#going to little plastic donuts!!!!

[strange-calathea]

Dude I'm just a CD girl in a streaming world :(

[chrissv4mp]

make a movie with you that we'd have to hide , CHRIS S.

summary: you can't help but be obsessed with everything about your boyfriend, and one night, you ask him if you two could try something... different.

pairing: chris stuniolo × fem!reader

warnings: SUPER subby!chris, sorta shy!chris, pet names (ma, baby, love, good boy, baby boy, pretty boy, etc.), handjobs, p in v, unprotected sex, recording, begging, overstimulation, degradation, choking if you squint, name-calling (slut, etc.), just pure filth🤷‍♀️

a/n: chris......... these photo dumps have me screaming, i think i'm transitioning to a chris girl😖

"clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on. if i'm allowed, i'll help you take 'em off..." - LUNCH , billie e.

the door shut softly, and the next thing you heard were chris's footsteps coming down the hall.

his lips curved into a smile the second he caught sight of you, stretching his arms put before falling into your embrace on the couch.

"hi, baby," you muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

chris exhaled, kissing your cheek, "hi,"

the brunette boy pulled away, staring deep into your eyes before smiling softly, "hi, ma."

he kissed your cheek before getting up, hanging his hoodie up behind the front door before going into the kitchen.

you sighed, moving the blanket off of you before following your boyfriend.

staring wasn't unusual between you two. he always looked so good, and chris had always said you looked gorgeous every second of the day.

but right now, he looked better than ever. his grey t-shirt was a bit small for him, so whenever he moved his arms it would ride up, exposing his v-line and some of his lower abdomen.

his jeans were bigger around his waist, causing them to fall a little lower. you weren't complaining, cause this was the best sight you've seen.

"y/n, baby, are you there?" you didn't even notice your boyfriends repeating your name until he snapped his fingers.

your eyes went back up to his in an instant, blood rushing to your cheeks at the fact that he might've seen you staring.

but chris wouldn't care, he knew what he was doing when he got ready this morning.

"sorry. i'm here, just zoned out." you laughed, walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

the boy chuckled, rubbing your back and giving your head a quick kiss before moving toward the fridge.

his eyes moved around the food inside before he spoke again, "should i cook? there's still that steak we bought on wednesday,"

he looked back at you, and you stared at his blue eyes just a little longer than usual before giving him a reply, "sure,"

"i mean, who's turning down professional chef, christopher sturniolo?" you joked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

chris giggled, looking back at the fridge before opening the freezer and grabbing out the packaging the steak was in.

"not even nick and matt can resist." chris smiled, grabbing the scissors to cut open the plastic.

you watched silently as chris carefully cut the packaging, eyes fixated on his hands and fingers that so delicately moved.

chris couldn't bear the silence, even if it was comfortable, "so, nick, matt, and i tried gummy food vs. regular food. shit was disgusting,"

he laughed, adding onto his topic, "also nick broke a glass, and almost the camera with a gummy donut."

you smirked, chuckling. your mind went blank for a few seconds before an idea popped into your mind.

chris was always vlogging with his brothers, and he loved to be the center of attention of everything they did.

if he liked the audience so much, then why not create a movie? a movie that was just for you and chris to see, make a movie that you two would have to hide.

"nick? seriously, out of the three of you, i would've never guessed him," you replied, the idea still lingering in your mind.

how would you even bring it up? it would be awkward, and chris might even think it's weird.

but he always told you to come to him whenever, so why were you so scared now?

"that was amazing, chris," you complimented, placing your hand on his thigh under the table.

he smiled, blushing slightly as he looked down, "thanks."

the brunette boy stood up, grabbing both of your plates and taking them to the sink. before he turned the water on, you grabbed his wrist.

"hey, i got it, go upstairs and take a shower. you've already done enough, 'kay?" you said just above a whisper, running your thumb over his palm.

he smiled softly, kissing your forehead before placing the dishes down in the sink, "you're the best. i love you, ma."

"love you, too, chris." you smiled, taking over his place at the sink as you listened to him walk up towards the stairs.

before he reached them, you called out, "i left you some clothes on the bathroom counter, too!"

he thanked you before continuing his way up to the bathroom.

rinsing off the plates and forks, you placed them on the drying rack before opening the dishwasher.

you grabbed the clean dishes from the dishwasher, putting them away in the cabinets before grabbing the dirty ones and placing them in.

as you finished, you decided to pass the time by going on your phone, lying back down on the couch before getting lost in the tiktoks on your for you page.

once you got bored, you went to instagram, going to the triplets' account and looking over their new friday photo dump.

chris was on the fourth slide alongside nick, and their friend, nate. his shirt was riding up his stomach and his boxers were showing just the slightest.

he smiled innocently, holding out the peace sign as his arm hung around nate's shoulder.

you crossed your legs, biting your lip as your eyes went over the picture again. he looked so good in it, but he also looked like he was so innocent.

fuck, you just wanted to ruin him for anyone else. you wanted to let everyone know that chris was yours.

if he allowed you tonight, you'd help him take off his clothes.

you remember picking out his red plaid pajama pants and a black wife-beater. he always looked good in that.

you decided to walk upstairs to your bedroom, it was too quiet downstairs and a bit too dark for your liking.

as you walked past the bathroom, you heard heavy breathing even over the sounds of water hitting the shower floor.

stopping right in front of the bathroom, you put your ear against the door. you gasped quietly as you heard chris moan. it was kind of high-pitched, and right after, he whimpered your name.

"fuck," you groaned quietly, deciding to just continue your walk to the bedroom.

something to tease him about later. so impatient, he couldn't even wait a few minutes longer to get off.

chris crawled onto the mattress, the edge of the bed dipping as he made his way over to you at the headboard.

his hair was still damp, water dripping off the ends every other minute.

"i missed you all day," he whispered, lying on your chest as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

your hands threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp as he lay comfortably.

"i missed you, too." you muttered, kissing his head.

his hands moved up your body, sneaking under the fabric of your shirt and continuing their way to your chest.

you sighed, feeling him toy with the fabric of your bra.

"missed all of you.." he mumbled, kissing your neck and occasionally nipping at it.

his touches weren't making the heat between your thighs any better. if anything, they just made you wetter.

you pulled on his hair softly, your grip tightening with every new mark he left on the soft skin of your neck.

"chris," you gasped, hands going down to his waist as you gripped it softly.

he whimpered at your motions, bucking his hips against yours and eliciting a groan from your throat.

a smirk came to your lips as you felt his dick bulging from underneath his pants and boxers, and the moment he stopped sucking your neck, you flipped him over on his back.

chris gasped silently, lips parted as he stared up at you with eyes full of lust.

"didn't you just get off, love?" you asked in a whisper, caressing his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip.

his face went red, turning his head to the side to try and hide.

you quickly grabbed his chin, turning his head back so that he could look straight at you.

"don't be so rude," you smiled, "can't you just answer my question? please?"

he sighed, biting his lip as he looked anywhere but your eyes. he hesitated before speaking, "yea- yes, mhm. i did, ma."

your hand went lower, traveling down his jawline and stopping at his neck. you wrapped your fingers around him, putting the slightest amount of pressure down.

"yeah? do you think you're better at getting yourself off than i am?" you teased, watching as his face contorted into a look of worry.

he shook his head frantically, and you applied more pressure to his neck for him to stop.

releasing your hand just a bit, you began again, "then why, hm?"

chris bucked his hips, his eyes rolling back as he whimpered out his answer, "was thinkin' 'bout you, fuck.. 'jus so pretty."

your frowned in fake sympathy, tilting your head a little to see his face better in the dimly-lit room.

humming, you looked around the room, eyes landing on the small digital camera chris had on his nightstand.

"hey, y'know what would make up for your mistake, baby boy?" you muttered, watching as chris's lips parted.

"what?" he whispered, finally making eye contact with you.

staying quiet, you got off him, walking around to his side of the bed and grabbing the camera.

chris sat up, eyes following your every movement as you went into your shared closet. he raised an eyebrow, clueless and confused.

when you came back to the bed, you put up his tripod, setting the camera onto it before adjusting the settings and placing it so that the camera was pointed toward the bed.

before chris could spill his thoughts, you spoke, "is this okay?"

he didn't even hesitate, nodding quickly. chris liked the idea of secret sex-tapes, ones that only you two would see.

he never told you many of his fantasies, keeping to himself every time because he would doubt you'd say yes to him.

before getting on the bed, you pressed the "record" button.

the side of the bed dipped as you crawled over to chris, pushing him to lay down again before trapping him in a heated kiss.

chris was already painfully hard, and the way you shifted around on his lap didn't make his case any better, gasps and whimpers being trapped between your two lips.

when he moaned, you slipped your tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth and running over his teeth as you groaned.

his hands went to your waist, holding you with possession as he guided your movements.

your free hand went lower, sneaking under his plaid pajamas and palming him through the soft fabric of his boxers.

chris couldn't reciprocate the kiss anymore within a few seconds, gasps, and whimpers falling from his mouth into yours.

"feels s'good," the brunette boy sighed, eyes staying shut even as you pulled away to trail kisses down his neck.

you could feel the damp spot of pre-cum on his boxers, and it made you impossibly wetter.

"so worked up," you muttered before sucking on his pulse point, hearing as chris begged in that whiny tone of his.

he wasn't even speaking coherently, blabbering out inaudible words as he gripped your waist tighter.

you left a hickey every time you went lower, leaving a trail of marks all the way to the neck of his wife-beater.

"need you, need you s'bad. please, please, ma." he groaned, eyelids fluttering open at the loss of stimulation on his clothed cock.

"be patient, i know you can." you crawled down his body, stopping right before the edge of the bed before tugging on his plaid pajama pants.

chris lifted his hips, helping you as your hands tugged the fabric down to his ankles.

before chris could beg again, you tugged his boxers down, revealing his dick that looked painfully hard.

"need you, mamas. need your hands, please, you're s'good," he whined, bucking his hips into nothing at the thought of your hands around him.

placing a hand on his hips, you stopped his movements.

he groaned out in annoyance before watching you spit in your hand and move it to his cock.

"shit," he gasped shakily, the feeling of your hand moving up and down his length making him shudder.

your thumb circled his tip, gathering the pre-cum from there and spreading it along his length.

your hand began to move faster, making chris moan even louder and buck his hips as best he could. it was all so overwhelming for him, and it was just the first round.

"god, baby, s'good to me." the brunette said in between moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his back arched slightly.

"better than your own hand?" you asked, and chris nodded quickly.

you laughed before crawling back up his body, capturing his lips in a kiss once again as you continued the movements with your hand.

chris was already so sensitive, making him more vocal and needy as he chased his high. he couldn't help it when you always looked so fucking gorgeous.

"g'nna cum, fuck, i'ma cum..!" the boy moaned against your lips, his thighs shaking as he continued bucking his hips.

your thumb circled his tip every time you stroked him, making those pretty whimpers fall from his red, puffy lips.

"c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you muttered in a seductive tone, and chris let out a low moan before doing just that.

gasps fell from his lips every second as he came down, your hand slowing down just a bit but not exactly stopping. not even when he came back.

he shook his head slowly, eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure that became more overwhelming as you pushed him past his second orgasm of the night.

"too much, baby, please," he didn't know what he was begging for, it felt so good but it also felt like it was too much.

hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat that formed there, and chris threw his head back into the pillows at your reassuring whispers.

"oh, but you wanted me so bad, pretty boy.." you kissed his jawline softly, whispering close to his ear, "you can take it."

"no, no.. can't," he whined, lips growing redder from how hard he bit them.

you rolled your eyes teasingly, the pace of your hand speeding up as you spoke, "you were acting like such a slut earlier, made it seem like you could take more than one,"

he groaned at your words, his resolve fading as he gave into you. his chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing heavy as he tried to keep eye contact with you.

"good boy, always so good," you praised, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

tears swelled in chris's eyes from the overstimulation, quiet sobs slipping from his lips from the pleasure.

it didn't long for chris to cum again, his thighs shaking as he whined loudly.

"see, you're so amazing, baby boy," you cooed, getting off the bed to strip yourself of your own clothes.

chris just stared, scooting up to sit against the headboard and sighing as he stared at every inch of your body.

"so pretty, fuck," he muttered, his dick getting hard just at the sight of your body.

he never knew someone would ever have this effect on him.

you crawled back on the bed, standing on your knees and lining chris's cock up with your entrance.

chris didn't have time to process what you were doing before you sunk down on his cock fully, making him moan out.

"one more for me?" you muttered, pecking his lips before beginning to roll your hips.

it didn't take long for chris to help you bounce on his dick, making it all the more pleasurable as you rode him.

the sounds of skin against skin filled the room along with both of your moans mixing together.

your hands tugged at his hair, making chris whine louder as he bucked his hips frantically into your pussy.

"oh my god..!" chris squirmed beneath you, nails digging into the exposes skin of your waist as he stared up at you.

your mouth hung open, gasps and moans falling out as you continued to ride him, picking up your pace.

"c'mon, baby, one more.." you muttered, eyes fixated on your boyfriends face.

chris cried out as he reached the edge, holding it as he stuttered out something, "need t'cum, please lemme cum, ma!"

you nodded, and a few seconds after chris came undone, so did you.

the brunette boy let out quiet whimpers as he came down once again, his grip on your waist loosening.

"fuck," you whispered, getting off of chris and sitting beside him.

he looked over at you, kissing your cheek with a smile, his eyes droopy from how tired he was.

"i love you," he whispered, resting his head on your bare shoulder.

"i love you, too." you replied, tilting your head to rest on his.

. . . . . . . .

tags: @starsturns234 @joemamaaa42069 @sturniolohisteric @whosthislyssbitch @sturniclo

[luveline]

hiiiiiiiii jade! <3

would you be willing to write a fic about girl dad!spencer x bombshell!reader? i can only imagine what an adorable riot their daughter would be!!!

tysm!

ty for requesting!! mom!reader

Spencer always thought you were too beautiful for him. Too funny, too brave, too confident. For years he feared he’d never be anyone you could love; he was the opposite of all your best parts, he talked too much about the wrong things, he went red whenever you so much as looked at him, and he couldn’t flirt back, not for anything. 

But it’s been a very long time since he felt that way. What good is a father who doesn’t believe in being yourself? Amanda deserved to be loved from the moment she drew breath, and he shouldn’t have been any different. 

Now, though, he’s wondering if he shouldn’t be so accepting of all her whims. “I am not wearing that, daddy,” she says. 

She’s just old enough to put together sentences but young enough that the individual words sound like building blocks, chunky and clumsy on her little mouth. Her lips are yours, her smiles and frowns one hundred percent you. (Though you argue with him often that the quizzical pout she does is all his.)

“What do you mean, angel?” he asks, bent over her sock drawer looking for a matching pair. 

“This is pink, and this is purple.” She points. 

“Yes, and you like pink and purple!” 

“I like pink… and I like purple,” she says. 

“But not together?” he asks knowingly. “You want them at different times, is that it?” 

She runs for his legs, hugging them tightly. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so much like your mommy it’s scary,” he whispers playfully, leaning down to pat her small back. “Okay, angel. I’ll find you a different dress to wear. Or maybe the dungarees!”

She lifts her chin up to smile at him. “Y’okay.” 

“Spencer, Amy!” you call, voice carrying from the kitchen. “Are you guys ready? We have to go soon and you haven’t even eaten!” 

Spencer used to sit at his desk daydreaming about you. He’d drink five cups of tea a day to get to walk past you for the kitchenette, hoping you’d be making a coffee, that you’d flirt with him over corporate rewarded donuts. Now you’re making him breakfast as he persuades your daughter into jelly shoes because she wants tall shoes like mommy. They compromise —Any will wear the wrong shoes if Spencer agrees to carry her to the kitchen table. 

“Sorry,” Spencer says as he pushes open the door into the kitchen. He's trying to be the best dad he can be all the time, but he doesn’t have a knack for the mornings like you do. “We won’t be late.” 

“That depends on how agreeable my lovely girl is feeling today.” You pick up the pink plastic plate you’ve filled with eggs, toast, and a mix of washed berries. “What do you think, Amy? Looks nummy?”

“Chocolate chip?” she asks, eyes already widening. 

“It’s breakfast, honey,” you say, scooping her out of Spencer’s arm to carry her to the table. “Chocolate chips are for dinner.” 

“Please?”

“If you promise to be really super duper good at Uncle Derek’s, then yes, you can have some chocolate chips,” you say, tucking her chair in, and kissing her chubby cheek. “You want me to make you milk or juice, mm?”

