title to title; birthday clown, bartender, craft store cashier. Flighty, flighty, flighty. He watched your hands move in quick chops and long sweeps down a carrot with skill he didn’t have the patience nor time to learn. He told you as much, how when he comes home he’s fucking tired, and doesn’t have the energy to make dinner.

“Now what’re you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in what he hoped was an exhausted tone, but he knew it was futile. The timidness was there, sneaking its way into his words when he made the leap to calling you an endearment in his own home. And how could he not when you pulled out a stack of tupperware, divided the piles of chopped vegetables between them, and wedged them into the freezer, still tending to the sweating mirepoix with a wooden spoon.

“It’s so next time you want soup they’re all ready to go. You don’t have to waste time cutting vegetables. Just dump a container in a pot and add broth and noodles, and call it a night.”

He made a fond noise in the back of his throat, looking at you through his lashes. “You’re really doing everything in your power to extort me for this ‘thank you’ I owe you, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who promised me something good,” you reminded him.

Water splashed, sputtered in the pot, steaming into a cloud of savory humidity, filling the living space with earthy aromatics. You added bouillon cubes, and stirred the stock together while turning the dial on high to bring the soup to a boil.

“Yeah, guess I did,” he said, petering out into a mumble, straying further from the current topic. He wasn’t finished talking about the previous one yet, and he made it known.

Tracing his thumb along his plump bottom lip, he tested a boundary, tiptoeing into a realm he did his best to ignore. “So, uh, you employ the same strategy with jobs as you do dating, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” you grinned. “Having an endless well of stories about shitty customers to pull from is perfect for stand up. Everyone loves the perpetually single girl who works in service or retail, and just can’t seem to find the love of her life, despite going on an insane amount of first dates with New York’s most average. It’s funny, and relatable.”

“And now you’re stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state.”

You released a sugary, syrupy, sweet giggle. “And now I’m stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state, and it’s the longest job I’ve ever held.”

His eyelashes fluttered from the nerves–the strong ache in his chest pressing down on him, stealing his breath. “And what about the dates? Gone on any with Hawkins’ finest?”

“Just one.” Though your back was to him while you washed and dried the cutting board, your smile was outlined in your banter. “But it was awful,” you emphasized in a dramatic sigh. “Worst date ever. He drank my Icee, wouldn’t stop talking during the movie, and, get this! He didn’t even tell me I was pretty. Not once.”

“What a jerk,” he agreed fullheartedly, scrunching his nose and twisting a curl of his hair over his stupidly smitten grin. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Actually, he was my favorite,” you corrected him, turning down the dial to where the coils lost their fluorescent glow. “Huge, huge nerd. Like, the biggest dork ever, but he was definitely my favorite out of any of my dates.” On your way to the green table, you bent close to his ear, and begged him in a whisper, “But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get a real big ego about it.”

He made a zipping motion over his mouth.

“Soups gotta simmer until the potatoes are done. Might as well sit.”

He unzipped his mouth. “When did you cut up potatoes?”

“When you were staring at me all dreamy-like,” you supplied, words dipped in coy and flirt.

Undecided on which way to balk at your claim, he did them all: rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, muttered a small “was not,” and slung himself into his usual chair at the table. He expected you to do the same, to match his silly theatrics with your own impassioned eye roll and smirk, but you didn’t. You sat across from him, poised, hands clasped together with the black notebook beside you.

The mood of the evening dipped visibly in your serious gaze set on him.

You tapped your knuckle on the metal spirals binding the worn pages of his latest campaign together. “No more secrets,” you punctuated. Three short words let go on an exhale. Three little words standing taller than the final barrier he built to keep others out. Not an ask, but a necessity if you were going to continue your relationship–platonic or not.

Your posture and expression were stern, but gentled by patience. “Let’s get to those rumors, hm.”

It was time.

No going back.

Whatever happens, happens.

Eddie took a shaky breath, and invited you over to the vulnerable truth. “Has anyone ever told you anything about me? Not like Harrington’s stories, but actual rumors?”

You shook your head. Between spending most of your time at work, or at Robin’s place, you didn’t have much opportunity to speak to random people, apart from small talk. And chit chatting about the weather was nowhere near as grave as what rooted itself in the solemn slow blink wherein he closed his eyes, and dipped his head.

“I’ll tell you everything, but can I ask you not to say anything while I explain?” he hesitated, knowing how it sounded. “I don’t know how else to word that to make it less rude, but this shit is difficult for me to talk about, and I’ll probably ramble, and go on tangents, and jump around the timeline, but, please, don’t interrupt me or say anything until I’m finished, okay? I don’t want to forget any of the details, and have to discuss this again. Can we do that?”

Digging your thumbnails harder into the flesh of your fingers, you agreed to the terms with a solid nod.

He swallowed. And when his tongue remained too thick in his dry mouth, he swallowed again, and sat up straight, pressing his back into the chair. “Okay.”

Two anxious stomachs twisted at once.

He cast his vacant stare around the room; never allowing it to land on you. This conversation was with himself and the green table and the shelf of mugs and the soup bubbling away on the stove and the washing machine entering its spinning cycle and the containers of Play-Doh on the coffee table; speaking to the non-judgemental objects instead of the person across from him.

“I’ll start with my reputation in school,” he said. “Probably doesn’t take much of an imagination to picture me as I am now with the same hobbies and opinions, just a lot louder about them. Heavy metal was the only music I listened to, and people called me weird for it. And I thought ‘weird?’ Was that supposed to bother me? I loved being weird! I wore the title ‘weird’ with pride. I didn’t want to be like everyone else. And when they saw I played Dungeons and Dragons, they called me a Satanist. Satanist? Like Ozzy, and all the bands I looked up to? Hell yeah! I thought being called a Satanist was so cool I sewed a Leviathan Cross on my jacket.” The corner of his lip jumped at a memory, smiling at something from long ago. Then, it faded. “Goes without saying I didn’t make many friends until I found other outcasts who shared those same views as me. We started a band together, and after some convincing, we made a DND club with me as the Dungeon Master. Of course people called me a cult leader for it, but being a cult leader sounded fucking awesome, so I encouraged it. Antagonized it. Weird, Devil-worshiper, cultist, freak. I wore them all like armor.”

He paused to crack his knuckles, expression falling blank as suppressed scenes unfolded in his head. “I got bullied a lot. Not that surprising. I was so aggressively opinionated about everything and never shut up. But the worst of it stopped when I got held back enough grades that I made “grown-up friends” and started dealing to help pay for my guitars and stuff.” He shrugged a single shoulder in apathy, and the tan jacket slipped down his arm, revealing a faded stick-and-poke viper above his armpit. “Unless it was Steve or someone in that friend circle, I was never invited to parties except to bring drugs. Weed, pills, whatever low scale stuff, nothing that serious, but I wasn’t very popular outside of that context.” The washing machine buzzed at the end of its cycle. “And as much as I told myself I didn’t care, I did. I did care when my friends were out on dates with their girlfriends, and I was alone, stuck in front of a record player learning a song just to give myself something to do, and something to say I did over the weekend when they all talked about the movie they saw together.. Made me feel like I was the outcast even amongst the outcasts.”