Spencer spots the two plates you’ve made up for you and him on the counter and quickly brings them to the table, sliding yours in front of you with a long-pronged fork, his hand on your shoulder to keep you in your seat. “I’ll get it,” he says, ducking down to kiss you on the side of the mouth. 

You turn to Amy. “See that, sweetheart? See how nice and kind your daddy is to me? He’s soooo nice. This is why we love him so much, and we appreciate him so much.” 

Amy nods emphatically, blueberries tumbling off of her plastic fork. “So much,” she echoes, her voice like melting sugar. 

He has a weird moment by the fridge where he has to grip the handle. “You know I used to dream about making you a cup of coffee in the mornings?” he asks. 

“Spencer, come over here and kiss me again, please,” you say, sympathetic and fond.

“Me too!” Amy says through fruit. “Me first.” 

“Oh, gosh, this is one of the hardest decisions of my life,” he says, sweeping in to dot your cheeks with kisses, hers then yours, three apiece.

[formosusiniquis]

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be. 

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

-

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

-

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though." 

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

-

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

-

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic. 

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

[likedovesinthewindd]

game; part eight of sore loser ⋆ masterlist

summary: patrick doesn't understand the game you're playing | content/warning: explicit language, light angst, arguing, and everyone being shitty lmao | tags: @midwestprincesss

"Do you ever think she's just using us?"

Art makes a questioning sound, muffled by the mouthful of donut he had all but shoved into his mouth. He chews and swallows it quickly before speaking up again. "What do you mean?" he asks.

Patrick sinks a little lower into the plastic chair, the sun catching his face before he sits upright again. "I dunno, like," he thinks a moment before continuing. "This thing we have, whatever it is," he says, gesturing between the two of them, "it just kinda revolves around tennis."

"It's like some kind of weird pavlovian response she has," he continued, eyes trained on the blue clay of the turf. "Like as soon as she starts talking about tennis, it gets her going."

"Kinky," Art joked with a playful scoff. Patrick shook his head, his body sinking back down into the chair. "It's kinda fucked up," he added softly. Art only hummed as he thought the situation through, his hand wiping across his mouth absent-mindedly. "Maybe it's better that way," he says, "I mean, she knows you're not serious—"

"Who says I'm not serious?" Patrick asked, looking at Art, who in return had a incredulous look on his face. "C'mon, Pat," he started, "you're in a new city every week, she's doing good for herself, moving up the ranks. I mean," he shrugged.

Patrick scoffed, sitting upright once again. "Why do you sound like you're trying to protect her from me or something?" he asked with a laugh lacking any humor. Art stayed quiet, his eyes now also trained on the blue turf, and just in time to see you emerge from the locker room, the giant bag hanging from your shoulder.

Patrick's eyes followed you for a moment, watching the way your tennis skirt swayed with each step before he suddenly stood up and moved through the grumbling people wordlessly.

When you scanned the crowd, you found Art sitting in the fourth row, a small smile on his face when your eyes finally met his. You returned the gesture with a wave before you noticed the seat next to him empty, no Patrick in sight. Your stomach churned with something uncertain as you started warming up.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

You lost, and horribly at that. Your opponent was still fairly new and the fact that she had managed to beat you inflated her ego by a hundred and made you want to throw the tennis racket at her head to wipe that smug look off her face. You should've been able to beat her, but you didn't, and now Sarah Joy Anderson had ended your winning streak.

You were in a foul mood after that, not even waiting around for Art and immediately making your way back to your dorm. A piping hot shower later, and you now sat quietly in bed, finally working on your assignments as the small radio on your dresser softly played.

A knock at your door startled you a bit and you had to gather all your strength to face anyone considering the mood you were in. You got up with a grunt, taking a moment to take a few calming breaths before opening the door.

It was almost funny how fast the initial calmness seeped right out of your body at the sight of Patrick standing in front of you, a matching scowl on his features.

"What kind of game are you playing here?" he asked, voice soft but still demanding of an answer. "I don't wanna do this right now," you said, ignoring his question as you moved to slam the door shut until he effectively stopped it with an outstretched arm. "I'm serious," he said, eyes staring you down and filled with so much unidentifiable emotion you almost folded. "What's your plan? Why are you doing this?" he tried again.

You were quiet for a few moments, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You were angry at him, angry at losing to fucking Sarah Joy. Angry that he thought he could come here and confront you like this. "Why weren't you there today?" you asked, a small smirk forming when you could physically see the frustration expression deepening, his hands moving to rub over his reddening face. "Because I don't want to play your fucking game anymore," he answered in a frustrated breath.

"Choose," he said suddenly, catching you off guard. "What?" you questioned, recoiling when he moved closer to you, almost in your face. "Choose," he repeated, "me or Art."

"No," you said, watching that sickening smirk stretch across his face. "C'mon, is it really that hard?" he laughed. Actually laughed. "Fuck you," you said with so much venomous anger you felt lightheaded once the words left your mouth. "Yeah, you've been trying to for months."

The sound of your open palm hitting his face was loud in the quiet hallway, echoing through the area and through your body. The bright red hand rapidly imprinting itself onto the side of his face almost made you smile if it weren't for the look on his face.

You both were quiet, the realization sinking in as you stared at each other. It was a blur after that, as cliché as it sounded. All you remember was him pulling you closer with a force that had you practically falling against his chest and his mouth on yours. And as messed up as it was, you could feel the anger pouring out of you with the way he was gripping at you and the way his mouth moved against yours almost angrily.

✰ ⊹ ˚. part nine

[myosotisa]

deep end - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖ summary: You and the gang have a pool day and some bad memories come up.

‖ tags: angst, hurt with very little comfort, post season 4, everyone lives (but that don't mean they ain't got trauma lmao), no y/n, no pronouns, reader is referred to as "honey". depictions of PTSD, anxiety/panic attacks. tw for fear of drowning. past tense? present tense? the fic is tense, that's for sure.

‖ word count: 2k

Today, May 6th, 1986, was a good day.

Up until very recently, most of the days had not been good at all. Spring break had done a number on all of you – nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks. Some worse than others.

But today was a good day.

At least, until it wasn't.

Summer sun had invaded Hawkins and left everyone sweating and seeking shade after even a few minutes outside. AC blasted indoors and opened windows begged for a breeze to come through and bring some solace from the heat. The community pool was packed shoulder to shoulder and nearly impossible to get into – but that was fine.

Because Steve Harrington had his own pool.

Eddie, Lucas, Dustin, and Max were all already in the suburban backyard by the time you showed up with Robin. Steve had joined the other boys in the shallow end to start up a game of chicken – Dustin on Steve’s shoulders and Lucas on Eddie’s. Max sat on the pool’s edge with the water up to her shins, not able to get in further with the cast still on her right arm, and rolled her eyes as her friends tumbled over and into the water just to get back up again.

Robin went to go and sit by Max while you let yourself into the Harrington home, a container of drinks destined for the fridge just inside. By the time you had them chilling and pushed back out into the oppressive heat, Steve had pulled himself out of my pool to wait for you.

“Hi honey,” he said with a sticky sweet smile, ducking in to press a kiss to your cheek and dripping water on your cover-up.

“Hey handsome,” was your easy reply, Steve's smile lighting up further at the compliment. You called him handsome all the time and he still reacted like he'd never heard it before.

“Harrington, come on!”

His smile fell slightly as he rolled his eyes, shrugging at you before jogging back over to the pool.

You were just about to pull out your book and set up on one of the deck chairs when Nancy and Mike pushed through the fence gate.

More happy greetings, a hug from Nancy, and some chatting about the things she'd brought with her. Mike stripped off his shirt and shoes before walking over to the pool steps beside Max, submerging to his chest as he watched the others continue their game.

Robin came over and helped you and Nancy blow up the 3 inner tubes she had brought – Robin having to rescue you both with her superior musicians lungs. She quickly claimed the green dinosaur float, falling into it in the water as Dustin and Mike started to squabble over what kind of dinosaur it was supposed to be.

While you had originally grabbed the unicorn float, with it's pink hair and blue horn, you were quick to notice the longing glances from Nancy and offered a trade. She never would've ended up asking for it – she thought it was too childish to actually want the unicorn float – but you didn't miss the giddy grin on her face as she traded with you and settled into the pool a lot more gracefully than Robin.

So, with your strawberry frosted donut float and book in hand, you laid out on the sticky plastic and began to roast beneath the summer sun.

You and Nancy both had paperbacks cracked open while Robin seemed content to attempt a nap beneath her shades. Max busied herself by using a foot to gently push your floats around like a slow and lazy game of bumper cars. Mike finally succumbed to peer pressure and joined in with the boys playing with a volleyball toward the deep end and everything was good.

Everyone was smiling and laughing. Warm and lazy with the heat of a good, summer day.

Focused on a particularly intense chapter, you hardly noticed someone approaching your float until a wet chin draped itself over your arm.

Steve was looking at you with that lovesick smile again, his hair wet and pushed back as his tan skin glowed beneath the golden rays. “Enjoying your book?”

“I am, thank you very much.” But still, you placed it down on your stomach and turned your attention to your pretty boyfriend. “Are you having a good day?”

“Might have a couple bruises tomorrow, but not a big deal.” He hooks a wet arm over the side of your float, anchoring himself to you, and the skin along your thigh breaks out in goosebumps from the sudden brush of water.

“Steve, that's cold!”

He barely conceals a laugh, grin growing wider, before he tilts further toward you. “What, this?”

Was the only warning you got before he shook his head out like a dog, water flying from the ends of his hair and sprinkling all over you.

You nearly squealed, shoving him off and shouting about him getting your book wet, even though the smile on your face betrayed you.

After a few minutes of insisting it was funny as you fake pouted, and then Steve giving you some pathetic puppy dog eyes, you accepted his half hearted apology and settled again – one hand intertwined with Steve's as he held onto your float.

“Nance seems fine,” he said quietly, bringing your attention to the brunette. You had told him earlier you were worried about today, about bringing her back to the pool she spent two years barely able to look at, but she seemed perfectly at ease on her unicorn float. Just slowly turning page after page as she continued through the fantasy romance novel you’d lent her last week.

“Yeah,” you agreed, exhaling a relieved sigh, “I'm glad. She deserves it, y'know? We all do.”

Steve's hand squeezed yours, bringing your attention back to him on your other side. “You're the best, you know that, right?”

Not expecting the compliment, you got slightly flustered with the praise. “No, that's you,” you joked with a light flick to the tip of his nose.

He released your hand in mock offense, pushing your float slightly away as he put on a dramatic frown. He inhaled to reply, mouth parting, before he suddenly disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

The next few moments played out in slow motion.

In reality, Lucas and Eddie dove under the water to sneak up behind Steve – each of them grabbing an ankle and tugging him under as a practical joke.

To Steve, his heart stopped.

His chest constricted as his heart rate doubled, eyes squeezing shut as the panic gripped him tight and he waited to be pulled through the gate and thrown out on the other side.

Water filled his mouth from his half completed inhale as he was dragged under – his eyes widening and immediately beginning to burn from the chlorine.

But he wasn't in the pool anymore. It was dark; so, so dark and cold. He couldn't see anything through the murky water as he sunk lower and lower. The vice around his ankle held tight as he gave a kick, continuing to pull him back down to hell again.

To you, the world flipped on its side.

The last thing you saw before Steve went under was a flash of panic in his wide, brown eyes. Just like that night, on the boat. When he got dragged down and didn't come back up again.

“Steve?!” Your call is shrill, very quickly panicked as your adrenaline surged and your body tensed for a fight. It gets the attention of the rest of the group but you don't notice – eyes hyper focused on the spot he was before he disappeared.

In reality, you could glance down and see him in the clear water, just barely a foot below the surface. But you're not there in the Harrington’s pool. You're on a boat at Lover’s Lake and the man of your dreams just disappeared into the murky depths below.

“Steve?!” You scream again, rolling off your float and into the cool water, just like you had that night. I have to go after him, I have to get to him.

You vaguely register someone calling your name but you’re diving under, eyes burning instantly as you continue to look at Steve.

Eddie and Lucas have let him go now after sensing some sort of commotion from above, but Steve isn't moving. He isn't trying to swim up, though he is slowly ascending toward the surface. He's completely frozen there in the water, curled in on himself defensively.

You grab him and he grabs you in response, his nails digging into your bicep painfully as his eyes shoot open again. He doesn't even seem to realize its you before the two of you break the surface again.

Steve gasps for air – choking slightly on the water that was still in his mouth – and then starts to cough as he grabs tightly to you with both hands.

Your heart is pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird as your eyes rapidly scan him for the battered bruising across his throat, the blood coming from his mouth. “Steve? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Robin is by your side an instant later, her head and shoulders still dry as she comes around the side to place a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder while he coughs out chlorinated water.

Steve gives a stuttered nod as the coughing stops and he's able to take another deep breath in, his grip on you loosening to not be so painful as he closes his eyes. His inhales are coming through quickly, his eyebrows drawn together tight like he's in pain.

Your tunnel vision begins to scope out and you catch sight of Lucas and Eddie looking pained and apologetic in your periphery. They're both treading water in the deep end as you turn on them, anxiety and panic filtering out quickly into rage.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh?!” You snap, causing both of them to jump. Lucas's eyes are wide as saucers and Eddie looks like he's half tempted to book it just from the look on your face. “What the fuck kind of trick was that?! Maybe I should pull a gun on you, Lucas, just for fun. Or maybe, Eddie, I'll loop a rope around your neck for a few minutes and see how the fuck you like being reminded of almost dying!”

Both of them wince, drawing back from your outrage, which only makes you want to advance.

“H-honey,” Steve stutters beside you, half scolding and half terrified as he tries to put on a brave face. “It was just a joke.”

You turn your wild eyes back on him, body still reeling in fight or flight mode, as you realize his hands are trembling and the wetness to his eyes isn't from the pool at all. While you could easily continue to scream at them (which, when you're in a rational headspace again, you will feel guilty for), you focus in on Steve.

“Come on, let's go get you dried off, okay?” You offer much quieter, hovering close to him to try to keep you both grounded. He gives another shaky nod and lets you lead him over to the steps and out of the pool.

No one in the group says a word as you wrap him in a towel and then drape one over your own shoulders before sitting both of you down on one of the deck chairs. He continues to tremble slightly beside you as you tuck yourself tightly to his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you try to comfort him (and yourself).

We’re safe here. We’re okay. We’re going to be fine.

Everyone else watches silently as your paperback continues to collect water until it sinks down to the bottom of the deep end.

It was a good day. Until it wasn't.

-

-

-

[alastorswifee]

༆ 𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓮!𝓛𝓵𝓸𝔂𝓭 𝓐𝓤

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd being so nervous when he first started dating you, he’s so used to people not wanting to be around him due to his father’s bad reputation

The only people he’s interacted comfortably with are the other ninja but that’s only in a best friend/sibling aspect

When Nya found out about Lloyd’s feelings for you, she encouraged him to be himself and make his move before someone else does

It took the green ninja a good few days before he built up the courage to do it but here he was

He showed up to your locker one morning and told you that you looked really pretty, one thing led to another and that led to you two eating lunch together

Then it became an everyday habit, him always greeting you by the lockers then planning to have lunch together

Soon his confidence got a bit higher than in the beginning but that’s only because he’s gotten to know the kind of person you are and he got comfortable around you

Soon enough he planned a way to ask you out and to his relief and surprise, you said yes

Now you two are a cute little couple

༆Boyfriend!Lloyd bringing you flowers(if you’re allergic then he’ll bring fake/plastic flowers) every week or two as one of his ways of showing you affection

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd walking you to all your classes no matter what you say, he always insists that it’s no trouble at all

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd always aiming to kiss your cheek or forehead because he’s too shy to kiss you on your lips at first

He eventually mans up one day tho don’t worry, with some encouragement from the group

He was hanging out with you after school and as usual, he walked you home to make sure you’re safe. This time tho, instead of kissing your cheek before you head inside, he cupped your cheek which made you look at him with curiosity.

He’d slowly lean down and whisper “can I kiss you?..”

How could you say no?

That’s how you two had your first kiss

Ever since then, he would always want to kiss you, not in overly public places tho because he can get a bit shy with pda

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd introducing you to Koko a month or two into the relationship, he figured that if he’s going to do something as big as dating he might as well let his mother know

She’s thrilled to hear that a girl loves and cares about her son, she invites you to have dinner with them some day and gave you the privilege of getting to call her mum(only if you’re comfortable ofc)

The other Ninja obviously know about you but haven’t properly met you yet. When they did, some of them did the overprotective friend act at first to jokingly scare you but they warmed up to you pretty quickly when they saw how happy you made Lloyd.

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd would invite you to stay the night on weekends if you’re allowed to and if his mum says yes which she most likely will allow

Those little sleepovers will consist of lots of cuddles and kisses

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd has a secret love for baking, from time to time he’ll bake you some sweets such as cupcakes, donuts, macaroons, cookies and more

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd is a very understanding and caring person, if anything’s going on please tell him. The poor baby will get worried sick if you’re being distant or any of your behavior changes

If you need space or time then tell him because worrying him isn’t the best decision

Communication is a huge thing for him, if you can’t tell him what’s going on then it will cause a huge problem because he’ll start worrying and stressing as well as overthinking.

If you’re alright with him helping you through whatever is bothering you, he’ll do everything in his power to try and help you get better and support you.

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd stays up late on some nights because you’re on his mind so that results in him making you playlists with songs that remind him of you or with your music taste

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd being pouty whenever you don’t give him a kiss or you tease him affection wise, he’ll follow you around like a lost puppy until you give him a kiss or anything

༆Boyfriend!Lloyd going on patrol sometimes at night as the green ninja and uses that as an excuse to drop by your bedroom balcony to say hi

Sometimes if you’re okay with it he takes you on nighttime rides in his dragon mech

He’ll show you all the beautiful city lights from a brand new perspective and view. The look of happiness and wonder in your eyes making him fall in love with you all over again

༆ Boyfriend!Lloyd and you relaxing in his mech as he had let it sit ontop one of the tallest buildings in ninjago city.

You both talk about your future while stargazing, Lloyd honestly didn’t think he’d find someone such as yourself but here you are proving him wrong.

He doesn’t wanna get older without your head on his shoulder.

He wishes time could move slower when he’s with you, he cherishes every living second he has with you.

He knows you’re the person he wants to grow old with and be with forever.

And if reincarnation exists..

He hopes to find you in every lifetime.

~

@kitomon eat this while I try to get rid of writers block

[tenaciousbouquetearthquake]

The things you'll do for a cup of coffee

Or, The continuing adventures of Reacher and his coffee addict girlfriend.

Find it on ao3 | Story Masterlist | My Masterlist (of masterlists)

A story where you seduce Reacher for the last cup of coffee, but it doesn't quite go as you'd planned. Around 4100 words of a lot of dirty talk, hand jobs, referenced vaginal sex, finger sucking, mild dom!Reacher because in my head that dude really enjoys giving orders, mild sub!reader with a little bit of a praise kink toward the end, and Reacher taking advantage of good situation when it presents itself. But really, who can blame him? The things you'll do for a cup of coffee. Jack Reacher can call me a good girl any time he wants to.

“Out of coffee?” You can hear the way your voice squeaks, how much you sound like a spoiled child. You can hear it and somewhere deep inside of you, you cringe—just a little. But the thing is, you don’t care. “How can they be out of coffee?”

Reacher glances back at you from where he’s setting down a bag of goodies on the dresser, everything you need for a decent enough breakfast on the road except a morning shot of caffeine. “How can you be out of coffee?” You can hear the humor and sarcasm in his voice. Reacher has never exactly been supportive of your caffeine addiction, although he does seem to derive a great amount of entertainment from it sometimes.

“This isn’t funny, Reacher,” you warn him, crossing your arms over your chest. It’s too early for you to be awake. You practically had to pry your eyes open this morning and actually whined at the prospect of having to get out of bed. It took Reacher physically shoving you off the mattress—with some encouragement from you, it should be noted—to get you up and taking a shower so that the two of you wouldn’t miss the bus out of town. “I need my coffee. We both know how badly I need my coffee. We both know what happens when I don’t get my coffee.”

Reacher makes a noise, tilts his head as if in thought, and begins to pull things out of the plastic bag from the store to set out on the dress. Croissants. A donut. Some kind of breakfast pastry with bacon that smells divine and makes your mouth water. A pudding cup. A pudding cup. Your eyes zero in on it, staring for a long, long moment.

Pudding.

But no coffee.

“Maybe you should take this as a sign that it’s time to finally cut back,” Reacher suggests. He finishes setting out the haul of goodies he brought back to the hotel room for breakfast and slowly turns around to face you, holding a nice, steaming cup of something in a to go cup. He takes a long, leisurely sip of it as you stare at him open-mouthed, eyes wide.

“What,” you practically growl, “is that?”

Reacher doesn’t react very quickly, apparently unconcerned by the tone of your voice and your desperation for a caffeine fix. He enjoys a long sip of his drink, smacking his lips in delight at the flavor, and lord help you, your focus gets sidetracked again for a single instant to watch his tongue move over his lips—perfect, soft, delicious lips that have coffee on them. You’ve never wanted to suck at lips so badly in your life. “Oh, this?” Reacher looks between you and the cup with a hint of a smile that’s infuriating and delicious at the same time. “Cup of coffee.”

Your eyes narrow. Reacher’s lips twitch again, quirking up into a small smirk on one side. “You said they were out of coffee.”

“I said they are out of coffee,” Reacher corrects you. “This is the last cup.” He takes another long, leisurely sip as you watch him, thoroughly unconcerned by the murderous look you’re giving him.

You may love Reacher with everything you have, but nobody gets between you and your morning fix.

Nobody.

“So, you just—just—” You struggle for the right words, gesturing toward the cup, fixated on it like it’s the answer to all your problems, like it could solve world hunger and end climate change and bring peace to the entire world in just one sip. Because maybe that’s the problem, you know. Maybe people just aren’t getting their coffee fix, so they get grouchy and mean. Like you will be very fucking soon. “You—you’re not even going to share?”

“You wouldn’t like it,” Reacher tells you then, having the audacity to slurp when he takes another drink. To slurp, you think, at this time of the morning.

“It’s coffee,” you insist. “How could I not like it?”

A shrug. “No cream. No sugar.” His mouth pulls down in distaste. “None of that pumpkin syrup you always order.”

“I don’t always order it. It’s seasonal.” A pause. “Fine, I do always order it, but they only give it to me a few months out of the year.” You scowl as he takes another sip. “Look, I don’t care if it’s black. I just need coffee and I need it now.”

To your surprise, Reacher doesn’t budge. He takes another drink, letting out one of those low, glorious hums of satisfaction that always makes your toes curl and your heart race a little. Then shakes his head. “Sorry. This one’s mine.” He turns his back on you and looks down at the food, reaching for the thing with the bacon and managing to casually unwrap it with one hand while he still holds his cup of coffee in the other.

Your first thought is to fight him for it. His back is turned. He can’t see what you’re doing. You have the advantage in this situation. You have just enough motivation and nothing to lose because you have no coffee, dammit, and you need some. You can take him!

And then you remember that it’s Reacher and that you saw him take out five thugs who were bothering you at a diner a few days ago with practically one swing of those meaty, corded arms of his.

Then you decide to take a different approach.

If you can’t fight him… “You know,” you drawl, trying and failing to keep the edge of desperation out of your voice. You pace forward, until you’re right behind Reacher, and move to wrap your arms around his waist and press your body against his back. “If you decided to give me the coffee…” You bury your face against his back, taking a lazy breath through his shirt that smells faintly of cheap laundry detergent and Reacher. Your hands tease at the waistband of his jeans, slipping easily under the hem of his t-shirt to skim fingertips over his warm skin. You push yourself up on your toes enough to lean near his ear. “I could make it worth your while.”

You’re not proud of this, but you’ll absolutely seduce Reacher for coffee.

You’d probably be trying to tear his clothes off of him, anyway, just as soon as you’d finished your morning cup.

Reacher pauses where he’s about to take a bite of the pastry, hands stilling at the way your fingertips are grazing over his waist and hips in slow, measured movements. Your fingers reach near the button of his jeans and catch on the fabric a little. “What did you have in mind?” His voice is low and gravelly when he speaks, his head turning slightly toward you.

“Well…” You press your body against him fully, letting him feel every little detail—every curve molded against him. You’re suddenly grateful that you haven’t figured out what happened to your bra the night before. You were planning to tear the room apart for it after you’d had your coffee, but now… You maneuver the button of his jeans open and make quick work of the zipper, letting your hand freely explore the material of his boxers and the bulge hidden beneath them. It’s satisfying, so satisfying, when you feel him tense against you, his back ramrod straight, even as you hear him let out a heavy breath while your hand moves over his cock. “I could…help you out of these…” Your fingers ghost over the bulge—a bulge that gets impossibly harder under your touch—and follow the waistband over the vee of his hips, all hard lines and intense muscle definition. “And I’d push you back on this bed behind me.” A long, leisurely move over the waistband before gradually beginning to slip underneath.

Reacher takes dangerously slow, steady breaths. He hums. “I’m listening.”

You need that coffee.

You really need that coffee.

But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying this. You press your face to his shoulder, letting him feel your warm, damp breath through the material of his shirt. Your hand moves lower, lower, teasing at the base of his cock. “I would touch you like this.” You let him feel your hand on him, feel it close around him as he makes a low moan that’s almost a growl. You pull away long enough to maneuver the boxers so that you have full access to his cock, to the long, thick length of him, hard and ready in the cool air of the hotel room. “I would play with your cock.” A stroke of your fingertips on the underside of him, from the tip to the base, trailing over sensitive skin. “And your balls.” His body tenses sharply against you, his hand beginning to squeeze the bacon filled pastry like a vice. You ghost a touch over his balls before cupping them with your palm, petting and stroking him. He makes another low moan, any trace of a smirk or amusement gone from his face. You wish you were taller, tall enough to lick and nip at his ear while you stand behind him like this and touch him. “I would explore every inch of you.” Your hand begins to move over him again, a gentle closing of your palm around his cock in one carefully measured stroke. Then another one, tighter, gradually working downward and back up as his body physically moves with it, rocking forward and back with you. “With my hands.” Another stroke. The pastry has been completely squished in his big hand. The cup of coffee is quivering.

You lick your lips, let your mouth sound wet with saliva as you say, “And then I would take you in my mouth.” Another stroke. Harder. Reacher makes a deep, throaty sound that rumbles against you, moving from his low in body up to his mouth as it falls open a little. You moan against his back, letting him feel the sound, half-muffled but filled with lust, the sort of sound you would make while taking his cock in your mouth. “And I would taste you.” Another stroke. You would swear he’s harder, that the giant that is Jack Reacher somehow becomes impossibly more with each passing second as you touch him. “And I would make sure to take every inch…” Your grip gets a little tighter. The coffee cup trembles in his hand. You should be concerned for it—you really want that coffee, after all—but you’re getting too caught up in it now. “Of this beautiful…” Reacher’s hand with the pastry moves to the dresser for support, palm falling open, his breakfast forgotten. You have to shift a little to keep your hand in position, craning your body so that your face rests on the outside of his arm now and you can look up at his face to watch him perfectly as his heated gaze turns to meet yours. “Delicious…” The coffee is on the dresser now. The look on Reacher’s face is impossible to miss, pupils blown, nostrils flared, jaw tense. All lust and desire. “Cock of yours.”

He moans, another one of those low, rumbling moans. It vibrates against your chest. His breath comes out in hot waves against your face, eyes trained entirely on you. “And?” He practically growls it out, the sound almost feral. Your nipples pebble through your shirt, brushing against his arm, a sharp thrill that makes you clench your thighs as heat pools there at the way he’s looking at you, the way you’re touching him, the scenario you’re painting for him.

Even you are beginning to forget about the cup of coffee a little bit.

“When I’m good and ready…” Another stroke, harder, slower, deliberately drawing it out so that Reacher’s open palms begin to clench, his fingernails digging into the top of the dresser. You’re good and ready right fucking now. “And I think you’ve had enough…” It’s hard to decide what you like more—the way you’re touching him, the way he’s reacting to you, or the way he’s looking at you now, as if the only thing in the world that matters is the next word out of your mouth, the shape of your lips as you form the sounds. “I would take off my shirt and panties…” His gaze leaves your mouth for only a second, flashing down to shape of your breasts through the t-shirt, nipples hard and pointed through the thin material. A new kind of warmth washes over you, cheeks burning, breasts aching to be touched. “And I would climb on top of you.” His breathing is getting ragged, hips following the motion of your hand, the muscles in his arms taut. Your panties feel damp between your thighs, cunt clenching around nothing at the mere thought of having Reacher inside of you. You move your hand a little more quickly, intentionally making it harder for him to maintain his control. “And I slowly take this cock inside of me…” His knuckles are white from clenching. His eyes drift closed for a moment, either imagining it or too caught up in what you’re doing not to. You want to draw it out, to make it torturous for him, just to watch him get lost in the sensation like that. “And I would ride your hard…” Another stroke, harder, faster, forcing him closer and closer to the edge. “Beautiful cock…”

“Y/N,” Reacher moans, and damned if the sound isn’t like an aphrodisiac, like the most erotic thing you’ve heard in your entire life. Your name on his lips, the way it rolls off his tongue, a rough sound that scrapes over your skin and leaves goosebumps behind. You don’t let up, moving faster now, rough, pressing your body against his, desperate for the contact.

“I would ride you slowly,” you murmur, rubbing your thighs against each other at the sudden need in your cunt, your panties soaked with your own arousal. You can feel him starting to tremble a little, his jaw clenching. Every part of him is tight—so very tight. “And grind you deep inside of me.” Your cunt is beginning to fucking throb for stimulation at the imaginary. “And after I make sure that you’re watching everything I do…” It’s getting to the point where it’s taking all of your focus just to keep the story going and not try to follow through it. “I would start touching myself while you watch me.” Your free hand opens and closes reflexively, your nipples aching for you do just that. “I would play with my breasts and my nipples for you.” Reacher’s gaze leaves your face now, fixed on the images you’re giving to him, settling on where you’re leaning against him and he can feel your nipples through your shirt. “And I would play with my clit while I ride your beautiful cock…” Reacher’s panting now, desperate. “And use you to get myself off.” A moan.

You lick your lips, swallowing against a dry throat, forcing yourself to stay focused. “I would watch you watching me.”

“Y/N.” There’s nothing as beautiful as the sound of Reacher’s voice on the edge of orgasm, the way your name is both a plea for mercy and a prayer for satisfaction. The way you know just how to play with him, touch him, tease him, to drive him so crazy.

“And after I’ve used you as much as I want to,” you pause to let your mouth rest against his arm again, open and hot and wet through his shirt, letting him feel your teeth and your tongue there. “I’ll let you cum inside of me…” You’d swear your cunt is so damp that it’s fucking dripping down your thighs.

“Y/N.”

You don’t stop touching him. God, but you couldn’t stop now if you wanted to. You love the look of him, the way he sounds so breathy and feral, the way he feels in your hand, the way your body is just throbbing for him now. You want to taste him, to ride him, to use him exactly as you’re describing for him.

“And then I would reach down and touch my hot, wet cunt that’s filled with your cum…” Minutes now, you think. Seconds. Jack Reacher may be one tough motherfucker, but right now, he’s at your mercy—and you’re both loving every second of it. “I would touch myself and get it all over my fingers…”

“Fuck, Y/N.”

“And I would lick them clean while you watch.”

It’s a bit anticlimactic when it happens—his fingers scraping over the dresser, hips jutting forward into your hand, the sound of him moaning, moaning, saying your name. Y/N. Y/N. Your hand covered in his seed, hot and sticky. Reacher’s face settling in your neck, his mouth open and panting against you. Y/N. And you—you’re still not satisfied. You started this little game, but you didn’t realize how much it would affect you, too.

Maybe it’s because you still haven’t had your coffee…but, you think with a small feeling of triumph, you will soon.

You wait until Reacher has gotten himself back under control enough to recognize what you’re doing. When those dark brown eyes are settled back on you, you pull your hand away from his cock and hold his gaze as you begin to lap at it with your tongue, licking at every drop of cum there, closing your mouth around your fingers and letting him watch you suck them clean while you moan. You run your tongue over your lips and make sure you don’t miss any, swallowing his spend.

You’re so fucking horny that if you don’t get that coffee soon and then get yourself off, Reacher’s not going to be the only feral person in this room.

“Now, Reacher,” you purr, lips and fingers glistening. You press your overheated, sensitive body against his, acutely aware of his cock still out and of the empty feeling in your cunt. “Don’t you want to give me that cup of coffee?”

Reacher looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s thoroughly entranced by the sight of you. It takes a lot for him to find his voice—which, you have to admit, is its own kind of satisfaction.

“You really won’t like it,” Reacher says with a shake of his head, his voice sounding worn and ragged. You let your fingers linger near your mouth, brushing your lips, trying to keep his gaze there and his mind on what just happened, on the fantasy you painted for him.