Listening, but not responding, you smoothed your thumbs over the divots in your skin your nails left behind.

Swallowing again, he faltered, “Girls didn’t like me. Even if I was the cooler, older guy who was so confident in everything he did, I was still off-putting. Or just weird in the bad way, because I didn’t know how to act, and came on too strong, or too–I don’t know–fucking dorky, doing shit like opening doors and bowing for them, laughing too loud at my own jokes when they didn’t find them funny.” It took everything you had to not to break your promise–to stay silent, and indifferent, and not gather him into a hug and assure him all those goofy mannerisms were exactly why you liked him. “I dated, y’know.. Had girlfriends here and there, but they never lasted more than a month.”

To close one chapter of his life and open another, he rubbed at his eyes, and ran a hand down his face, scrubbing over his chin as he spoke to the ceiling, “Now onto my old man.”

The hand he used to wipe the loneliness from his somber visage came to a rest on the edge of the table, and he ran the side of his palm along it as a way to fidget.

“He was in and out of jail for a number of things my whole life, but when I was twelve, he murdered someone. She was a nice lady. Well known in town, and well liked. Popular. Prom Queen, cheerleader type. Everyone loved her.. And he murdered her.”

Silence, silence, you remained in white-hot, visceral, sweat dripping, jaw-clenching silence.

“According to my criminal record, I was following in his footsteps. I had a penchant for stirring up trouble. It was fun. Stealing dumb shit, hotwiring an old car to drive us to the woods to get drunk when we were teenagers, dealing, begging Steve to throw ragers every weekend so I had an excuse to get shitfaced and run from the cops.. Yeah, it really looked like I was following in his footsteps. Following the Munson name.”

Eddie sat forward. Sleeved forearms sliding across aged coffee rings staining the green collapsible tabletop, and rubbing the backs of his fingers along the other. He was close enough for you to reach, to hold, to comfort when this was over, and the ghosts were put to rest from clouding his softhearted brown eyes.

“There was a New Year’s Eve party I was invited to” –he jumped his fingers in quotations– “on the rich side of town. It wasn’t one of Harrington’s, and I was out of my supply anyway, so I skipped out and spent the night here with my friends playing DND, and setting off fireworks in the trailer park, just having a good time.” The next inhale quivered his bottom lip, “I woke up in my bed to three cop cars blaring their sirens, and someone telling me I was being arrested for-for murder. Ah..”

You steeled yourself from blinking away.

“A girl died at that party. Prom Queen, head cheerleader. The type everyone knew, and everyone liked. And.. A-and, Jesus, I-I just need to get through this, I’m so sorry–but stuff was done to her body.”

The frankness hung in the room.

He screwed his eyes shut, and let the ugly reality spill from his mouth, “A guy from out of state went to that party with way harder shit than I sold, and she wanted to try some. They went to the bathroom together, he gave her too much, drugged her, she overdosed, and h-h-he..” His eyelids twitched with movement, and the tendons in his neck strained. You weren’t sure if he could hear the small, involuntary noise you made, but he chose the same words to avoid what you could infer. What all women could infer. “He did stuff to her body.”

His voice continued to crawl up an octave as his muscles braced in a reflexive cringe. “H-He left her there, and when her body was discovered, and the police were called, it didn’t take long before someone said they thought they saw me there, and once one person said they saw me there, suddenly everyone saw me there.” Hard swallow, palms wiped on jeans. “I was arrested the next morning, and even though I had three alibis, I didn’t have any hard receipts or any of that shit they wanted to establish where I was and at what time. And when my alibis were a bunch of Satanic cultist shithead troublemakers like me, they were brushed off. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s my friend’s word against thirty people who swore the long haired guy they saw at the party was me. Cops thought they caught their man, booked me, and had me in interrogation in under an hour from kicking down my door.”

He licked his lips.

“January of ‘88,” he said with an unsteady cadence, shooting out the sentences as they came to him, lurching faster and faster towards the horrid scars he’d never heal from. “I was so fucking lucky, so fucking lucky. DNA testing had only become a thing the year before. Mhm. That’s what saved my ass. But even then, it wasn’t like it is now. That shit took weeks to process.” He lifted his hands–fingers loosely curled, trembling. “For weeks they made me look at the pictures of her. H-Her body. The b-bruises around her neck.” He gestured at his own, and his voice swung higher pitched, “Interrogated me over and over again. For days, and weeks. Trying to get me to confess. It took weeks to prove I was innocent, and clear my name. Weeks, and weeks. A-A-And in those weeks–”

The trembling escalated to uncontrollable shaking.

“–Fuck–I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, volume fluctuating.

The air was too thick to breathe.

The wrinkles between his brows deepened, as did the lines bracketing his mouth. Red flush overtook his shuddering chest, his strained throat, his scrunched face with his eyes closed in refusal to acknowledge you sat opposite him, your expression slackened by dread.

“In the weeks between waiting f-for the DNA results,” each word wobbled worse than the last, “I found out Adrie’s mom was four months pregnant. And if I knew, then all of Hawkins knew. Everyone knew I knocked someone up, and.. and more rumors started..” He lifted his eyebrows, and his hands developed a violent shiver, hovering over the table, palms open, afraid and begging. “Because of.. what happened to the body.. People thought that she was.. That I..” each pause was a short wheeze.

Your blood ran cold with the slow realization of what word he was avoiding.

Desperation influenced his stammer, “I swear to you, w-what happened between us was consensual,” he stressed the last word in a whimper delivered straight to your dropped stomach. “She doesn’t answer my calls–but I could try, if you need to hear it from her–I promise, I promise, as soon as the rumors started, as soon as they started, she denied them. She tried to stop them from spreading. She tried. She told everyone it-it-it wasn't–that we both chose to–” he sniffed back the croaky sob, and without the grace of respite, he coughed the rasp from his throat, and ushered you into another apology you didn’t know you were owed, “I should’ve told you before we went to Adrie’s school. You had a right to know why people were staring. I’m so fucking sorry.”

In the room at the end of the dark hallway, his daughter who he sacrificed everything for rolled over in her bed, bringing the covers with her. In the belly of the trailer belonging to his uncle, you kept your feet tucked under your chair, letting the information wash over you in worse and worse crashes. In the lousy home he hated, Eddie held his breath until the aches reached their peak, and released them in a cough; and another, and another, until the pain subsided.

Deep breath, deep breath.

Your chair creaked from your uncomfortable shifting.

With time, the tension in his body waned to where his composed words could be heard in all the clarity they deserved, “I know this has been a lot to hear, and process, and I’m so sorry for unloading all of this on you at once, but I wanted you to know the whole story so you could make an informed decision.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to speak yet, but your whisper broke through, “Informed decision?”

Cheeks hot, but dry, and lower lashes clumped together from the rescinded tears, he answered you indirectly at first, “It took months to find and arrest the guy, and by then Hawkins didn’t care. Babe, you can be anonymous in the city, but this is how small town mentality works. All it took was one person to say I was at that party, and like that, my life was ruined. My name was stained. No one cared if I was innocent. The culprit was some other guy they’d never heard of from another state whose picture they flashed on the 6 o’clock news once. He might as well not even exist.” A pause. A change. A regret. “I want to protect you.”

There was pressure building behind your eyes, and you moved your gaze to the shelves above you in an effort to stifle the well of tears from falling–for him, for the dead girl, for what he was about to say next.

Eddie alternated between weakly slapping his hands flat on the table, then turning over to show his palms, then slapping them down again; guilt and shame and loneliness and fear working its way into every part of his gentle nature. “My name carries a stigma, and if you’re going to be coming around to my place, or be seen with me in public, you need to know there are consequences. Assumptions are going to be made about you. People are going to speculate, warn you, judge you. You don’t deserve that shit, so please, tell me, and I’ll accept just being friends at work, and leave it at that. I won’t ask questions. I won’t bother you. I won’t ask for more.”

“What?”

“I’ll understand,” he said, eyes tightening in a flinch.

“Eddie–” It came out broken. His encouragement for you to end the burden of this relationship at coworkers for the sake of your image stung like the tender throb of rejection–except, it was worse. It was him giving you permission to break things off because he didn’t see himself as worth the hassle.

Your poise collapsed. “You’re right, it is a lot to process, and it’s all I’m gonna be thinking about for the next week, a-and yeah, I wish you told me sooner, but Eddie–” His knuckles made a harsh sound when you grasped for his hand, knocking them on the table with the force of your messy coordination through the blur of true friendship disrupting your vision. “This changes nothing between us.”

Graceless under the circumstances, you took his right hand and wrapped your fingers around his thumb, fitting the meat of your palm into the curve of his. You delved your other fingers under his sleeve cuff, stroking them down, then up, slotting them beneath the stretchy bracelet. D-A-D-D-Y. He cupped his free hand over top of yours, enveloping them both, and waded through the entanglement to caress the prominent callus at the tip of his middle finger over the white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I’m with you,” you said. “I’m here. And whenever you want me here, whenever Adrie wants me here, ask and I’ll be on my bike pedaling as fast as I can.”

His face pinched in sentimental yearn. “Baby..”

Instead of suffocating the intensity of his emotions as he normally would, he slid his chair back and buried his head in the hollow of his outstretched arms; and in the pocket of space where he felt safest, he allowed himself the relief of two hot tears streaking through the fine sweat overtaking his puffy face. They clung to the tip of his nose, and dripped to his jeans in a loud splat.

He snorted, but it came out as a muted huff due to his stopped up sinuses. “Can’t believe I made it all the way through that sober and without crying, and then you just–went ahead and said something like that.”

You smiled. He probably did, too. Then as yours ebbed, his probably did, too.

The intertwined pocket where you clasped each other ran hot with body temperature, humidity, and the loaded implications of his confession and your subsequent acceptance. Heavy with the context for why people stared at him. Their significant glances at you, and the new depths and meaning beyond people thinking he was weird, and you were weird by association.

But at the same time, their stares didn’t last long. They were glances by every definition. A look over, a judgment, and then away, back to their own little world and their own little lives.

You asked, “Are the rumors still as bad as they were?”

The short curls at the crown of his head waved back and forth with his slow head shake. “I don’t think so. I think they’ve gotten better in a weird, fucked up way.” He sniffled, and wiped his nose on the inside of his sleeve before returning to the darkened confines of his arms, refusing excess stimulation until he could handle it. “Ever since Home Alone came out, my friends joke that I’m like that old man, y’know, the one all the neighborhood kids target, and turn one rumor about him into this entire narrative where he’s slayed over a dozen people, and keeps the bodies in his basement.” He laughed, truly. A warm, muffled thing. “That’s the sorta rumors going around now, I think; that I’m some Boogieman that gets blamed for every bump in the night. Adults probably know the accusations, but, like I said, Adrie’s mom did try to stop the other ones, but I guess I don’t know for sure if–when people look at you and me–that’s what they’re thinking. Uhm, I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore.”

“You’re good,” you consoled him. Your thumbs whispered sentiments on his skin, smoothing over the rough terrain from his labor, and catching on the excess sweat, wicking it away and creating more with each hindered brush across his inner wrist, trapped under the weight of his heavy hand copying you; running his fingers over wherever he could, needy, grounding himself to your presence, and seeking closure. “Thank you for finally telling me.”

“Thanks for listening,” he responded quietly.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders to his cheeks, and dried his face on his jacket to the best of his ability. Together, you sat in silence for a while longer, holding each other. Thinking. Decompressing. Plunging into the ice water of yet another development in your relationship, and emerging to the surface in unison, breaking the surface tension latched together by the same lifesaver.

You squeezed.

He squeezed back.

“I think I need a minute,” Eddie said, throwing his head towards the bathroom and letting go of you to inelegantly wipe at his runny nose. He drew further away from the table, standing up and walking in his odd, awkward way; playing with his bangs, and taking his hair out of the ponytail. “I’ll see if Adrie’s awake and wants soup, too.” The edge of the bathroom door flooded with yellowed light and a faucet was turned on high.

There was a nice moment where you nodded at the homely kitchen, lost in thought, absorbing the sounds and smells of the thick bubbling brew, and tomatoey pungence. Until it dawned on you.

“Shit, the soup–!”

Thankfully, as you stirred, the potatoes stuck to the bottom of the pot dislodged themselves, and nothing appeared burnt. Because, honestly, you couldn’t take the wound to your pride if the first time you ever cooked for Eddie Munson resulted in you burning soup.

After searching, you discovered the cabinet above the dish rack housed the dinnerware. You grabbed two mismatched bowls and hesitated on the shallow Little Mermaid one, until hearing the click of the bathroom door swinging open, and a squeak from the adjacent bedroom.

Soft footsteps announced his excitement before you could turn and see Eddie’s silly hand wave.

Come here, he mouthed, peeking from around the wall.

You dropped the serving spoon on the–had to be homemade–ceramic ashtray masquerading as spoon rest, and followed, hungry for new discoveries; the first being the (offensively ugly) pirate ship wheel chandelier hanging above the washing machine you had to have been an idiot to miss earlier. Deeper into the carpeted hallway was the coat closet with crayon squiggles, a shelf of kitschy knick knacks, and a thrifted painting of a lake scene with the curled-edge price sticker still on the corner of the glass. Passing the bathroom, you got a glimpse of a dark green shower curtain, a wet rag on a packed sink of various spilled products, and a bucket of rubber ducks next to the tub.

Eddie slowed, and you were confronted with his back. Slim shoulders on display from his oversized jacket falling further down his arms, thick canvas folding over itself around his tapered waist. The white tank top was stretched to fit him, hem of the armholes digging into his flexed lats as he eased the bedroom door open, back muscles contouring in the heavy shadows as he hunched and held his breath at the creaky hinges broadcasting his entrance. Edges of tattoos taunted you while he blinked into the darkness. And when the one who usurped his bed nearly five years ago didn’t wake, he straightened up and shook his hair out of his face.