“This is me we’re talking about, Reacher,” you tell him sweetly, coyly. “When do I ever not like coffee?”

A quirk of his lips into a smirk. A hint of a laugh. “It’s decaf.”

The moment comes to an abrupt and infuriating halt—except for the desperate aching in your cunt, that is. That’s still there and completely unsatisfied, because of course it is.

Of course the coffee is decaf.

There’s a fraction of a second where you wonder if caffeine withdrawal can be used as a defense for justifiable homicide.

Then you’re pulling away with Reacher with a scowl on your face while the bastard chuckles and turns around to follow you, tucking his cock away and putting his jeans to rights as he does. “Oh, come on, Y/N.”

“I’ll deal with you later.” You’re too pissed right now to face him. He reaches out to grab a hold of you and drag you back against him. Faintly, you can feel the bulge of his cock pressing into you and your body reacts—your body reacts.

“Come on, Y/N,” Reacher pleads, wrapping his arms around you to keep you against him. He leans down to press his face near yours, his mouth at your cheek. “I know you’re mad. I’ll get you some coffee.”

“You better,” you mutter. Reacher barks out another laugh, low and delicious, and you don’t want it to affect you, but the sound of it is good. So fucking good. His arms around you are so, so good. His cock pressing against you, his chest at your back, his face next to yours.

“I will,” Reacher promises. Then, “But first…”

“First what?” You snap at him, no longer rational. Way past rational. What kind of town is this to fucking run out of fucking coffee???

“First,” Reacher purrs, and oh…oh. You feel it at your core. You feel it in the aching of your cunt, in your nipples so hard that they fucking hurt. “I think you should let me take care of this.” A big palm closes over your cunt possessively, the panties soaked. He grinds his palm against your swollen clit, lets his fingers play at your slit through the soaked cloth, burying some of it inside of you as he probes you through the panties. You can’t help the way you fall against him, your thighs clenching around his hand to keep it there, the heat now overwhelming. You let out a moan and this time it’s not one that you’re faking to get Reacher off.

This time, it’s real.

“Fuck you.” There’s no resolve in your words at all. No anger or frustration. Nothing except a whimper.

“How about…” He makes that purring sound again, his big body towering around you, his meaty palm covering your whole cunt as if it wasn’t yours at all, but his. “I push you back on this bed and take this shirt and these…” He grinds his palm against your drenched panties, your stomach fluttering when he presses against your clit. “…right off of you, and then I use this drippy little cunt of yours…” Another grind of his palm, not that he has to. Your body is rebelling against you at this point, ready to agree to anything he asks. “…until I’ve fucked and tasted it and made you cum so many times that you’re begging me to stop.” He strokes long, thick fingers over your slit through your panties. “And then I’ll get you coffee. How does that sound, Y/N?”

Your mind feels fuzzy, dazed, your body is feverish. You want to say no. You want the coffee right damn now, that’s the whole point. You need a fucking caffeine fix, dammit.

You open your mouth to argue, but a moan slips out inside. Reacher chuckles in your ear, your body trembling with the vibration. “It sounds to me like you’re saying yes, Y/N.” He pushes aside the crotch of your panties and those long, thick fingers move over you, stroking, before burying inside of you. His other hand comes up to cup your breast through your t-shirt, cupping it and molding it there before his fingers find the nipple and he strokes it gingerly, your whole body jumping back against him in response. Then he pinches it hard and you whimper, and you know that you’re done for.

Maybe the coffee really will have to wait, after all.

Reacher is pulling his fingers from your cunt, his hand at your breast and nipple relentless. He moves the hand from your cunt up into your view so you can see the wet digits, see your juices there, and then brings it slowly to his mouth while you watch. His tongue laps at the taste of you on one of his fingers. He moans, holding your gaze. “Such a wet little cunt.” A smirk, beautiful and predatory and indecent. “Do you want to taste it, Y/N?” He brings his hand to your mouth, strokes his wet fingers that smell like your cunt over your bottom lip, pinching your nipple so that your body shivers and clenches as you take slow, ragged breaths. “Open your mouth for me, Y/N.” It’s an order—an order from Major Jack Reacher. An order from your boyfriend.

An order that your body is obeying without any conscience input from you.

“Good girl.” Reacher smirks at you, playing with your bottom lip for a long moment before pushing his fingers inside of your mouth and stroking the taste of yourself over your tongue. “Such a good girl.”

As it happens, the two of you don’t make it out for coffee for the rest of the day. You have to take the next bus out of town. Sometime later, in a haze of pleasure, as your body is exhausted and you’re drifting off to sleep, you hear Reacher—fucking Jack Reacher, who’s not even remotely exhausted—laugh and murmur, “The things you’ll do for a cup of coffee.

___

Any fellow caffeine lovers out there, what would YOU do with Reacher for a cup of coffee? Lots of things. I would do lots of things.

[noroi1000]

Ooh requests are open imma send u the lil idea I had in my head but not had the time to get to writing it. Schl sucks I agree it's not fun, hoping you survive it somehow tho

May I request a Gojo x reader where the reader likes sweets so they buy sweets, put them in the fridge and promptly forget all about it until they see the wrapper in the bin/want to eat and realise there's only one left so they demand to know why Gojo has been stealing all their sweets? Thanks!!

A fridge full of sweets

Summary: You both love sweets. You bought a whole fridge full of sweet delicacies for you. But you didn't manage to eat it because you always had other plans. You remembered about these sweets when you saw empty packages in the trash. Satoru ate everything...

The shelves that had so much colorful packaging on them looked like they were starting to shine for no reason.

Pink, yellow, red, blue, green packaging and all these. As if a real rainbow appeared in the store. A rainbow that fulfills wishes!

You've been craving sweets so much since the morning. That's why whenever you went to the store to do some basic shopping, your eyes didn't miss the shelf with sweets.

Cookies, jellies, candies, cake in plastic containers, muffins, donuts. Everything seemed to be looking at you and your soul was already strengthening at the mere sight of these delicious good things.

You had Satoru's money with you. And he will never be mad at you if you spend his money on sweets since for him this is the basis of his diet!

He even adds ice cream to Sake when he needs to drink it, but he doesn't like it so much that he adds vanilla ice cream to it to eliminate the bitter taste of the alcohol! At alcoholic parties he drinks melon soda, cola or orangeade!

You have a cupboard in your kitchen especially for sweets!

He bought you bubblegum and pudding flavored lip gloss because he wanted to feel sweet while kissing you!

You both like sweets. You love these sweet flavors that melt in your mouth!

After a few seconds of contemplation, your hands shot out to the colorful packages and you started choosing everything you wanted.

Everything you wanted to take could have been in the fridge. You want refreshing sweets today.

Citrus jellies, mochi, ice cream.

But you couldn't give up marshmallows, Pocky, chocolate bars and those adorable teddy bear cookies. Soft cake, cream and jams... These teddy bears are the ones Satoru likes. But you also like them because they have different flavors.

Later, you were completely ready, going to the bakery to buy muffins with various creams and cake.

You came home with bags containing mainly sweets.

And you looked at the fridge, stuffed to the brim and shiny with delicious-looking things.

Taking one cat-shaped cupcake with sprinkles in the shape of little cats, you closed the fridge to stop yourself from eating it all at once.

If you want to have a beautiful evening, you can eat sweets together.

The strangest thing was that your boyfriend didn't open the fridge right away when he came home.

He came into the house, greeted you, changed into his home clothes and started taking warm food out of his bag.

He came back from town bringing you your favorite food.

He really spoils you. He feeds you with the amount of food he eats. And he could eat all day long. Continuously. And he forces just as much food into you, even though his size outweighs yours. That's why you think he might have a bigger stomach too.

No... He has a black hole in his stomach. Everything he eats disappears as if it never happened and he can continue eating everything.

He clung to you on the couch.

And the next day he took you out to dinner in the city.

Then it happened again that you weren't at home.

The fridge overflowing with sweets hasn't been opened and you haven't eaten any of it yet. Fortunately, there was nothing that deteriorated very quickly.

But one day when he came home late, you were already asleep, waiting for him in bed.

But knowing this Gojo Satoru, he was hungry after working all day as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

That's why his hands reached for the fridge. And his eyes lit up when he saw the amount of sweets.

The smile on his face when he thought that you surprised him and bought all these sweets for him as a gift.

Maybe tomorrow morning he will play with you to thank you for these delicacies?

Your warm arms can wait. For now, he has to eat everything you bought!

All his bites are big. While eating one thing, he only thought about eating the next one. So he ate everything in order. All packages were open. The sour jelly sugar coated his fingers as he licked the cream from his lips after eating the last cupcake.

Long fingers landed on his tongue as he scooped up the sweet and sour delight of the jelly beans.

Will he be able to sleep after all the sugar he has consumed? After coffee bars?

This is Satoru! Someone who has been eating sweets for so long that they have become addicted to it! Someone for whom sugar is not difficult! He can gorge himself and half an hour later he will be hungry again!

You may have already gotten used to your personal hunger at home.

Luckily he can have millions of yen for food!

The empty wrappers of all the treats were thrown into the trash can when he finished eating. And he didn't even want to go brush his teeth to hide all the traces.

They were sweets for him from you, weren't they?

But no one else could eat it except him and you. You two live together.

You felt the bed sink next to you and he climbed into your arms, giving you a kiss on the lips.

Why did you feel the taste of chocolate and cream on his lips, but the inside of his mouth tasted like citrus jelly beans?

You were so sleepy that you ignored it and went back to sleep. After all, you always felt more comfortable sleeping in his arms. You slept better.

But you slept too well. That's why you needed to wake up first thing in the morning. Sweet coffee and coffee bars... It was your dream.

You remembered that you put this package on the last shelf in the fridge.

You took the cups and prepared the milk and sugar.

While the coffee machine was pouring delicious fresh coffee into your favorite mugs, you walked over to the fridge.

Rubbing your eye, you blindly reached for your bars. To not find it.

You opened your eyes to look for it.

And you saw an empty fridge that was already full yesterday!

There were empty fancy packages in the trash can.

There isn't a single candy bar...

Only a package of peanut candies left...

Clenching your jaw, you walked to the bedroom, knowing who the culprit was.

That's why his mouth tasted like citrus jelly beans and chocolate!

He ate it all!

All your sweets!

Even kitty cupcakes and teddy bear cookies!

You saw a white-haired giant stick insect who was too muscular to be a stick insect lying in bed with his belly bare because of his shirt that had rolled up.

You bluntly threw the cold wrapper of peanut candy onto his half-bare chest.

He jumped up from the sudden impact and cold and looked at you like he was having a sudden panic attack.

If you poured ice water on him, he would look even better! It was revenge!

"Mochi? What?" He exclaimed, looking at your furrowed brows.

"Why are you stealing our sweets?! You ate everything!!" you shouted, your hands clenched.

"Baby baby! I was hungry! But since the fridge was full, you bought it for me, right?"

"I bought this for us a few days ago! But you ate it all!"

He quickly stood up, placing his hands on your cheeks as you looked at him like a disappointed child.

He fed his adorable baby (you) with pancakes that he made.

Two towers of pancakes for you. And as a punishment, not one for him.

[delopsia]

del pls i am DRUNK and i would like to know your interpretation of how bobby and/or rhett would take care of reader..

i was at a work party and they had bowling and free drinks so everyone who wasn't driving was kind of getting lost in the sauce and the only reason there aren't typos is because i am using auto correct

i just want bobby or rhett to take care of me :(((

I assume we're talking about how they would care for a drunk Reader t.t I apologize if I interpreted this wrong, lmao. I've been doing that a lot lately.

Bobby is one swift breeze away from wrapping you in several layers of bubble wrap. He thought he was keeping a good track of how many drinks you'd had over the night, but at some point, you got three of the same thing, and he misread it as you taking forever to finish one drink. So now here you are, drunk, on his watch, and it's got him a little frazzled. How did you slip under his radar? He was next to you this whole time!

You don't actually remember how he got you out into the car, but at some point, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat, being fed little pieces of food from your favorite fast food joint. The privilege of choosing the size of your own bites was revoked when you choked; it's Bobby and his plastic knife against the world.

He doesn't let you out of the car until he's made his way to the other side, curling an arm around your waist and walking you to the door. Tripping and falling? Not on his watch. Absolutely not. Hell, you can't do anything by yourself. Even when you wake up in the morning, he refuses to leave you alone while he feeds you a few painkillers for your migraine.

Bobby doesn't drink these days, but he certainly remembers what it was like to wake up with a hangover. He's got the curtains drawn shut to avoid letting the sunlight worsen your headache, speaking in quiet, hushed tones. Do you want him to go get you anything? Food? A new plush? One of his blankets? How about some snuggles in bed? Whatever you want, he'll go and get it for you 🌼

Rhett is...uniquely helpful? He's had his fair share of drunk nights and vicious hangovers; it's happened so many times that he's memorized all the things that help ease the pain of waking up the next morning. To be fair, it was partially his fault that you had too many; he tends to forget that not everyone has an alcohol tolerance like he does. What you don't realize is that three drinks ago, he started filling your cup with water.

All the restaurants in Wabang close before ten, but there are plenty of gas stations with a sort of 24/7 food situation. Not the healthiest, but it's quick enough for Rhett to feel okay with leaving you in his truck while he runs inside to get you a few snacks. Gatorade, something fried, french fries, chips, and at least one kind of mini donut. It doesn't matter to him if you don't finish anything; the whole idea was to get something in your belly.

Rhett's funny in where, he's not in a huge rush to get you home and in bed. He'll take you on a slow drive around town or through the field to see the cattle to give you some time to gather your bearings before he tries helping you out of the passenger seat. It always starts with him trying to help you walk, and without fail, ends in him carrying you into the house. All it takes is for you to trip one(1) time, and you lose all walking privileges.

To be fair, he does try to get you to bathe before letting you fall aslepe, but it's entirely hit and miss. Sometimes you knock out on the couch while he's running the water, others, you nod off in the bath. Very rarely does he manage to keep you awake long enough to see the bed. You can't help it; he's muttering to you in those low, hushed tones, stroking the back of your neck, and it's just so hard to keep your eyes open any longer.

Very rarely do you wake up with anything more than a mild headache come morning. It's the cowboy effect 💐

With them together, you've practically got no hope of being left alone once your head begins to spin. Where Rhett easily notices when you get a new drink, Bob's got a better idea of when to step in. It's a little harder to trick you into drinking your water, so Rhett will do this funny thing where he'll order you something, drink half of it, and fill it with water. No, they don't know why it tastes bland all of a sudden. That must be a sign that you've had too many.

The best part of all this is when Bob gets forced into the middle seat. You're guaranteed to have the passenger seat because, in the event you get sick, you can just open the door.

Problem: Bob doesn't know how to act when he's in the middle.

His legs are awkwardly split, one on your side and one on Rhett's. Bringing them in would put them uncomfortably high up, but spreading them further would get in the way of Rhett and the pedals. His shoulders keep bumping into you, and this flimsy seat belt over his lap feels like it'll snap if Rhett hits the brakes too hard. He's so stiff that you can steal his glasses, and he won't kick up a fuss. It's free amusement, to say the least.

Coming home is practically the same. Rhett handles getting you in the bath, Bobby fusses over getting water in your system, and feeds you little pieces of your snacks. You're lucky if your feet touch the ground more than twice the entire night.

Please be prepared for dramatic re-enactments of your antics come morning.

[baddiewiththebook]

ONE OF THEM [PART 4]

-> Dating your best friend Eddie Munson might have been pictured differently in your head. Despite a blissful weekend, you’re met with a few bumps in the road; and, your friends slowly figure out that what you're doing in private crosses the boundaries between friend and lover.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, secret relationship, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive scenes [no smut]

[Part 4] [Part 5 - Coming Soon]

This is a sequel to One of the Boys

-> <-

“Do you think he has plans for that asparagus, or does he just need a friend?” Eddie’s head is tilted just to the right, while he studies the man across the aisles.

You plop five plump potato’s into a plastic sack provided by the grocery store, and hum a soft tune to yourself. Ignoring Eddie, you take the sack and drop it down onto the metal scale to imagine the price point.

When you move, however, Eddie is frozen in time. His eyes move past the displays of fresh lemons and limes, and over the apples and pears. A man is scratching his finger over the Saran Wrap tucking a set of asparagus in a tight film. Peering through Coke bottle glasses, he pouts his bottom lip and then puts the produce back.

“You’ve been watching him for a while?” You try to sound less irritated than you are. Shopping with Eddie got easier once you asked him to push the cart. In a way, this tethered him to you because he kept his hands busy and off of the shelves where he insisted on touching everything.

Eddie doesn’t mean any harm, after all he is just looking. Suppose he looks for a bit too long and he’s a bit distracted, then you’ll correct him with a sour sort of ‘come on, Eddie,’ like his uncle Wayne does sometimes. But, his uncle never buys fresh potatoes. Eddie has got no idea what you’ll do with those. When you told him you wanted to make dinner for him tonight, he thought the box of mashed potatoes was fine enough and the steaks in the back of the freezer had only been there a few months - or a year. Who can tell the difference?

You surely can.

When you suggested that he come with you to go to the grocery store, he saw the glee on your face. He can’t say no to you.

There’s something soft about the way you’re touching everything on purpose. You studied those potatoes like the man did with his asparagus, but when you got a little pouty, Eddie’s heart fluttered in his chest.

You’ve got one hand on the cart, so to him you feel connected even if you’re not holding onto each other. Guiding him in the right direction down the isle, he'll never get lost as long as you're there with him.

Eddie is damn near snoozing by the end of the laundry list of grocery items. There is only six, but that's six too many. You offer to buy him something sweet in exchange for his patience with you.

“Did you want to go to the little bakery? They’ve probably got chocolate cake or cookies,” you wiggle at the end of the cart.

Eddie straightens his back at this.

“Sure, but no chocolate,” he shakes his head. “I don’t like that stuff.”

“You don’t like chocolate,” you’re more taken aback than he imagined you might be. “But, what about the chocolate cake I made you for your birthday two years ago, and the cupcakes I made for your birthday this year! You said they were the best. I even kept the recipe!”

“Sweetheart,” he catches up to you, so he can wrap an arm around your shoulders. “How could I possibly tell you that I didn’t like chocolate when you’d spend all day baking for me? Hm? I really did appreciate the gesture. You know- among the thick layers of goo- oof!”

You’ve elbowed him in the side. Rightfully so! Smiling into the case of donuts, you make a beeline for the grinning worker behind the counter.

“Can I get a loaf of- erm, that one,” you’re not sure how to pronounce the name.

Eddie’s gone when you spin around with your bread loaf. Eyeing the treats, he aims for a small cherry pie. He pulls his hand back and shakes his head. Your boyfriend flicks his hair behind his ears because as much as he likes his hair, he does get hot sometimes. Boyfriend.

Eddie Munson is your boyfriend.

Have you said that out loud yet?

“The bread,” you announce like he’s memorized dinner plans.

Eddie shocks you, “steak next, right?”

Aisles of produce pass you by like time ticking on a clock. You’ve gotten everything on your list by now that Eddie clutches in your hand. Time wastes on because you don’t want to go home quite yet. You’re in control of the cart, and Eddie’s bounding between aisles to show you something ‘cool’ he’s found.

The cart slowly is taken over by snacks you haven’t planned to spend money on, but you do anyway because Eddie’s joy means more to you than a dollar.

Eddie pops a rope candy in his mouth, while you organize the cashier belt in line.

“Don’t forget the bags,” Eddie pulls some plastic bags from the bottom of the cart that you keep in your house. You reuse them as long as possible, and Eddie finds this endearing.

“Thanks,” you put them in the front of the groceries already stacked on the belt.

Eddie tosses a wrapped piece of chocolate onto the belt you hadn’t seen him grab from the shelves.

“I thought of you,” he taps the wrapper, before the belt sweeps the sweet away. “It’s got caramel. Your favorite, right?”

"It is," you sigh completely defeated that he knows more about you than you about him.

"My favorite is cherry," he swings the licorice in the air.

“Sir,” the cashier’s lips thin. “You’re paying for that, right?”

Eddie’s chewed through the whole package of candy by now, and humorously he’d like to imply that he’s not. But with you in mind, he hands the woman the wrapper without fuss. You wrap onto his arm like a child, and he places another kiss to the top of your head.

You’re paying for the grocery run today, but Eddie promises that the next time you’re shopping together that he will pay. The conversation floats past your ears because you’re just thrilled there will come a next time.

The van is waiting for you in the parking lot, where Eddie tosses you the keys to unlock the doors. He’s busy rummaging through the back trying not to rattle his band equipment, but he does use the inside of the drums to steady the dozen eggs.

“Are you buckled?” Eddie climbs into the drivers side.

You’re set in the passenger seat with the chocolate that Eddie bought for you. Using his thumb, he swipes at your chin where you’ve smeared melted chocolate on by accident.

“I’m buckled,” you tighten the seatbelt. “Do you want a bite?”

“No, but could you hand me the hamburger back there?”

You scrunch your nose. “How long has that been there?”

“Eh.. like a couple days?”

“Eddie!”

Laughter fills the corners of the van like a harmonious song. Well tuned - perfectly pitched.

-> <-

Eddie is an awful cook.

Finding your attention drawn onto the sharp knife in your hand, slicing potatoes into chunks, you’re not watching Eddie scrambling behind you. He’s got two spoons in his hands, but he scratches his head at what for. It isn’t until you’re gasping at the blackened smoke coming from the stove.

Flipping the carrots around in the pan, Eddie’s apologizing over and over. You reassure that the carrots still could be edible, but judging by the blackened bottoms, you both know well-enough to toss them.

You’re putting the potatoes into the hot water, only burning the tips of your fingers.

Eddie’s in control - er, sort of - cutting up new carrots. Following along what you did earlier, you bite your tongue at the massive pinches of black pepper and salt he’s added. Tablespoon or teaspoon? He’s got no clue!

“I’ll keep an eye out this time,” he holds a staring contest with the searing hot pan that’s still a bit too hot for the carrots.

You turn the burner down, and flick the carrots around until the smoke clears. Eddie groans, and takes over because he doesn’t like being micromanaged. It’s all in good fun, though. He does find being in the kitchen with you quite homey.

Homey.

Eddie’s never had that feeling before. Last time he’s felt at home, no offense to Wayne, was when his mom found him hidden in the cupboards of their little house. Sure, life wasn’t perfect for the Munsons, but his mom always kept the court dates and the legal shit out of his eye the best she could.

When she died, a part of Eddie had too. He misses the warm hugs and kisses, the way she lets him lick the spoon when she makes cookies from the tube.

But, alas, if his life was perfect then he wouldn’t be here with you. Eddie finds himself feeling pretty perfect anyway because you’re there. You’re humming a tune to yourself, as you twist the timer to twenty minutes. Old and barely alive, the timer clicks on like a mighty oak.

“Twenty minutes until the potatoes are done,” you swirl around to Eddie. He knows the sigh coming from your mouth is less about the exhaustion from cooking, as it is dealing with him in the kitchen. “What should we do while we wait?”

Eddie places his hands on your cheeks, and brings you into his chest. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Beating rhythms of your hearts pump between you two. You’ve got your ear to his breast imagining what’s dancing around in there.

Unintentionally, Eddie flicks the backing of your bra. A flame ignites inside you. Did he notice? Did he mean too?

Are you even prepared if the night falls that way?

You’re a bundle of nerves knowing that when that moment drops, and the both of you find yourself even closer than you are now that nothing could be the same. Going back isn’t an option. Swirling stars cloud your vision, as your breathing slows.

Eddie hums when your grip on his back loosens. He sways with you, while you’re drifting farther into your head.

Skies of warm orange and cotton candy coated pinks cloud your eye. Touching a garden of soft spring flowers. Ridges of the stone bridge. A kiss is pressed onto your forehead like a dew drop, raising you from your state of hypnosis.

“You still with me?” Eddie’s voice vibrates through your ears.

“Hm,” you hum. “Should we sit down?”

Eddie guides you to the couch where you’ll stay drifting into your own world with a blanket draped over your lap. You attempt to join him in the kitchen when the timer goes off, but Eddie raises his index finger and says,

“Don’t you dare.”

Then, your boyfriend wrestles with the oven to get the roast from it’s hot cage and plops too much butter into the mash. He winces when he puts the spoon to his lip, and tries to fend off your worry by telling you that the food is just hot.

Eddie sits next to you with two plates of food - one in each hand. He waits a moment for you to sit back up after sinking into the aged sofa, then lands the warm plate in your lap.

You’ve got no idea what you’re watching on the television, but right beside you is all the entertainment you need. Laughing heartily at Eddie’s cross expression, he sticks out his tongue at the well-done carrots.

“Don’t eat them,” he reaches for a glass of water. “They’re really awful.”

You nibble at the end of a carrot, and suck down your outward terror at how salty the vegetable is.

“It’s not that bad.”

They are indeed that bad.

Worse - even.

“You’re cute, but a terrible liar,” he pinches your shoulder.

-> <-

tags: @stardustingold @loves0phelia @ogoc-19 @hellfirenacht @blackholegladiator @alligator-person @eggo-segual @rustboxstarr @harmfulb1tch

[aloysiavirgata]

Twelve opening sentences to twelve different fics

Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the tag! This was really fun and I wholeheartedly encourage everyone to give it a go!

***

1. Dana Scully rejects tasseography, astrology, tarot cards, chiromancy, augury, crystallography, spirit boards, runecasting, scrying, and all other methods of prognosticative divination.

- The Parting Glass (FTF)

2. He sits on the porch next to a little propane heater, gazing out at the Winter Hexagon as it slowly rolls above the horizon.

- Albedo (Cozy at the Unremarkable House)

3. She recites The Raven to herself on the drive in, lists all the state capitals in alphabetical order, and goes through the periodic table.

- In The Gale (IWTB)

4. “I got each flavor of the high-protein kind,” Scully says, gesturing at the cans stacked on her coffee table.

The Ineluctable Tendencies Of Tumbling Toast (Queequeg)

5. Their cars are conspicuous in the nearly empty parking lot, which magnifies the free-floating uncertainty.

Dichotomous (s11e09)

6. Lauren Atwater sits on the edge of the front stoop, drinking coffee out of a worn plastic travel mug she bought a year ago from a Dunkin' Donuts in Abilene

A Dim Capacity For Wings (On the run)

7. That Phoebe Green brought this to her attention is somehow the most rankling thing about it, Scully thinks.

Anthemoessa (Scully - Bedelia - Stella - Clone Club)

8. Sunday morning is pancake morning, and William charges into his parents’ room just shy of 7 am.

Dryad (AU casefile)

9. They’ve been going through the storage room for hours, marveling at the sheer volume of items her mother had held onto.

Madeleine (s10e04)

10. The bodies are small, the heaviest weighing in at forty-seven pounds.

Hic Jacet (Emily)

11. There are ghosts afoot in London, stirred by the excesses of humanity in the face of their own dull eternity.

White Winter Hymnal (post Bad Blood)

12. She finds Mulder behind the house, drowsing in one of the hammocks they’d strung between the ancient oaks that tower above their patch of the planet.

Rags of Light (IWTB)

[omentranslates]

Trigun Maximum Chugai Grace Cafe Collaboration - I Translated the Website :3

Hi I saw someone on twt wanting this to be translated and that's literally all it takes to get me moving anymore so!

Anyways I translated all the food and drinks, I found the references they chose really cute except for the evil one lmao and I also included the unbelievably small print drink ingredients if you wanna try mixing them yourself!! 🫶

Also also, if you know how to use a proxy, there is actually some stuff here that overseas fans can get our hands on!! Under the cut to keep the dash clean!! Hope it helps!!!!!

Edit my dumbass forgot the original announcement link sjshsk IT’S HERE!!!

So, the menu

Going from left to right we've got

"Battle Sausage Spaghetti"

"As Many Salmon Sandwiches You Want"

"Love&Peace Donuts"

"Banana Sundae"

and on the bottom row

"The Perfect Meal Plate: Vash's Handmade Fried Rice and Salad" ((´༎ຶོω༎ຶོ`) o k )

"Particularly Wonderful Udon"

"Mille-feuille with Ceylon Tea" (i believe the first part specifies gateau mille-feuille but I went to episode one and checked the subs for what they had her say officially and they left the gateau off so I did too)

"Latte with a random character art"

Character Drinks!!!

The Bride Soda, which comes with a double-sided postcard of the sworn friends (very common nickname for Vash and Wolfwood in JP fandom and ig official uses it too)

So the soda is their proprietary thing, it doesn't say what flavor it is or if it has one, but the shotglasses come with a little bit of smoked oak syrup and black ceylon tea and you're meant to fill the rest of the glass with soda and drink it that way. And then the rest of the text is just information and disclaimers for customers that plan on taking the bottle home (I guess it breaks really easily that’s So. lmao).

Vash's Drink <3

strawberry syrup

carbonated water and lemon juice

yellow candied cherries (drained cherries) and ice

Wolfwood's Drink

crushed coffee jelly and cafe ice (ice made and flavored with concentrated coffee and fruit juice)

brewed iced coffee and gum syrup

blue curaçao syrup and carbonated water

experimental ampules filled with blue soda

the cigarette is full of light brown sugar you're meant to mix in before drinking

Knives's Drink

apple juice and round sliced apples

mint and ice (it looks like mint leaves but full disclosure they have blurred that kanji to all hell I have no idea)

Legato's Drink

blue curaçao syrup

grapefruit juice

carbonated water and a mint cherry

a lemon and ice

Collab Merch

(Overseas pay attention here!!!!!! ChugaiOnline is opening these to online orders so we can get them with a proxy, I'll leave their link at the end of this section!!!!!!)

I've also listed all the prices in yen here so you can convert them to your currency, and all of these are the prices including the listed Japanese sales tax. If you want to see the price without it, it’s just the other number on the image!

So they've got

Two way acrylic figure stands (the main stand comes with a ball chain, you can reference these on Amiami for what this kind of product looks like I'm prettyyyyy sure like they're called different but it looks like they go together the same way). Anyways this is a set of 6 and 1650 yen each, it looks like you get to choose which one you want but they don't have a deal listed for getting all of them.

Next to it are the buttons (also called can badges idk which one is more common over here), set of 12 (6 are regular and 6 are glittery variety). They are 550 yen per button AT RANDOM, THEY WILL GIVE YOU A RANDOM ONE, or a box with one of each all 12 for 6600 yen.

Below that is the polaroid collection, it's also a 12 piece set and you can get A RANDOM ONE, THEY DO NOT LET YOU PICK for 330 yen each or a box with all of them for 3960 yen.

The same exact deal with the plastic (like a vinyl material) postcards underneath, they're double-sided and come one for 660 yen each at random or the whole set for 7920 yen.

The calendar is for 2025 and is 1980 yen probably obvious but y'know

I would be so shocked if a proxy actually let you ship the Kuroneko sama cookie discs lmao but hey wtf they're 1080 yen.

The Bride soda is listed here because this is the same merch that will be sold in the shop but they specify elsewhere that it's not available for online order even in Japan you have to go to the cafe ;-;

Also this is just personal experience but a lot of proxies will not let you get like blind or random stuff like the buttons they don't let you pick which one, some of them will only let you get it if you're getting the whole box.

Annnnnnd online order special gifts!!

For every 3000 yen spent in merch (including tax) you will get a random postcard from this set!! There are 15 to collect, they are NOT divided into halves of the event, you can get any of them at any time or all at once!! However, you can't combine orders made at different times/by different people to get more and if they run out that's it. Altho fwiw I have never seen an event run out of these lol

The online order period will be from Friday, May 24th at 11 am to Sunday, June 16th at 11:59 pm (both JST) and items will begin to arrive (within Japan, proxies will have to handle our own shipping ofc) from August 2024 on a first ordered first shipped basis.

CHUGAIONLINE STORE (JAPAN)

Ok, this last bit is relevant to the in-person cafe experience so it's just for if you're curious about other cool things going on or you have a hobby of watching JP mercari like a hawk and wanna know what to expect!

Guests who reserve places at the cafe online will get copies of some of Nightow sensei's most prized sketch pages, they'll get 3 random ones! Like with the special gift postcards, there are a limited amount and this event will end when they're all gone.

And these are the coasters, guests will get one with every item they order off the food or drink menu at random (while supplies last)! The variety you can get is split between the former and latter halves of the event so there's something new to come back for even if you've already been once! (The first 12 days is on top and the last 12 days is on bottom)

They're also doing a wallscroll campaign!

They'll have these decorating the venue, and when the event is over a raffle will be held where the winners get to pick out a scroll of their choice!

OK I THINK THAT'S EVERYTHING RELEVANT HAPPY TRIGUN MANGA CAFE EVENT!!!!!

[readyforthegarden]

Eternal - Part Twelve

A vampire!gvf multi-part dark romance AU (Josh Kiszka x reader, GVF x reader)

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. smut (fingering f!receiving, penetrative sex, slight rough sex), angst, mentions of blood, death, vampirism.