He angled to the side, opening himself to you with his arm outstretched; an unspoken suggestion in his fingertips finding the edge of your cable knit sweater. You understood the glossy shine of unfiltered love in his gaze, and fit yourself between him and the doorway, stealing the soft filtered light brushing Adrienne’s sleeping form in tender illumination–made sweeter by the curls falling over her closed eyes, and the pale blue unicorn hugged in her arms.

‘Oh,’ you sighed in surprise, and clasped your hands on either side of your cheeks, craning to look up at him.

Just like the time he helped you hang decorations in the breakroom, your head made contact with the stick-and-poke viper, and his grin was instant.

His inhale cradled you. “She loves that thing,” he said, chest rumbling against your nape, stomach pressing to your side with an amused grunt, filling the gaps between you and him with warmth.

It was as if nothing changed. Not really.

Eddie canted his forehead to you with an expression of mild jealousy over your plush toy wrapped in his little girl’s arms when his cold plasticy ones sat at a miniature table in a pink playhouse pretending to have a tea party. His eyebrows were the same–raised, hidden beneath the wet stringy pieces of his bangs skimming his wrinkled forehead. His damp cheeks, jaw, and neck were the same after his cold water wake up call, splashing himself over the bathroom sink. His full lips were the same, pink and pulled back to show his teeth. His strong chin was the same, peppered with a recent shave. His handsome nose was the same, albeit red. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes were the same, if not slightly fuller from his recent cry.

But everything had changed.

Before, you lacked the understanding of the fear in his eyes when Mr. Moore had walked into the shop. How he had risked a painful bruise on his hip from the chair he knocked over in his scramble to get away from you. The tremble in his hands when he ran them through his hair in an urgent act to appear composed, and not like he was doing something worse with you. To you.

Everything was different, but it was felt, not seen.

The leftover adrenaline from the confrontation at his kitchen table faded, and in its place, rising from the truest, barest, rawest vulnerabilities of himself, was trust. A candid expression of respect in his palm at your back, fingers curled in to stroke his nails along the knitted design of your turtleneck. He confessed his secrets, you knew him to be an innocent man, and despite his worry for your reputation becoming infected by his, you promised him the same loyalty you always had, because there was not a lie in existence that would break the bond you facilitated months ago, born from your sheer desire to annoy the one mechanic who wouldn’t speak to you.

Felt, not seen.

A promise, and an urge.

The tingly pleasure of his nails scratching over your sweater advanced to a divine expression of affection.

He wrapped his arm around you, settling his hand in the curve above your hip. It lasted all of two seconds, long enough for him to bring you into the crook of his body for the purpose of whispering something in your ear, but it was a phenomenal improvement over the usual nervous flittering his fingers performed when in your company.

His voice was candy sweet after watching your face break into a smile for his daughter, “Maybe we should let her sleep, hmm?”

You leaned into him. “Yeah,” you sighed, rolling your head along his shoulder, guiding your silly grin from him to Adrie. “She looks so peaceful.”

“And quiet,” he observed in the wise tone of a single father after long hours of soothing his child’s headache when her cries created one of his own, and juggling the duty of cleaning up her puke from the floor, her clothes, his clothes, and bathing her while wallowing in the misery of doing it all by himself.

Eddie persuaded you into the hallway, and closed the door behind him, letting his arm fall to his side, ending the cocoon of warmth he provided with the harsh drag of the metal zipper scratching across the back of your jeans. He followed you to the kitchen and opened the fridge, muttering a string of words about deserving something as he snapped a silver and blue can from the plastic ring holding them together. “Want a beer? I don’t think you can get a DUI on a bike.”

“You actually can in some states.” You didn’t elaborate, and continued spooning soup into the bowls in questionable silence. “But no, thank you.”

Crack, tss. He held your stare over the rim as he tipped back a long gulp, pressed his lips together, and swallowed with a satisfied ‘ah,’ giving you ample time to ignore him. Finally, he moved his hand about, and asked, “Not gonna tell me why you know that?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

Moving on, you located two spoons from the absolute chaos of the cutlery drawer, and brought the bowls to the table while he reached into the pantry for an open sleeve of saltines, tossing them between the both of you and falling into his chair with a soft grunt.

“This looks great,” he complimented in earnest, voice and face alight with appreciation as he thrashed his arms to get out of his jacket, and took another sip of beer before crowding his side of the table with elbows, forearms, and hands; always holding the Pabst, or the soup, or reaching; always in motion, dominating the space you shared between your bowls, and beneath, where your legs were slotted in tight between his wide-spread knees.

His manners were about what you would assume after eating lunch with him many times, but that’s not what had you breathless.

He just.. took off his jacket like it was a completely normal thing he did dozens of times in front of you, sometimes accompanied by a hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips, or joined by a sneer at some bad joke you told.

But it wasn’t normal. Not this time.

Hungry, hungry, hungry, you devoured the sight of his bare skin.

While he stirred the finely diced carrots and potatoes, you were afforded the time to admire the art no longer hidden by coveralls. Guessing at the older blotchy etches on his inner arm, theorizing about the origins of the souvenirs done in various stages between professional and very not professional, probably by himself or a friend. He didn’t have many, but it was easy to get caught up in the collection of motifs spanning from the top of his shoulders, and crawling in disorder downwards, to a tiny dagger at the apex of his bicep, two dice above his elbow, and a classic twist of barbed wire. Very cool and tough, but your roving stopped at one tattoo in particular.

Rather, one cluster of tattoos making up a whole.

“The bats..”

He perked up at your whisper–”Hm?”–and looked down at his arm. “Oh, yeah. These were my fourth, I think? Somethin’ like that. You like ‘em?” he asked, mouth cutting into the same delighted place a smirk originated from, but with more fascination as he too realized this was your first (technically second) time seeing his exposed arms.

Sucking in your cheeks to curb your habit of smiling at everything he said, you nodded in response, falling into a rhythmic head dip as you thought back to your first time meeting Adrie, and the picture she drew for you, and her Halloween costume, and how she chose not to dress as a princess like all her friends, but as a bat instead, because her daddy liked bats. “Yeah.. Yeah, I like them.”

He removed the twist tie from around the crackers and counted out three, stacking them neatly between his palms and, without warning, crushing them into his soup, sending a fine powder into the air.

It was obvious you were watching him on account of your untouched food, but it was beyond your control. Winter created a barrier between you and his skin. You needed to reap the beauty now while you could. Learn what you could, like the scorpion above his collar bone opposite the viper, and the eyeball monster with tentacles twisting over the bulk of muscles laying dormant in his solid forearms, and whatever the hell else was peeking out from under his tank top.

He scraped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl, and determined he needed one more cracker to make his soup as thick as he liked, and collected it from the crinkly pack. Yet another simple movement he had executed hundreds of times in front of you, and yet..

You stared. And stared. And stared. And made a sound of disgust. Rising from your chair, you loomed an impressive shadow over Eddie’s face as he gazed up at you with an expression of open confusion.

His eyes were trained solely on the pretty glint in yours. 

Shiver. Goosebumps.

He jumped at your bold finger slipping under the strap of his tank top to move it aside. You pinched your brows, narrowed your eyes, and pressed your palm to his skin, enthralled by the sensation of him existing under you, aware of the full breath he took to fill out his chest as you introduced the touch.