A/N: hi 🫣 i just want to say thank you to everyone who still reads this fic and enjoys it, and the people who have checked in on it's progress (or lack thereof). i got really into my head about this fic and every kind word means a lot to me, really and truly. please enjoy this installment!

WC: 4188

Fall was beginning to take a hold of the world, the trees around the manor beginning to lose their bright summer greens in favor of maroons and oranges. Normally the first signs of fall had you tripping over yourself with excitement, cooler weather, cute sweaters, apple cider and sugary cinnamon donuts all within an arm's reach. But now, all it reminded you of was everything you missed. Would you get to experience the sun warming you on a chilly October day in your future? Or would you spend centuries pretending the moon's rays were just as good?

You had been curled up on a couch, looking out a window in one of the sitting rooms on the main floor, watching a steady rain shower pelt the grounds. It had been nearly a full week of rain, and you were growing tired of it. The gray skies gave enough cover for the vampires of the manor to feel at ease moving about with the curtains opened, but they still stood out of the way in case the clouds broke. 

“Hey,” looking up, you saw Danny standing in the doorway. 

“Hi,” you hadn’t spoken to him about the new ‘arrangement’ between yourself and the Kiszkas. In fact, you weren’t sure how to. Were you supposed to come right out and tell him you were potentially going to sleep with everyone in the house but him? How would he react to that? And worse, if you told him you fought for him to be added, how would he react then? Danny was a good man, immortal or not, and good men were never typically the ones that were attracted to you. 

“I made a few sandwiches for lunch, if you wanna join me?” Danny smiled sheepishly at you. It made you feel guilty, how you had started to avoid him to spare the awkward topic if it came up. His smile was so hopeful, you couldn’t find it within yourself to say no.

You walked with him to the kitchen, the back of his hand gently grazing yours on the short walk to the kitchen. Taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter, Danny went to the fridge and retrieved a platter of sandwiches he made. They were covered in plastic wrap and looked like they were perfect for a picnic. 

“You’ve been distant the past week,” Danny murmured softly, setting the platter down in front of you and removing the wrap. You shrugged in response, not knowing what to say. “Listen, if you’re acting weird around me because of the little agreement you have with the Kiszka’s, it’s okay.” Your eyes snapped up to Danny’s. He gave you a half-smile before grabbing some paper plates from a cupboard and placing one in front of you. 

“How did you…”

“I’m still Sam’s best friend, even after all these centuries.” Danny winked. “But I’m not judging you for it. I want you to know that.” your shoulders relaxed at his words, more tension than you had realized you’d had releasing from them. 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t just that I was afraid of you judging me..” you took half of a sandwich off the platter, setting it in your plate. You fixated on the leaf of lettuce hanging over the edge of the bread, taking your nail and ripping it. 

“What else was bothering you?” Embarrassment swelled in your chest, heat rising through your body and prickling your cheeks and ears. 

“That you weren’t a part of it.” you whispered. You didn’t see the expression on Danny’s face. The shock at your admittance, the wave of satisfaction as he realized you felt what he felt too, and the anger that pressed his lips into a thin line for it to all be swept away as quickly as it came. 

“I’m sure there’s a good reason,” Danny cleared his throat. There was a sense of dejection in his voice, and it cracked your heart. You sighed, picking at the crust of your sandwich. “The Kiszka’s always have their reasons.” 

“Josh just said it was a boundary he wasn’t willing to negotiate.” you mumbled, finally looking up at Danny. He stared at you across the counter before moving around it, coming to your side and turning you on the stool. 

You felt a finger under your chin, turning your head up, locking eyes with Danny. His eyes were darting all over your face, lingering on your slightly parted lips. Heart beating wildly, you felt your neck crane in assistance, your movement to meet him halfway beckoning him closer. Eyes shut, his lips met yours tenderly, waiting for a response. When your lips moved against his, he took your face in his hands, cradling you gently and deepened the kiss, his tongue gently and slowly lapping against your own. You could feel as the kiss slowed again, his reluctance to pull away, and yet he did, opening his eyes and gazing down at you with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he murmured. “Thank you,”

“No one’s ever thanked me for a kiss before.” you chuckled quietly, feeling the need to whisper in this secret moment. “You’re welcome?” Danny let out a soft laugh through his nose, bending down and pecking your lips before letting go of you completely.

“This is between us, okay?” you nodded, crossing your heart. In all honesty, you were glad to have this secret with Danny. It filled you with a small giddiness, the feeling of having done something naughty that felt so good making you want to giggle. 

He moved around the counter and just in time. The kitchen doors swung open, and Jake sauntered in. There was a glimmer in his eye you hadn’t seen before as he looked at you, then Danny, then the plate of food between you two. 

“Sandwiches?!” He reached over the counter, grabbing one and taking a large bite. “There’s something about these dreary rainy days that makes you want the comfort of a good sandwich, isn’t there?” 

“I guess?” You chuckled under your breath, finally picking up your half and biting the corner off. 

“Isn’t Danny a wonderful chef?” Jake continued, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I taught him almost everything he knows about food.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Jake took another bite of his sandwich. “Danny, Sam is looking for you. Something about moving his bed to the other side of the room.”

“Again?” Danny grumbled. He gave you a soft smile before leaving the kitchen, his sandwich on his plate, barely touched.  It was quiet, just the sounds of you and Jake chewing before he took a sharp inhale through his nose and looked at you. 

“What did Josh tell you last night?” your forehead crinkled, looking at Jake in confusion. He spoke without looking at you, playing uninterested in anything but the salami on his sandwich. 

“What-“

“I saw you and Danny.” Jake sniffed. “Kissing in a communal kitchen is risky.” 

“Jake,” 

“If I tell Josh, it’s bad for everyone.” Jake shook his head. “But especially you and Danny.” 

“What is Josh’s deal with Danny? Hmm?!” Jake finished off his sandwich, licking some mayo from his finger. 

“That is not my story to tell, darlin’” pushing back from the counter, you jumped off the stool, beginning to storm past him to find out what the real reason was. 

Jake put a hand on your arm, stopping you from passing. Looking at him, his face was stern, if not a bit worried. 

“I won’t tell him what I saw,” Jake told you, his voice quiet. “But I will warn you. You’ve gotten away with a lot most people would have been drained dry for. Do not test my brother this way. For yours and Danny’s sake.” 

“It’s nothing,” 

“Your heartbeat says otherwise.” Jake bit back. “And if Josh fed on you recently he has felt it. I would come up with an alibi, and quickly.” Jake’s eyes flickered with an old anger you hadn’t seen before, one that, for the first time since meeting him, scared you. 

Jake let go of your arm, swiping another sandwich from the platter and moving around you to exit. 

“It was just a kiss,” you whispered. “It won’t happen again.” Jake looked at you over his shoulder, almost pityingly. 

“If you value your life, I hope not.”

Danny didn’t try to kiss you again after that moment in the kitchen. Whether he’d gotten a talking to from Jake himself, he didn’t say. But the two of you worked together on the chores, letting the tension die down into a somewhat awkward friendship again. 

You decided to have lunch in the small solarium of the house. It was sunny outside, not a cloud in sight, but a chill had hit the air, making you want to stay inside. Danny joined you at the table, keeping his distance by sitting down from you. 

Food was the last thing on your mind, you tilted your head back at the sun and closed your eyes, soaking in the warmth through your skin and clothes. The break in the bleak cloudy weather gave you a much needed mood boost. 

“You should put on some sunscreen if you’re going to be doing that all afternoon.” Danny joked, stirring his soup around in the bowl, releasing steam from the thick broth. Smiling, you tilted your head back down, sticking your tongue out at him and scooping up a dumpling from the soup in front of you. 

“Do you think you could do it?” you asked, blowing on your food before eating. 

“Do what?”

“Give up the sun.” Danny was quiet, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls, the occasional soft flutter of a leaf landing atop of the solarium roof. 

“Do you think…you could?” you hadn’t been sure of the answer yourself but it bubbled up on your lips before you realized. 

“No,” you shook your head. Realizing your steadfast feeling, you straightened in your chair. “No I don’t think I could.”

“Me either,” Danny looked up toward the sky, seemingly relieved. “Sam wanted to try once, after the curse. And honestly I figured I’m already immortal, might as well be a vampire too.. But I didn’t know if trying for a ‘double eternal life’ would negate it all and kill me. We found Morana and asked, but she advised it wouldn’t be good.”

“I don’t blame you,” you picked up the piece of crusty bread on the saucer with your soup bowl, dunking it in and taking a bite. “Who is Morana?”

“She’s the witch Sam found, the one who did the curse.” Danny looked down into his soup bowl, as if the broth and vegetables were showing him a vision of the past. “So you don’t want to be turned?” Danny quirked an eyebrow at you. Shaking your head, you answered. 

“I want to live as long as I can and then get old and die.” you nodded. “And honestly, I’ll take turning into a wrinkly leather bag over missing the sun.”

“Gonna retire to Florida?” Danny laughed as you nodded harder. 

“Gonna get myself a little bungalow in a senior living facility, meet up with another old lady named Eustace and complain about the clam chowder on Tuesdays.” Danny almost snorted laughing, making your giggles erupt loudly. As the two of you laughed, you couldn’t help but envision spending more and more sunny days with Danny. You tried to envision the same with Josh, but couldn’t place him in the sun the way you could Danny. 

“It’s a nice dream, isn’t it,” Danny sighed, settling down a bit. 

“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to have dentures and diapers.” you giggled. 

“No, growing old.” Danny’s face fell, a solemn look taking the place of the cheerful smile. “Don’t waste that, okay? I would have given anything to do that.” 

“I know,” you whispered softly. Your heart broke for him, an occurrence that happened more often than not around him. Danny’s choice was taken away, and you’d be damned if you ended up in the same fate. 

You were ready to call it a night early. In your enthusiasm for the nice fall weather, you decided to try and rake a small patch of the massive lawn, just to spend a few more hours in the sun. Even with the gloves Danny gave you from the gardening shed, blisters had formed on your palms just under the skin, stinging with every flex of your hand. 

The large tub in your bathroom was calling your name, and you joked to Danny as you entered the house. The closer you got to your room, the more excited you were to run the water, add the bubbles and sink down into the hot water. But as you entered your room, it seemed someone had beat you to it. 

Steam was filtering out from the cracked open door to your bathroom, flickering light glinting off a gilded picture frame on the wall adjacent. Slowly you stepped towards the bathroom, hearing water splash around softly, and you stepped into the humid air. 

“It’s about time,” Sam smirked at you from your bathtub. “Jake is going to have a coronary when he sees the amount of water I’ve been using to keep this bath warm.”

“Sam, what are you doing?”

“I’m tired of waiting for you to come to me,” he shrugged simply. “You wanted seduction, and what’s more seductive than a hot, candle lit bath after a long day of working?” you took a deep breath, leaning against the sink counter, watching Sam relax back into the tub. “I even brought up a bottle of wine.”

“I’m sweaty and tired, Sam.” he picked up a glass of wine and stretched his arm out to hand it to you, though it only reached the middle of the tub. There was condensation on the glass, making you lick your lips, knowing it was chilled to perfection. 

“It’s chardonnay,” Sam sung temptingly, swirling the liquid in the glass to tantalize you. It did look good, and you pushed yourself away from the counter, bending to reach for the glass. Sam pulled it away, a playful, sinful look in his eyes. “You get in the tub, you get the wine.”

“Is there an option where I get in the tub and get the wine and you get out?” you snipped, leaning over the edge of the tub. 

“No.” Sam grinned, and you straightened up. Huffing out a ‘fine’, you stripped down, ignoring Sam’s gaze and slipped into the tub, settling at the other end. Sam eyed you for a moment, and handed you the glass of wine, which you gladly sipped and smiled. 

“Happy?”

“Getting there,” Sam murmured. He leaned back against his end of the tub, arms outstretched on the sides. Settling back into the tub, you let the hot water soothe your tired muscles. Holding your glass to your chest, you closed your eyes, ignoring the presence of the man across from you, staring at you. 

You adjusted your back a few times, trying to find a sweet spot that would work out a sore muscle in your right shoulder. The movement of the water met your ears, and you felt your body be pushed forward. Opening your eyes, Sam was no longer across from you, and instead you felt his body behind yours, his legs on either side of you.

“Let me help you with that,” his voice was low, his hands gathering your hair and moving it to your left shoulder. When he touched you again, he applied pressure with his finger tips, causing you to sigh. His hands were warm, and his thumb quickly found the knot you’d been trying to ease. A sharp, small gasp left your throat as he dug into it, and you felt him chuckle behind you. “There it is,”

Humming, you leaned forward, letting him work down your back and into the water. You downed the rest of your wine and set the glass on the side of the tub next to the bottle and some candles. Sam’s hands came up your back, working slowly before they came up and rounded your shoulders, to your neck. Your head lolled back involuntarily as he reached over you towards your collarbones. 

“Did you also work in the massage parlor with Jake?” you asked quietly, a small laugh in your voice. 

“I’d help him out here and there,” Sam whispered into your ear, his facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. “Are you feeling good, pet?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. You weren’t lying. Between the chilled wine, the hot bath, and the massage you were feeling less sore and so, so relaxed. Sam’s touch became lighter, his fingers slowly, gently grazing your skin. He teased you, barely dipping below the water and bubbles where your breasts waited. 

“Would you allow me to make you feel even better?” a shaky breath and soft nod, Sam's hands dipped below the water surface, caressing your breasts. His fingers found your nipples, pinching them delicately and rolling them between his thumb and forefingers. You arched your back, feeling your legs spread at the warm feeling spreading through your veins. 

Sam’s left hand stayed at your breast, softly groping it in his large hand and teasing your nipple. His right slid down your body, grazing your hip before making their way to your center. 

“Sam,” you sighed as the pad of his middle finger circled around your clit, the perfect amount of pressure to make your thighs shake with every pass. Moans were spilling from your lips as your hips bucked from his touch. One of your hands grasped his wrist under the water, desperate for something to cling to. 

“You sound so pretty,” Sam murmured into your ear, a hint of a yearning whine in his voice. “You feel so soft,” his finger slipped lower, teasing you before sliding in, working against the water around you. The heel of his hand was brushing against your clit as he pumped in and out. Your chest was heaving out of the water as you panted, writhing back against Sam. Water was sloshing out of the tub, bubbles going flat. His lips were pressed to your neck and shoulder, before the hand that was on your breast came up, grabbing your chin and twisting your head back and capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. You felt the strain in your tired muscles but didn’t care, his kiss was hot and heady, and you only broke away to catch your breath.

“I’m so close,” you shuddered, opening your eyes and looking at him, “Sam, please. Don’t stop.”

“You sound just like you did in my dream, pet,” Sam grinned, between his own panting breaths. “I want you to say my name as you come, will you do that?” Biting your lip, you nodded, and he sped up his movements, causing you to cry out, the sound echoing off the walls. 

“Sam!” you cried, your grip on his arm tightening. His name fell from your lips over and over again as your orgasm crashed down on you, your hips bucking against his hand and causing more water and bubbles to splash onto the bathroom floor. You felt a sharp sting on your shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye Sam’s head was ducked down, a moan vibrating off his lips as his own hips pressed against your lower back. 

You were dizzy, but you were hellbent on getting more from Sam. At your movement, Sam withdrew his fangs from your skin, small beads of blood left in their absence. You moved his hand from your core and turned, straddling him and sinking down on his hard cock slowly. His head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth agape as you inched down, a brief glimpse of a vulnerable, quiet Sam. You noticed some of your blood on his lips, though none made it to his tongue. It may have been in acknowledgment of his agreement with Josh, even licking it from his lips could be considered drinking from you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your thumb swiping across his plush bottom lip, gathering the ruby red liquid from it.

Sam’s eyes opened, and he watched you meet his eyes, bringing your thumb to your lips. Something lit behind his eyes as he watched you clean the blood off, and his hands took a hold of your hips, moving you as his hips thrust up at a quick pace. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, grabbing onto his shoulders to try and keep balance. Sam grinned before leaning forward, biting your breasts, anywhere his fangs could reach, leaving little punctures all over. Without the pull of a drink, it wasn’t near enough to send you over the edge again, but each nip did set a spark through your veins. One of your hands left his shoulder and tangled in his hair, clutching it and tugging his head back, his mouth falling open again. You were still able to taste a little of your blood in your mouth, and you leaned down, lapping your tongue against his. 

A low growl emitted from his chest, letting you know he could also, in fact, taste the blood too. 