Humming, you studied your hand cupped over the black widow spider inked onto his naked pec, and concluded, “That one’s smaller than my palm.”

The pale saltine cracker shattered in his grip.

Acting oblivious, you scooted your chair under you, sat, smoothed your hands over your lap as if a napkin existed there, and slurped your spoonful of soup as if you had done something as natural as point out the weather.

He released his surprise in a huff, and brushed the crumbs from his palms. “You are the lamest person I have ever met.”

“Have you met yourself?” At his weak glare, you slurped more of your soup. An amicable silence followed–the sort of camaraderie communicated through full bellies–but there’d been something on your mind since he willingly opened himself up to you and shared his past, expecting his name to become a forgotten word in your mouth and nothing more. “Hey, since we’re like, baring our souls and shit tonight, do you want to know why I created my ‘yes’ policy?”

Instead of a comically over-quirked eyebrow, he showed genuine interest in listening to your story. He set down his spoon, and turned his full attention to you. “I’m intrigued.”

“I’m tellin’ ya now, it’s not as riveting as yours, but uh,” you faltered on a pause, and fostered the same sort of nervous shrug he did. “Growing up, my parents were really.. negative, I guess is the best way to put it. Like, they wouldn’t let me hang out with friends, told me I’d never amount to anything, said I was a disappointment. Y’know, normal stuff. Uhm, I wasn’t allowed to do much, only really leaving the house to go to school or go to my job when I was old enough to have one. They said I’d never live up to their expectations, I was a failure, I’d never get a boyfriend, I’d be a bad wife, I’m going nowhere in life, and I’m an annoyance and take up too much of their time, and I was never wanted.” You swiped your tongue along your top teeth, and popped your lips after perhaps sharing too much. “Anyway, I made good grades in high school, so I took a lot of electives, and one of those happened to be Drama class. This may come as a surprise, but I was really shy at first, but after a while I got used to playing different roles, and fell in love with the freedom of becoming whoever I wanted on stage. And one day my teacher taught us a lesson in improv, and yeah.. the moment she explained the concept of ‘Yes, and..’ I was hooked. Just the mindset of nothing being rejected, and no idea was made fun of, or shot down was brand new to me. And as you can infer by now, I adopted that ideology for my own life, and, uh, yeah, I’ve been saying ‘yes’ to everything since then and never looked back. Literally, I’ve talked to my parents like, once since moving out, and that was about my insurance.

“Uh, anyway,” you said, still talking a mile a minute, “it did kinda create a people-pleasing complex for a while. I wanted to say ‘yes’ to everyone because it made them happy, since, y’know, I was always told ‘no’ and it did the opposite. But it’s whatever. And, uh, while we’re doing this, I wanted to apologize for always pointing out that you’re single.” You avoided eye contact. “Kinda harsh in hindsight.”

He broke into a laugh–a loud clap like thunder, and curling in on himself–finding the humor in your flustered state.

“Well, I’m glad you find it so funny,” you deadpanned.

“No, no, sorry–” He concealed his giggles behind his knuckle crooked to his lips. “I, yeah, I’m sorry for pointing out that you’re single too.”

“Appreciated.”

The brief teasing commenced to a slight frown between his eyebrows. His gaze drifted to his soup, worry twisting at his lips as the bubbles of oil sloshed across the surface of the reddened broth, trembling in ripples from his bouncing leg.

Eddie was emotionally fatigued. Words weren’t coming to him–none that carried the weight they needed–so he offered an alternative to hollow apologies.

He brought a shaky spoonful of soup to his lips, and dribbled some off the side as he overcorrected the angle he needed to slide it into his mouth. The next dive for a potato proved just as awkward, trepidatious, but the struggle of eating with his non-dominant side was worth it.

Your fingertips brushed over saltine dust as you accepted the proposal of his hand resting at the center of the table, palm open, and fingers coaxing you to reunite skin on skin.

“I like your policy,” he said, voice gone gruff with the exhaustion of the day.

“Really? On more than one occasion you’ve called it stupid, irresponsible, absurd, the dumbest thing you’d ever heard of, naive–”

He shut you up by curling his fingers over yours, setting your cheeks ablaze with his unashamed thumb pressed to your bracelet. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your policy.”

A powerful move, and you matched the intimacy.

You hooked your thumb around to the scars lining the backs of his fingers, and lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, giving yourself to him with each circle you massaged over his knuckles and between the joints. He did the same. Touching, touching, touching. Trusting. Melting into each other's palms. Holding hands with a man accused of so much, and forgiven so little. Holding hands with someone, just months ago, he brushed off as flippantly as her parents did.

He was sorry for the way he treated you.

You were sorry for the way the world treated him.

He squeezed.

You squeezed back.

~~~

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked with a whine.

The pot of leftover soup still sat without a lid on the stovetop, and the serving spoon had a layer of scum dried to it. The dirty bowls and spoons were stacked in the sink, and Eddie hadn’t moved his wet laundry from the washing machine yet. Surely, you could help by wiping up the crumbs on the table, or cleaning up the spilled toothpaste on the bathroom sink, or–

He clapped his hands on your shoulders. “No,” he stressed slowly, “it’s late, and I’d prefer it if you got home before Buckley’s mom starts filing a missing persons report, and adding another rumor to my ass.” You cupped his elbows–barricaded from his body heat by his jacket–and opened your mouth, ready to argue. “And I swear if you don’t turn on your bike’s headlight, I’m gonna–”

You threw your head back, and groaned, “You’re so annoying.”

With the trailer’s door open, the quiet night penetrated the mix of air colliding from his warm kitchen and meeting the windless cold from the season, joining where your bodies connected on his cement steps. Your shoes dragged on the pebbly concrete in a woeful goodbye, making your effort to leave appear utmost arduous, tacking on a classic bottom lip pout when you both relinquished your holds on each other, and he shooed you off.

Not like you actually wanted to clean his house, it was just fun to annoy him into thinking you did.

Leaned against the doorway, he crossed his arms and tilted his head, mirroring your fondness in his gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here before people start gossiping about the pretty girl leaving my trailer, alive.”

The sudden belly laugh escaping you reverberated off the metal boneyard.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. “Sorry,” and after a thought, you asked gently while crouched to unchain your bike from the handrail, “Do you normally joke about what happened to you?”

His shadow shrugged over the hubcap hidden amongst the crunchy brittle grass. “Makes it easier, sometimes.”

“Noted.” You threw your leg over the seat, and made a big production of clicking on the headlight situated between your handlebars. “See you at work tomorrow, pretty boy.”

The scoff he was going for devolved into a snort. “Bye. Be safe. Please.”

Eddie locked the door behind him.

For minutes he stood at the center of his uncle’s trailer. It looked much the same as any other day when he came home from work, if not neater. But things had changed. As much as he liked eating across from Adrie, the two bowls in the sink were adult-sized, and it wasn’t the scent of stale smoke clinging to Wayne’s flannels that had Eddie throwing his arms over his head, locking his grip around his wrist, and twisting back and forth on the spot.

“Not exactly what I meant when I said I was gonna invite her over,” he informed no one but the darkness behind his closed eyes, remembering he promised Adrie that you’d come over soon.

Inhaling deep, he expelled a loud sigh and addressed the leftover soup. “But what a fucking night, huh?”

Inundated by the heaviness of feeling wanted, he opened the fridge and grabbed a tall boy stuffed behind the shelf of condiments. It wasn’t a drink of sadness as it usually was, but in celebration.

Afterall, he had much to celebrate. He held your hand. Twice.

And, not to mention, you know, how he showed you the gruesome details of the reality he lived in–his home, his reputation, his daughter sneezing into his open mouth when he was instructing her on how to take her temperature while you gagged from outside her bedroom. You knew it all, and you’d see him tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Morning smiles, afternoon laughter. Maybe he’d even ask that question he’d meant to before you left.

But for now..

He ran his fingers over the old tattoo on his shoulder, and pressed his palm over it, replicating the weight of your head resting there when you so lovingly witnessed Adrie being his best wingman, hugging her stuffed unicorn while she slept. It’s what gave him the bravery to wrap his arm around you. And what did you do in return? You leaned into him with a smile, utterly charmed by his forwardness, if his cynical eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

A voice in the back of his head whispered a seed of doubt, but after a sip, he dismissed it.

“Still fucking got it, Munson,” he complimented himself, downing a long gulp.

————

See you at work tomorrow..

You definitely didn’t see him tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.

“Here you go, my lovely,” Robin cooed. She entered your room on tiptoes, ever so quiet, and placed your requested bottle of Nyquil on the bedside table with a glass of water. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

You broke from your nest of blankets for the lone reason of glaring at her saccharine voice; somehow sweating through yet another t-shirt, while still shivering as if you’d just emerged from an ice bath.

“Aw, don’t look so grumpy, baby,” she comforted you with a pinch to your cheek. “It’s what you get for locking lips with Eddie.”

“I did not–” You cut your own self off with a round of coughs, making your attempts at speaking scratchier, and scratchier. And by the time you’d recovered, Robin had escorted herself out of your vicinity.

Her giggles haunted you from downstairs.

“Yeah, she’s fine!” She yelled to her mom. “Just lovesick.”

You rolled over, and sighed.

Goodbye extra sick day.

[jjkeremika]

AoT men confess their love for you

i.e., how i think they’d tell you they love you

reader x Eren, Jean, Armin, Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Levi, Zeke, Bertoldt

*unspecified gender reader*

Eren - blurts it out during sex and you can’t convince me otherwise

You and Eren weren’t really dating, per se… more like… hooking up behind your best friend’s back. The fact that Mikasa was his sister and your best friend was enough to keep both your urges at bay for a few months, but when she left for summer camp and he stayed behind, leaving just you two to keep each other company… well… things took on a life of their own.

So for the whole summer you and Eren gallivanted around the districts over, going on unlabelled dates and hiding from those (Armin, Jean) who just might tell Mikasa about the tryst, because maybe telling her was just too fast or too complicated for the easy and noncommittal situationship.

Which felt like exactly that… until you were bouncing on his cock in the back of his car, his mouth attached to your neck and your fingers curled in his hair. He thrusted upwards, evoking a loud moan from you, when Eren suddenly blurted out, “I think I love you,” with a hearty breath, his hips never stuttering as he kept the motion, his mouth compensating for the words by pressing to your neck.

Maybe it was time to call your best friend.

Jean - it slips out and he tries to deflect it but you already knew

You met Jean during volunteer community service, where you and the awkwardly-tall brunette would leisurely walk around the districts and collect litter. The first day everyone was set off in pairs, you two randomly assigned to wander the same district, and you both actively decided to group together every time after that.

Your conversations were rarely of any importance, mostly letting it serve as either a way to pass time or to express feelings and opinions about people the other doesn't know. At first, he talked an awfully lot about some woman who you weren't sure from his stories if she even knew he existed. Over the months of service together, he stopped bringing her up and started talking about this other person of interest instead.

His cheeks and ears turned bright pink whenever you'd ask about how he met this person, usually providing some vague and nondeterministic answer that honestly left you more confused than before. Some stuttered-out answers and a few too-similar-to-your-own interests later, you had a deep suspicion and debated how to delve it out of him.

It wasn't very hard. One week before the holiday break you two were wandering around, discussing future plans with friends and family for the upcoming holiday. "Are you excited for the break?" you asked, nudging his side with your elbow. "Huh?" he responded curiously, "Oh, I... Yeah, I guess." You snorted in response, "Sounds like it. C'mon, the holiday is a time for being with your love ones! Isn't that exciting?"

"But I only see them not on break, during volunteerin--" It was almost like he'd forgotten who he was speaking to, and his entire face erupted in various shades of pinks and reds, maybe even a light purple from the lack of breathing. He was internally kicking himself, berating himself for being so loose and stupid around you, for always struggling to think around you. He was oblivious to the smile on your face. "I, uh, because, I... love volunteering... so much."

Armin - tells you he's in love with you because you've changed his life (he’s poetic without meaning to be)

Armin was unusual from other men you’ve dated. Height aside, he was very in touch with his emotions, intelligent, and capable; but he tormented himself with baseless insecurities and unfounded truths until all of his perks were equally weighed down by his shortcomings. He’d bring himself down until he was impossibly low, until his opinion of himself couldn’t get lower.

He was depressed when you first met, his friends warning you that maybe it was beyond you, that it wasn’t your responsibility anyway. You knew that, of course, but it was Armin, and it’s difficult to watch sunshine be forced behind endless seas of clouds. So you’d remind him as much as possible to be kinder to himself, to speak to himself positively since he’s the only one who he will spend forever with.