“What a nasty, nasty trick,” he mumbled against your lips. A large hand raised from the water, enclosing around your throat, squeezing the sides. That spark in his eyes was dancing dangerously in the candlelight, and he rutted up into you, causing you to gasp with what little air you could intake. “If I wanted to, I could drink every drop of your blood right now.” Goosebumps raised on your flesh as you panted shallowly above him, your nipples hardening again, and he smirked “Oh, you want that don’t you?” In a flash of inhuman speed, you were on your stomach on the cold floor, Sam pulling your hips up and easing himself back into you. He wrapped a fist in your hair, tugging you up roughly. 

Sam’s lips pressed onto your shoulders again, the razor sharp tips of his fangs grazing, causing small rips to the skin there. You were preparing yourself for another bite, but his lips pressed to your ear again, breath hot.

“You want to break the one rule that matters most, don’t you?” his voice was ragged with his thrusting, and you reached back a hand to grasp his tensed thigh, trying to have some leverage. “You want me to drink from you and put you over the edge again. Even the hint of your blood tasted so sweet, I don’t think I could ever stop drinking you.” His hand left your hair and enveloped your throat again, though not squeezing as hard this time. 

“S-sam,” you stuttered out, your mind was turning into jelly, your muscles already ahead of it. If Sam hadn’t been holding you up, you’d been face down on the floor, moaning into the tile. 

“I do love to break rules, and I know you do too, pet,” Sam’s gravelly voice laughed haughtily in your ear. “Do you want that? Another little secret to keep?” Ice rushed through your veins, the idea that Sam also knew about the kiss with Danny, but it was quickly replaced with the fire erupting in your lower abdomen. Sam’s fangs punctured the skin of your neck, and you moaned. He was huffing out shallow, hard breaths onto your skin as his hips rhythm became frantic, slamming into you. You were sure there were going to be bruises forming on your ass in the shape of his hip bones. Your fingernails dug into his thigh as you came again, crying out his name one last time. Sam’s hips stilled as he found his release, moaning onto your skin. 

He took his fangs from your neck when he could muster the strength of movement, holding you to him with one arm while reaching over to the counter, grabbing a washcloth and wiping the small amount of blood from his lips and fangs before his tongue could taste more. Your body was limp, and he moved you both until you were closer to the tub, leaning you against it before standing and opening the drain to the tub. You were watching him, catching your breath. He strode around the bathroom, gathering a few towels and then turning on the shower. 

“What are you doing?” you asked softly. Sam glanced back at you.

“We worked up quite another sweat,” he answered. “I don’t think another bath will help, so we’re taking a shower.”

“I don’t think I can stand to even wash my body,” you weren’t joking, your legs almost felt fuzzy, like they’d fallen asleep in your previous position. Sam came over again, leaning down and putting your arms around his neck and hoisting you into his arms.

“Lucky for you, pet,” Sam hummed, walking you to the shower. “You have a bench in here, and I plan on doing all the work.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

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[pavstars]

summer breeze

[ crossposted on ao3 @ sinnerspades ]

some of my jojo favs with summer activities. includes: abbacchio, mista, jotaro, dragona, joseph & suzi q, and johnny

author’s note: using he/him pronouns for dragona! if they end up changing in the future i can edit :) some are longer than others but i swear im not biased, just more inspo and ideas. also joseph/suzi/reader poly ftw!

-

Abbacchio: It’s such a nice day out that it seems the entire city has opened up their yard sales, estate sales, stores- you name it. Not one to stay cooped up inside while the sun shines so brightly, you drag Leone out to various houses and streets that you think will pique his interest. “Look, this one says goth yardsale!” you tease, tugging his hand towards the shoddy little gray house. 

    He looks so good today (he always looked good and exceptionally done up) with his long hair tied into a messy bun, a few strands coming loose and framing his face so nicely. This sale in specific ends up being a score and you return to your car down the street with a worn paperback (“you’ve never read interview with the vampire?! Leone!”), varying lace and leather clothing items in black and grey, and the cutest little antique lamp you had ever seen. You make a trip to the record store on your way back home and he buys two cds: sisters of mercy and moody blues of course. Your evening is spent dancing slowly in the living room and finding spots to put your new goodies.

Mista: Taking a trip to the lake with your favorite boys, but not after stopping at the store for floaties of course. Mista has the genius idea: “let’s bring an air mattress!” despite your caution you cave and leave with one air mattress, a giant inflatable alligator, and two sparkly donut floaties. 

    At the lake you spend far too long wasting your breath blowing it up- until Fugo raises an eyebrow “why don’t you just use the air mattress fan on the other floaties?” Oh right… Yeah that would make things easier… After applying generous amounts of sunscreen on to everyone (Mista didn’t need much, he tanned easily and without fear of being burnt) you all head into the water. The chill of the lake water feels so nice on your heat-soaked bodies after being in the sun for so long setting up. 

    You drag the inflatable mattress out and wade until the water is about chest-deep. Mista hops on to the mattress and you’re almost afraid it’ll start sinking under his weight but it stays surprisingly afloat. “Well, aren’t you going to join me?” He grins at you, shaking water out of his dark curls. You accept his hand and he pulls you on top of him on the mattress, holding you in a strong and very warm embrace. The mattress ends up floating way far out to the middle of the lake, but you two are on either side with your hands in the water, unbothered and ready to deal with this problem when you got to it later. 

    “This was actually a really good idea.” you turn to face him and smile softly. He leans on one of his elbows to turn to face you as well, but quickly pales as he realizes his mistake. The uneven weight of his elbow on the mattress had pushed it down and water had quickly started pooling, sinking his side of the mattress. You shrieked as he rolled into the water and you could hear Narancia’s laugh all the way from the other side of the lake. It only got louder when Mista swam around the other side and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you into the water with him and pressing kisses against the side of your face. 

Jotaro: Last minute trips to the store to get sandcastle supplies, even though you know you’ll have to convince him to build one with you. You end up buying snacks too, perfect for a little picnic by the water. Once you reach the beach you end up using the plastic yellow pails to collect shells and rocks instead of their original purpose, but you’d never complain. “This one matches your eyes!” you hold a pretty turquoise pebble up to his face and squint, comparing the color. He laughs softly and takes it, adding the rock to your growing collection to bring back home. 

    While you’re setting up the picnic, he silently searches for a rock of your own: he didn’t even have to look over at your face, knowing the color of your eyes by heart. A lifetime of stolen glances studying your face and staring at the details of your eyes, lips, nose too when you weren’t looking back at him.  After lunch you two finally get into the water, tiny fish swimming around your feet and sand between your toes. You squeal when he picks you up effortlessly by your waist and tosses you into the water, but you get your revenge after coming back up for air and jumping onto his back with your legs wrapped around his waist, effectively splashing him. His hair is so curly after he comes out of the water and you make him lean down so you can towel dry it ever so carefully. 

Dragona: Sticky sweet hands splitting apart fruits to share, ice cold drinks sweating water droplets on to your chests, the smell of sunscreen and coconut body lotion. Matching swimsuits and sunbathing together after a long day of swimming and running around the beach. Dragona practically glows in the sun and you can’t help but stare from behind your huge sunglasses. He grins at you and rolls on to his side, striking a pose and inviting you to keep staring. 

    The sun is so warm and you’re so happy, you wish you could just lay here forever with him and take a cat-nap in the sun. But alas, you’ve made plans for dinner and you have to go get changed- the restaurant was casual but not swimsuit casual. That feeling on vacation of pulling loose fitting dresses and shirts over your swimsuit and sitting down outside to share your food, a nice warm breeze passing by. Showers are due once you get home and you have a feeling you’ll be sleeping so soundly after the long day you’ve had. You trace the tattoos on his skin and fall asleep against his chest, lulled by the sound of crashing waves.

Joseph and Suzi Q: waking up early to take the ferry together to a tiny, homely island. Visiting a huge lavender farm and spending hours just wandering and picking the perfect bouquets for all three of you. Tucking a flower into Joseph’s hair, right behind his ear while he leans down to give you a better angle. Weaving daisies into Suzi Q’s hair and giggling when she returns the favor. Laying in the grass under the shade of a huge tree, eating runny ice cream and sharing bites. Screaming and scrambling away when the bees buzz a bit too close: “you’ve fought a god but you can’t handle a bumble bee???” On the ferry back home Joseph falls asleep on your shoulder and snores softly in your ear- you run a hand through his unruly hair and Suzi snaps a pic for you two to tease him over later.

Johnny: The sun is almost finished setting, beautiful shades of orange and purple floating through the sky and casting an amber glow on your faces. You two sit on the steps of the porch, content to sit and stare at the sky while the radio plays from the open kitchen window. You can smell dinner cooking inside, as well as the faint smoky smell of a campfire being started in the backyard. It’s a perfect temperature outside, warm with a faint cool breeze, and you turn your head to stare at Johnny who’s still gazing up at the sky. 

    You wish you could live in this moment forever, counting the freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose, admiring the way his lashes brush against his face- god he was so pretty. His eyes meet your own and you blush, scooting away in embarrassment of having been caught. “See something you like sweetheart?” He muses, taking a hold of your hand and tugging you back over to him, closer than before. Music drifts in and out through the window but the moment is interrupted when Gyro calls you two to dinner. With a smile you stand up and dust off your jeans, holding out your arm out for Johnny to take with his own strong one as you help him to his cane resting against the kitchen door frame. Dinner was in the backyard of course, why else make a campfire? 

[something-tofightfor]

Black Days Interlude: Head High, A Song You Like

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,376

Rating: M (language, mentions of Reader’s previous relationship)

Summary: A week after your first date, something big comes up - leaving the status of a previous invitation up in the air. Tim does what he thinks is best ... but was it the right call?

Author’s Note: A little different this time ... hope you like it. 

Questions? Concerns? Wanna screech about Tim? You know where to find me.

Chapter title comes from “Head Down” by Soundgarden.

Masterlist / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

(banner by @stealyourblorbos)

He pushed the tab back on his coffee cup before he took a sip, but it immediately flipped forward once he removed his fingers. Shit. Curling his upper lip when the thin plastic rammed into the space between his upper lip and nose, Tim rolled his eyes. This fuckin’ day. 

He hated having to hunt down witnesses, but that was what he’d been doing all morning - and the afternoon didn’t look any better. Shoving the cup back into the holder between the seats, he reached for his phone and unlocked it with one swipe of his finger. 

It had been almost a week since your date. He’d talked to you on the phone a couple times, and you’d exchanged text messages almost daily. But true to his word, he hadn’t been able to see you since you’d said goodbye in the parking lot of the donut shop. 

Tim knew that there was a decent possibility that both of you were setting yourselves up for disappointment by getting to know each other. You were fresh off of a breakup, and he didn’t have time for a traditional relationship. You worked two jobs on opposite shifts, and his workdays had no scheduled end times. 

It seemed destined to fail between you, and yet he hadn’t hesitated when it came to befriending you in the first place. 

Maybe it was the coffee. Maybe it was that you didn’t shy away when it came to the way he’d first spoken to you in the diner. It was likely a combination of multiple things, but whatever it was, Tim had wanted to know you, and that made it much more difficult for him to keep from stopping back into the diner after the first night you’d spoken. 

Tim opened his messages and quickly typed one out to you - you working tonight? - before setting it down on the seat and tipping his head back. It felt impersonal, but messaging during the day was a better option than calling, and he knew you’d answer. 

But your reply wasn’t what he was expecting, the vibration of his phone displaying a message from you only moments later. 

I’m on lunch, can I give you a call? 

Instead of answering, Tim called you, bending his arm and resting his elbow against the inside of the window while he waited for you to pick up. “Detective Rockford. I didn’t think you’d -” He clenched his jaw at the sound of your voice, fighting back a groan. I like hearing that so damn much. It had never been a thing for him before, but something about the sound of his name - and rank - coming from your mouth got to him. And she did it right away, too. 

“Figured I’d just call instead of typing back.” He curled his fingers against the side of his head, eyes on the windshield in front of him. “What’s going on? How’s work?” 

“The same as usual.” Your voice filled the small enclosed space, you quiet laugh at the end of the statement making him smile. “Tons of busy work, but at least it makes the days go by faster. You know how it is.” 

He watched a woman with a dog walk by, her mouth moving as she spoke to someone through her earbuds. “I do.” He nodded, swallowing. “So. You didn’t answer my question. You working tonight? I’ve got someone I need to talk to this afternoon about a case, but I’ll be out early tonight, so I thought … I thought I might see if you wanted me to -”

“I’m not working tonight.” You released a breath and Tim let his mind wander, thinking of your facial expression - and the likely slight pout of your lips as you sighed. “I’m actually giving up a diner shift every week to a coworker for the next couple months.” What? Why? “She’s pregnant, and wants to pick up nights while she still can. I don’t need the money like she does, so … I offered.” 

“That was nice of you.” He frowned, straightening up and moving his hands to the steering wheel. “Won’t be good for your sleep, but … I’m sure she appreciates it.” 

“That’s what they make Melatonin for, right?” You laughed, but he heard the sadness behind it. “I’ll be fine.” His frown deepened, Tim shaking his head back and forth. 

“Like I said, I’ll be home pretty early tonight, so if you want to stop over, you can. We can order dinner and watch a movie, or …” What the fuck are you doing, Rockford? He tightened his grip on the wheel, still staring out the window. Seeing you more wouldn’t help. In fact, it would likely only make the times when you couldn’t see each other because of his job more difficult to deal with and would make his divided attention hard to ignore. But she won’t be sleeping, and if she’s with me, at least she’ll have a distraction. “Or whatever you want.” 

There was a long pause, and Tim heard the sounds of you moving the phone, followed by the clearing of your throat. “Or you could come over here. You already know what time I’m done for the day, so… any time after that, I’m free.” 

It was a shift in the friendship, and both of you knew it. 

You inviting him over meant he’d have your actual address and access to your personal space. It meant seeing the place where you lived - and where your ex had lived. It meant seeing a part of you that he hadn’t before. “If you’re comfortable with that.” He swallowed, nodding. “I already said my place is open to you, so -”

“I want you to come over, Tim.” There was certainty in your voice, and he couldn’t hold back the smile at it. “Dinner and a movie sounds great, but it … it would be nice to have someone else in my place for a change, you know?” 

“Of course.” His eyes flicked over to the dash display at the telltale beep of another incoming call. I don’t know that number. “I’m getting another call right now, and it could be for work, so -”

“Take it, Tim. I’ll text you my address. Just let me know when you’re coming, OK?”

“Yes.” He said your name, wetting his lips. “Have a good rest of the day, alright? I’ll see you tonight.” 

You assured him you would - and told him to do the same. Instead of hanging up, he switched over to the second call, still smiling. The line was silent for a few seconds, and then he heard a man’s voice coming through the speakers. 

“Is this Tim Rockford?” Immediately, Tim’s body stiffened,  his eyes narrowing. “I was given this number by a friend of mine, he said he knew you?” 

“This is Rockford.” Tim shifted in his seat, wariness increasing. “Who is this?” 

“My name’s Victor Murphy, and I’m an associate of John Morgan’s?” Shit. What could … “If you have a few minutes to meet, I’ve got something I think you’ll want to see.” 

— 

Twenty five minutes later, Tim walked into a coffee shop, the man on high alert. 

There were a few other people in the restaurant, but he immediately zeroed in on a light-haired man sitting at a table and sipping from a coffee cup - thanks to the closed manilla envelope that rested in the center of the table. This ought to be good. 

He slid into the booth across from the man wordlessly, crossing his arms and then resting both elbows on the table. “Detective Rockford.” The blonde held out one hand, waiting for Tim to take it. “It’s nice to meet you.” Tim stayed quiet, eyeing Victor, but the man’s face gave nothing away. “I’m sure you’re busy, so we’ll get right to it, alright?” 

“Sounds good.” He pointed at the envelope. “What’s that?” 

“That,” the man started, pushing the envelope across the table .”Is why we’re here.” 

He tried - and failed - to keep the frown off of his face as he picked up and opened the envelope, turning it over to slide the contents out. And he failed again when his fingers tightened around the stack of photos, top lip curling into a snarl as he raised his gaze. “He is having her followed.” 

“He is.” Victor leaned in. “And I thought I’d tell you first.” Why? His eyes went back to the photos as he flipped through them - pictures of you leaving your apartment and heading to work in various outfits, a couple of you walking across a parking lot and holding a bottle of wine, a pair from you parking your car in front of his house, more of the two of you sitting on his patio and eating. There were pictures of you kissing that had been taken through the window of his kitchen, and even more of the two of you in the donut shop parking lot. 

Oh, I’m fucking pissed. He flipped through the last couple - images of you carrying the donut box back to your place - and then set the stack face down on the tabletop, steepling his fingers together and trying to keep his voice even. “Why are you showing me these?” 

Victor smiled, poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth. “I’m showing you because I thought … maybe you could do something for me.” 

“I don’t work with PI’s.” He scoffed. “It’s a -”

“The fact that you know John Morgan says otherwise.” Shit. Victor held up a hand, shaking his head. “I don’t want anything big. And I’d never ask anything that would compromise your job, that’s not my style. But you know how it is for John, and it’s the same for me.” He pointed at the pictures. “John was the one that gave me your name  when he saw those. I had no idea who you were before he told me.” The man sipped his coffee, pausing. “So I figured if I tipped you off that I was going to hand those over to my client later this week, maybe you could owe me one.” 

“One … what?” Tim straightened up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “I’m gonna need you to be a little more clear than that.” 

“A favor.” Victor held up a hand. “Maybe I’ll need a name or a license plate number or an address. Maybe I’ll need a heads up about prior criminal records. Maybe I’ll just need something to make my job easier. Morgan says you’ve come through for him a few times, and that’s all I’m looking for.” 

Tim cocked his head to the right, narrowing his eyes. The man didn’t seem to be asking for much - and despite the fact that he didn’t make it a point to work with PI’s - like he’d told you - he’d made an exception for his friend on a couple of occasions for cases that had nothing to do with relationship investigations. 

“Can I ask you something?” Tim poked his tongue into his cheek. “Why do you do this?” He pointed at the folder with one finger. “Why do you help men like her ex keep tabs on people after the end of a relationship?” Victor stayed quiet, waiting. “They’re not together anymore, and haven’t been for a while. It’s one thing if someone’s married and thinks that they’re getting cheated on, or if you suspect someone of a crime… but this?” He reached out, tapping the pictures. “She could have started dating five different people after they broke up, and it would have been none of his business, but you’re allowing it to be his business. You -”

‘I’ve gotta pay my bills, man.” Victor shrugged. “To be honest, most of what I do isn’t this. But one of this guy’s old teammates used me last year to tail someone he thought was embezzling from him, and recommended me. It’s just a job. I got paid to watch her for a couple months, and -”

“They’ve been broken up for months.” Tim leaned in, shaking his head. “So why now?” 

“He paid me upfront for three months starting about a month and a half ago.” The other man finished his coffee. “Couple days a week, I watch her. Watch her go to work at the office and then at that diner. Watch her do her errands after work and then go home. Watch her lights stay on almost all goddamn night when she is home. Until a little while ago, that’s all she did. Met up with friends a few times and had some drinks, but aside from that? Nothing.” 

Tim bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a wince. She didn’t … she isn’t… it’s worse than I thought. You’d told him about your routine post-breakup, but he hadn’t realized just how little you actually did in your free time. “So I was the first guy you saw her with.” He scoffed, rubbing at his forehead with two fingers. “Before this, there was nothing to really …. Fuck.” 

“Look, I don’t know how well you know her, but, yeah. Before these pictures, the most interesting thing she did was lay out by the pool or read on her balcony at weird times. It was easy money, and since I didn’t really have much to report, it was no big deal.” He gestured to the photos. “That’s going to change. And I can’t just not give him anything, so he’s going to see the two of you.” 

“Does he seem dangerous?” Tim wet his lips. “I’ve never met the guy, but if she’s going to be …” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Do I need to warn her?” 

“You can do whatever you want, Rockford.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “And I don’t know. He hasn’t seemed like it in the couple times I’ve met him, but like I said, this is … new information. And the vibe I get from him is that he thinks that at some point, when this woman gets lonely enough, she’s going to want him back.” He thought back to your words - you telling him that your ex hadn’t wanted to see you with anyone but him. I’m going to tell her. I’ve got to. 

Tim pressed his lips together as he made a decision. “Can I keep these? If I tell her that this asshole’s got someone watching her, she’ll believe me if I can show her pictures.” Victor nodded. “Ok, and then … will you do me a favor?” He picked the pictures up again, flipping through them and pulling two from the stack. “Can you not give him these two?” He handed them over, letting the other man look. “You can see my address in ‘em, and I really don’t want this guy showing up at my door in the middle of the night because he thinks she’s there.” 

“I can do that.” Victor sighed. “Look, Morgan told me you were a good guy. And she seems like a normal girl. I’m not meetin’ this guy until tomorrow night, so you have a day or so to … figure out what you want to do.” Tim nodded. “I’m not going to give him your name, because there’s no reason I should know it yet. Take the pictures. Show her. Do whatever you want to do with ‘em, but if you confront him?” He leaned closer. “Don’t tell him I’m the one that gave them to you. I’m tryin’ to do the right thing and give you a heads up, but I still need to pay my bills.” 

“I’ll figure it out.” Tim stood and reached for the pictures and envelope, packing them back inside. “As much as I think it’s bullshit you agreed to this job in the first place, I appreciate you reaching out.” Victor laughed, nodding. “Anything else?”

“No.” The other man sat up straighter, his gaze turned up. “We good?” I hate this. But … 

“We’re good. I owe you one. You know how to get ahold of me.” Tim picked up the full envelope and took a step away from the table. Wait. Tim turned his head to the side, looking back over one shoulder. “I’ll owe you two if you keep me in the loop.”

“Hmm?” 

“You see anything that you think I should know about - this asshole approaching her, him mentioning anything to you, him asking you questions about getting anyone else involved … you let me know.”  Victor hadn’t expected that - but wordlessly, the man stuck his hand out, waiting. Tim took it, pumping up and down twice in agreement, and then nodded, retracting his arm and heading for the door. 

What the fuck am I going to do now?

— 

At a little after 4 pm that day, it seemed that he had an answer. 

He’d gone back to work, locating and interviewing the witness he’d needed to. After that, though, the conversation with Victor had replayed in his mind, and Tim began to do what he did best: investigate. 

He knew your ex’s first name, and thanks to the PI, knew more about his past.

It wasn’t difficult to find his social media pages and scroll through them on his phone from the front seat of the vehicle he used while working. It was even less trouble for Tim to find out where the man worked, the training facility only a few minutes away from the station. Small fucking world. 

He was done with work for the day - back in his own car, and had shed both the jacket and tie, tossing them into his backseat. His shoulder holsters were gone, too, tucked safely into the case he used for transporting his service weapons between home and the office. His badge was in the glove box, though, where he always kept it for easy access. I’m not here as a cop. I’m here as … 

Tim didn’t know quite what you were to him. At that point, the most correct term would have been friend, since you were still getting  to know each other. But that doesn’t feel… He sighed, both hands rising to his head and tugging on his hair. It could be more than that. Easily. 

He liked you - liked talking to you and seeing you, liked getting messages from you that helped to break up the hours of his workday. He liked having you in his house, and even enjoyed the sight of you in his kitchen, something that hadn’t been the case with other women that he’d dated. The fact that he liked you as much as he did made all of the reasons he’d told himself that the two of you getting closer was a bad idea seem less important. 

In a lot of situations, someone like Ryan being in the picture would have deterred him quickly. With you, it did the opposite. 

You being single  wasn’t a case of uncertainty or indecision. It wasn’t that the breakup was recent, and that you were waiting to see whether or not your ex wanted you back. Tim had spent years working cases with people in your situation - and seeing what the potential outcomes were from friends and loved ones. He didn’t want you to be a statistic. And she won’t be, not if I can do anything about it. 

There was risk when it came to what he was doing, and he knew it, but he was willing to take the repercussions, even if it meant you were upset with him. “Get ahead of it.” He tapped both thumbs on the steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the front doors of the facility. The online schedule said that Ryan was available for training sessions until 4 pm, which meant that he’d likely leave shortly afterward. If he doesn’t, I’ll just go home.

And thanks to the fact that the man had gotten a speeding ticket the previous year, it hadn’t taken more than a simple search through the database to find out Ryan’s license plate number and vehicle make and model. It was borderline abuse of his access capability, but the information he’d learned was no more invasive than information that you - or anyone else that knew the man - could have given him. And this is as far as it goes. 

He didn’t know what he was going to say when and if he saw the man, but in Tim’s experience, things typically went better if he didn’t operate on a script. And what’s the script for this anyway? Groaning, he rubbed his eyes. You’ve got yourself into some deep shit now, Rockford. 

Staring back at the door, Tim watched as a small group of people exited - two women and a younger man, an older woman and one that looked like her daughter, and a muscular man with dark blonde hair that held a phone up to his ear as he walked, a large drawstring bag slung over one shoulder. There he is. 

Grinding his teeth together, Tim glanced down at the envelope that was tucked between the passenger seat and center console and then moved his hand to the door handle. Here we go. The air outside of his car was warm, thanks to a cloudless sky, but Tim was chilled as he crossed the parking lot, heading a few spots down to where the man’s obnoxiously expensive sports car was parked.

“Hey.” He stepped to the front of the car, arms hanging loosely by his sides, but the blonde didn’t look up. “Ryan.” There was still no acknowledgement, and as Tim rolled his eyes in annoyance, he used the other man’s full name, taking another stride forward. “I need to talk to you.”

“Sorry, man, if you want to sign up for sessions, you’re to have to talk to Addie. She’s at the front desk right now, and she’ll -”

“I don’t want to sign up for anything. I want to talk about why you think it’s alright to stalk someone just because they don’t want to date you anymore.” That got Ryan’s attention, the man finally glancing up, the set of his jaw tight. Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

“Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you -” Tim stepped closer as Ryan stared down, mindful of the fact that the other man had an easy few inches - and about 50 pounds - on him. “You fuckin’ her?” He slipped the phone into his pocket and narrowed his eyes. “Can’t think of any other reason someone would be out here saying this shit to me.” 

“Even if I was, it wouldn’t matter.” Tim straightened his shoulders. “You’re not together. What she does and who she’s with aren’t your business anymore.” Ryan’s eyes flashed in the late afternoon sun, but Tim kept going. “Anyone that resorts to hiring someone to invade another person’s privacy is an asshole. But someone that does it to keep tabs after the other person’s made it crystal fucking clear they want nothing to do with you makes you a special kind of asshole.” 

“And what are you going to do about it? Are you threatening me?” He crossed his arms and Tim had to fight back another roll of his eyes at the motion - entirely meant to be intimidating. “Do you know who I am?” 

“I do. And if you think that the fact that you played in the NFL for a couple months on some team’s practice squad a decade ago is going to intimidate me, you’re wrong.” Tim shook his head, frowning. “And as for what I’m going to do about it?” He smiled, the expression sliding slowly across his face. “All I need to do is tell her what you’re doing. No one can stop you from throwing your money away for some useless information, but at the very least she should know it’s happening.” He watched Ryan’s nostrils flare, the man shifting back and forth in place. Good. You should be pissed. “And who knows, when she finds out, maybe she’ll let everyone else in her life know you’re doing it, too. Maybe she’ll tell them that you had to resort to having someone else watch her because she didn’t want you around. Maybe -”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Ryan laughed, his upper lip curling as he pointed at Tim, one thick finger only inches from the center of the man’s chest. “Threatening me?” 

“I’m someone that understands what it means when a relationship ends. I’m someone that wouldn’t ever invade someone’s privacy in the way you are right now. “ He wet his lips, fighting the urge to settle one hand on his hip and instead left them hanging at his sides. “And I’m going to tell her. It’s not a threat. It’s a fact.” 

“She won’t believe you.” Ryan’s laugh was short and bitter, almost acrid to Tim’s ears. “I’ve never seen you before in my life, which means you didn’t know her until after we split. You think she’s going to believe someone she just met without proof? Fat fuckin’ chance.”

It was Tim’s turn to laugh, the sound a quiet chuckle that faded as he slipped both hands into his pockets, shrugging. “That’s what you think? Alright. Go right ahead and keep thinking that way. We’ll see what happens.” Tim blinked twice, keeping his eyes on the other man’s face. “Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time. You have a good afternoon, Ryan.” 

He spun on one heel, half expecting the other man to follow him to where he’d parked. But when Tim slid back into the driver’s seat of his car, Ryan was gone. Sliding the key into the ignition and starting the engine, Tim finally let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Shit. That was … was that a mistake? 

Pulling out of the parking spot, Tim headed for the exit, risking a peek at Ryan’s vehicle as he passed it - the blonde man’s frame visible in the driver’s seat. Is he going to follow me? He kept an eye out as he turned onto the main road and then the entire way back to his place, but didn’t see any sign of it. Figures. 

After parking in his garage, Tim paused in the kitchen long enough to slam both fists onto the kitchen counter, one loud “fuck! escaping as he leaned forward. Telling you what was going on hadn’t ever been just a threat. Giving you a warning was the least he could do, and even though he knew that it would likely put a damper on the night, he planned on doing it as soon as he saw you. Because she deserves it. She - 

His thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his phone from his back pocket. Tim stood up and reached for it, taking a deep breath - and then froze when he saw your name on the screen. He closed his eyes and let the breath out as he answered, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?” 

“What the fuck did you do?” You sounded almost hysterical, and Tim’s heart lurched at the tone of your voice. “I’m still at work and I just got a call from Ryan. He said you showed up at his job today and threatened him in the parking lot.” Well part of that is correct, but - “And he also said that you made it a big deal that you and I have been sleeping together, so he needed to stop trying to -”

“Whoa.” Tim said your name, stepping away from the counter and tightening his grip on the phone. “I didn’t say any of that.” You laughed, but he could hear the uncertainty on your end. Does she really believe him?  He dragged the fingers of his free hand through his hair, heading for the stairs. “I -”

“You think that just because I invited you over, you can tell people that we’re … we went out on one date, and you kissed me, but that doesn’t -” Oh, this asshole. 

“Will you let me explain?” Tim was in his room, rifling through the hangers in his closet. “I know you’re upset. I can only imagine what he said to you, but I need you to know that it isn’t the truth.” You paused, your end of the line going quiet. Ok, that’s good. She’s listening. “I just walked into my house. I can be at your place when you get home. Or if you’d rather meet me somewhere that isn’t your apartment, I understand that too.” 

The thought of the invitation being rescinded stung, but when you spoke next, he heard a glimmer of hope in your words. “If you didn’t say any of that, then why is …” You sighed. “Ok. Alright. You can come here, but … but if he’s telling the truth, then…”

“If you give me the chance to tell you what happened, and then you’re still mad at me, I’ll leave. I promise. I just need a couple minutes.” You were silent for almost thirty seconds and then you agreed, Tim’s shoulders sagging at the sound of it. Thank fuck. 

“Ok. I’ll be home a little after 5, if you want to meet me.” You sighed. “There’s a parking lot next to the leasing office, and benches by the lake. We can sit there.” And then you can decide if you want to invite me up. I get it. 

“Ok.” He nodded, pulling a clean shirt off of the hanger and tossing it onto his bed. “I’ll see you then.” 

You hung up without saying anything else, and Tim spent a few seconds staring at his silent phone, frowning. He understood your anger. He got the fear you felt at the thought that he was making insinuations about your relationship with your ex to goad the man into action. But what Tim didn’t know was if the simple contact - and the feelings that it caused for you - were enough to derail the tentative connection that the two of you had before it had a chance to strengthen. It won’t be. 

Tim set his phone onto the bed and then undid his belt and started to unbutton his dress shirt. As he focused on that, he tried not to let himself think too hard about whether or not the next time he saw you would be the last.  It won’t be. He tossed the shirt into the hamper and then undid the button on his pants, sliding them down his legs. It can’t be. 

After sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tim balanced his elbows atop his knees and leaned forward, both hands covering his face. There was a feeling growing in his gut that he didn’t recognize; something twisted and anxious, spreading with each moment that he waited in silence. He’d worked countless cases with uncertain outcomes - and even more with known endings that hadn’t made him feel so uneasy. And here I am, like this because of … 

He hadn’t known you for long, but with a sharp intake of breath, Tim shot upright, the fingers of both hands curling into fists. The cases weren’t personal, and his involvement with 99% of them ended the moment they did - feelings and emotions left behind when he shed the work clothes and stepped away from his desk after signing off on final reports. But you were personal, and on Tim’s mind both on the job and when he was at home, relaxing on the couch or laying in bed. And I don’t want to lose that. 

Tim swallowed hard and stood, nodding his head. She’ll listen. She’ll understand. Removing his undershirt and throwing it on top of the other one in the hamper, he turned and reached for the one on his bed, pulling it on. Scratching at his scalp with one hand, Tim glanced in the mirror, trying to relax, even a little. “Cool it, Rockford. It’s gonna be alright.” It has to be.

But even as he spoke the words out loud, the crease between his brows  remained - as did the unsettled feeling in his gut. 

— 

 Tag list coming soon!