It wasn’t a surprise when your relationship advanced; the effort and care you put in him nurtured feelings beyond friendship. The warmth spread inside him like a wildfire from a lit match in dry brush, and he found himself favoring you over any form of logic or reason.

It was a random weekday when he pulled you aside, trying to make time for a brief 5 minute date between lessons. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but he’d become significantly more comfortable around you over the years. “I, uh,” he started unsurely, hesitantly, “You mean so much to me. I can't imagine this life without you. I..." He crossed his forearm over his stomach as he anchored his shaky hand on the inside of his other arm's elbow, holding it tightly to stop his body from shaking as he angelically stared into your eyes. "I’m in love with you. And I don’t mean that poetically or sexually or theoretically or logically or figuratively or ideologically or any of that. I mean it literally. I am in love with you.”

Reiner - tried to act like he didn’t care but he was really invested in your response

You had been casually dating around when you first met Reiner, the tall bulky blond with the bordering-arrogant demeanor having approached you at the bar while your date was in the bathroom. He had a confident smirk plastered across his cheeks as he said, “You know, my wallet has been itching to buy the most stunning person in this room a drink, and, well, I think I’ve found them.”

It shouldn’t have worked but you’d had a few drinks already and a new heat burned in your abdomen and he was significantly more attractive than your current date, so you accepted his invitation to buy you a new drink and take the seat. A second first date of the night, completed with a quick fuck in the bathroom and at home.

Your relationship progressed smoothly from then on, with a heavy positive emphasis in the bedroom. And while neither of you ever clarified the relationship and asked if it was official, your eyes and lips and privates were so glued to each other there was no peripheral for any one else. Which was why, while Reiner never explicitly stated how he felt for you aside from daily comments--"My god, baby, you are so sexy,"; "Mmf, you make me feel too fucking good, darlin', fuck,"; "Sexiest person alive, yeah. you already know I'm speaking about you and your smart sexy ass,"--you were never really that worried anyway.

So when you two were laying on your backs in the bed, side-by-side, chest heaving to catch your breaths, and the words slipped from his mouth post-coitus, "Fuck, darlin', I love you," you were shocked, and a, "What did you say?" slipped from your mouth before you could process. He bit the inside of his lip and felt a nervous weightlessness erupt in his stomach. Reiner shrugged and sat upright, blocking his face from your view with his back. "Huh? Didn't hear me?" Reiner asked, forcing his voice to remain confident and steady, and turned to look at you briefly before stirring to stand up. He shrugged, the inside of his cheek rough and chewed up like a dog-toy. "I just said I love you. It's not a... big deal."

Porco - says it like a joke so you aren’t totally sure if he means it

Galliard was your best guy friend, joining you anywhere you didn’t want to go alone and cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He was really good at that, making you laugh, and he couldn’t deny that the sound was like music to his ears, magical notes strung together to create the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

It was exactly because of how close you two were that both of you feared doing exactly what you wanted the other to do—make the first move. And because it was the other one, every flirty touch or suggestive comments were stripped of all intention, because there’s just no way the best friend would ever be into them too. Instead, it was personally replaced with sarcastic or playful undertones and purposeful reminders of feelings that didn’t exist.

You had convinced him to go to the lake with you, which your friends conveniently bailed on so that it really was just you two. Porco had hopped into your kayak from the dock, taking you by surprise and fearing a capsize. “Porco!” you screamed, giggling, holding onto the edge of the kayak, “What’s wrong with your own kayak? Desperately trying to get close to me?”

You watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed intently, like he was carefully choosing when to breathe and what to say. “Haha, yeah,” he settled on, forcing himself to chuckle lightly, his voice littered with nuanced feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say confidently, “because I’m definitely in love with you…” You noticed Porco’s lack of eye contact, that he was now looking far off into the distance. “Or something like that,” he joked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs as he sat down behind you, hoping you couldn’t see through his charade.

Erwin (age gap) - planned it out but everything didn’t go to plan

After six months together, Erwin already knew how strongly he felt towards you. You were everything he could’ve hoped for and everything he’d waited for. He already knew he wanted you as his future spouse (eventually, he knew you weren’t ready to marry). And so he wanted the moment he told you how he felt to be special to you, to be as special as you were to him.

Erwin had your six-month anniversary date planned out to the T: first, a leisurely walk around the park; second, a quick stop at a couple of your favorite shops nearby to browse and buy you a gift (or gifts, really, he’d buy whatever you wanted); third, stop in at the new bistro you’ve been dying to try—“Ooh, Winnie, look, look! We have to go there!”; fourth, walk around and watch the stars until your feet were sore and he could carry you home.

A sudden rainstorm ruined the walk, forcing both of you to run for cover under some trees for quite some time until it passed. Once the rain finally stopped, it was too close to the dinner reservation time to stop in at the shops, and he shuttled you to the bistro. You were both sat next to a loud family with screaming children, barely able to hear the other speak the entire time, staring at each other with morose smiles while munching on mediocre food. The stars hid behind thick dark clouds as you both walked home, and Erwin felt too defeated to ask to carry you because you were finally enjoying that brisk walk.

At your doorstep, when he profusely apologized for ruining your anniversary date—“Ernie, seriously? Stop apologizing! You can’t control the weather! And the restaurant was my idea anyway.” The frown lines on his face deepened and twisted in morose. “No, that’s not…” he sighed, upset that nothing had gone to plan, “I wanted everything to be the perfect night for my perfect person, a wonderful night solely for the one I love…” he added in a whisper, “…and I messed it all up.”

Inviting him felt like the only way to reverse his thoughts, to make him realize that, despite everything he considered so wrong, it was all so correctly wrong to you it may as well have been perfect.

Levi - thinks it should be obvious since he’s still with you

It was about subtlety when dating Levi. At least, that’s what you’d figured out in the year you’ve been together. His face was relatively expressionless, so you’d learned to read his body language, but you honestly worried you’d never be fluent, because you still questioned the presence or validity of his feelings for you on some days.

He said it once, that he felt deeply for you on the day he asked you out. He repeated it on your six-month anniversary, when you asked if he still felt that way and he answered with a monotoned, “Well, yeah. Obviously. I thought it was implied since we’re together and all.”

Your favorite version of him was when he was sleepy, when he was too tired to keep his protective walls up, because he was cuddly and cozy and craved nothing but your presence and warmth and actively showered you with soft kisses.

It was when his guard was down like this that you asked him, on your one-year, if he still felt the same—shielding the fear of his answer by joking that you’ll ask him every six months—and he rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, kissing your cheek, and muttering, “Yes, love, and I’ll give you the same answer six months, six years, and six centuries from now.”

Zeke - writes you a love letter (unlike armin he tries to be poetic)

Zeke was into you well before you even started to reciprocate those feelings. There was something so enigmatic about you, a light airy aura that made him feel buoyant, that unchained him from the burden of his father’s wants and wishes. In his eyes, you saved him.

For a debt he felt he could never repay, he always brought you flowers and sweets and gifts; he wrote long poems detailing that your beauty was beyond all beholders, that you put the sun to shame, that you were the spark to start his supernova; he sent you good morning beautiful and sweet dreams baby texts, hoping you started and ended your day with a smile.

After a couple months of exclusive dating, he wrote you a love letter, expressing the extent of what you meant to him—the burning shape of you etched permanently in his heart—, handing it to you with a deep red stretched across his face and asking you to read it privately, to share it with no one.

My dearest beloved, I write as I know my tongue will fail me, reminiscent of all previous attempts where my lips part and only whimsy air escapes. Remember those moments, my dear? How you'd don a concerned expression and question me in my flustered state. Oh, how futile the intention feels when my spiritual body abandons me, rendering my physical body utterly useless in translation as my stoic invulnerability precedes me. Oh, how I yearn for you the way broken skin stitches itself back together, the way fibers of a wire stretch to hold on, to come together and remain as one. Oh, how you complete me the manner punctuation consummates these phrases, embedding the lines with a flourish no words could elicit. All your self-proclaimed flaws are null to the universe, your soul culminating as the true embodiment of pure perfection with flavorful cracks in the profile, cracks that you've offered to my pitiful soul, pristine ledges to hold on to as humanity crumbles from your grace. Oh, how if what you provide me with is god-like pity, how I want nothing more than for that bliss to fuel my burning heart, to further engulf my being with this feverish love, to only be quenched by your will.

Bertoldt - he’s shy, so his friends tell you for him

Look, really, no offense to Bertoldt, but, well, he never said a word. Which, like, what the hell? You could tell—or rather, you were pretty sure—he was into you by the way he tensed up when you were around, by the longing glances he’d cast your direction when you were nearby.

Holding conversations was difficult in an endearing way, because he was shy—painfully shy—around you, making small comments with a smile and pink cheeks, stuttering out small compliments and avoiding eye contact like he’d crossed a line (honestly you wished he’d crossed more).

You were starting to lose hope after months of talking led to little improvements, him still awkward around you, still not telling you how he really feels, if he likes you in that way. And like, how could you really be sure that he did if his hints were shit?

One day you receive a video message from Reiner, in it depicting Bertoldt and Porco sitting on a leather couch and talking—well, Porco wasn’t. Bertoldt was talking. A lot. About you. Talking about how you make him so nervous he freezes, how he finds you so attractive his body doesn’t know how to react, how he gets goosebumps on his neck at just the sound of your voice, how the secret love he had for you took up so much volume in his throat he couldn’t even speak or breathe near you.

[abbyromanoff]

For kinkmas can you do a Emily Prentiss who has a dick and get R pregnant, but abandons her for some angst, then Emily reconnects with her after a case and meets her kids and all.

YOU’RE BACK, BUT ITS TOO LATE

PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x reader

WORD COUNT: 1244

WARNINGS: smut, angst, pregnancy, abandonment, mommy (E), breeding, kids (yes they deserve a warning), arguments, Emily has a dick, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Emily’s breath panned against your face, her lips venturing to your neck in a hurry. She teased the skin with her teeth, causing shivers to run down your spine. She leaned back, smirking in glory as you grappled onto her biceps.

“You look so beautiful, baby.” She muttered, her thrusts slowing as she took a moment to admire you. Only when a whine left your lips did she continue, forcing your lip onto her own as you shared a lustful kiss.

“Please, Em,“ You gasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt liquid squirt into you. Her breath was shaggy, her voice trembling as she nodded with you.

“Mhm, going to make you a pretty little Mommy.” She chuckled, drawing long and hard hip movements, allowing you to feel her cock pulsing deep inside of you.

“I’m- I’m going to cum,” She placed each hand on either side of your head, her breasts moving with her body. You leaned forward, taking her sensitive nipple into your mouth. She moaned, tugging you closer by your hair as your legs shook.

“Cum for Mommy, sweetheart.” Your juices covered her cock as she painted your walls white, her grin wide as she admired the new ring on your finger. She had just proposed earlier that night while the stars shined bright against your skin, the ring shimmering as she placed it on your skin. She led it to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss against the material before returning her forehead to the pillows beneath you.

“I’ll never stop loving you, baby.”

“I told you I’d never stop loving you, Y/N.” The woman retorted, smiling through wet tears as she looked down on you, the ring still planted on your finger. It had been nearly a year yet you couldn’t get enough of her, no matter her actions. Only a few days after you found the sticks in the bathroom holding two lines was when she left. You weren’t able to inform her about the pregnancy, and the fact that she was going to be a mother soon.

It all happened so quickly, one moment you were the happiest you’d ever been, then the next you stood over her grave, tears racking out of you uncontrollably. You never expected her to return a year later in front of your doorstep, who would? But her hair had grown slightly, and you noticed the sore cheeks that proved her sadness wasn’t fake. She instantly fell into your arms, but you backed away, fearful of the recurring dream appearing once again. You were finally starting to heal, but now she was back, and you didn’t know what to do.

She heard the soft giggles of your child and froze, a smile threatening to take over her face as she noticed your Mother laughing at the child’s face. She had a hint of black hair on her head, even without seeing the rest of her features she could tell it was her replica.

“Emily, you can’t just barge in here after…after I believed you were dead for a whole fucking year!” You ran your fingers through your hair anxiously, steam nearly coming out of your nose and ears as she stood there; she looked so perfect. How could she stand there and look so perfect, she just tore your heart out only to rip it back out as you tried to fix it.

“I know, my love-“

“Please don’t call me that.” You begged, sniffling as she tried moving closer. Your Mother left after a screaming match was to be had between the two, both of them telling you to bring the baby girl to your room so she didn’t have to witness it. It wasn’t calm, and you were shocked you had zero neighboring complaints.

“Please, I- I didn’t mean to hurt you,”

“But you run off to fucking Paris while your pregnant wife stayed at home? Do you know how difficult those months were for me? Not only was I carrying a child, but I was dealing with the loss of the love of my fucking life! Only to find out she wasn’t even fucking dead!” She buried her head in guilt, and no matter how badly she wanted to look up and see you, she couldn’t bear to meet your tearful eyes.

“I didn’t know you were pregnant-“

“That doesn’t change shit, Emily! You left. You left me, and you left your daughter, you think I can just forget that?”

“No, I don’t expect you to. And, to be honest, I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to forgive me because I can’t even forgive myself and I never, ever will. All I want is to spend the night with you, okay? I- I want to see my daughter experience her first Christmas tomorrow morning, and I want to experience our first Christmas together again…please, I’m begging you, Y/N.” She stood, relief filling her as you allowed your fingers to interlace with hers. She looked so hopeless, you, once again, couldn’t resist her.

“Fine, but we’ll be talking about this tomorrow, don’t think I’ve even thought about forgiving you.”

You promised yourself it wouldn’t happen, that sharing a bed with her wouldn’t bring back tempting emotions, but it did the opposite. And that’s how you found yourself beneath her, your walls accepting her cock desperately, despite your previous restraints. You forced yourself to keep quiet, but it was nearly impossible as she continued to hit against your g-spot with every thrust.

“I’m so sorry, baby- fuck, I love you so much.” She reminded you, wrapping her arms around your body as she dragged you towards her. You were now riding her, your legs around her waist as your hands dug at her back, your breasts pressing against hers as they created a shared rhythm.

“We…we need to be quiet, Emilia i- is fuck! Fuck, she’s- she’s sleeping.” The name came from Emily, you remembered when she told you her dreams of passing her name down to her child, but she also didn’t enjoy her government name. She wanted her daughter to have a beautiful name to match them, and Emilia was what she came up with after years of pondering the thought. Children had always worried her, especially due to her career, but she wanted nothing more than a true, happy family - one she spent her entire trip dreaming of.

“I know, but I want to hear you. God, I- I’ve missed you so much, ‘m never leaving you two again.” Unlike the deeply sexual position you both shared, there was a sense of comfort in her words. She seemed to ease away your fears with only a promise, but you worried she’d break it once again. You couldn’t risk losing her, not again.

“Please don’t leave me, E-Em. I- ah! I need you so fucking bad.” She repositioned the two of you, letting you rest against the pillows as she took a moment to admire your body. It was scarred, your skin holding wounds of pain yet beauty. The stretch marks represented her child - her baby girl, and she couldn’t have loved them more. She kissed the ones in reach, smiling up at you before kissing your lips in a passionate, loving gesture. She waited for you to pull back, but you never did.

“I told you I’d never stop loving you, Y/N.” And she meant it, she meant every word.