#he didn’t even tell us what he does i just managed to clock him

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Actually obsessed with my new coworker at the farm ajdkalsl

[your-local-simp-writers]

Puppy Love

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: None

Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It was a typical day after school, one of those rare moments when Damian Wayne wasn’t caught up in some sort of mission or training. The clock ticked loudly in the classroom as you stared at your class partner. Damian was sitting at his desk, meticulously packing up his things, his movements precise, as always. He had a habit of folding his papers just so, making sure everything was in perfect order before leaving. It was almost funny how much effort he put into something so mundane.

You tapped your pen on the desk, your mind bouncing with energy, as it always did. You had an idea, a crazy, spontaneous idea. The kind of idea you always had, but this time, you had to share it with him.

"Damian," you said brightly, leaning across the desk just enough to catch his attention. He glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if preparing himself for whatever your next move was. You grinned, already knowing what he was thinking. “Do you want to go to the fair?”

His brow furrowed. “The fair?” he repeated, clearly skeptical. “I’m not sure how that could be beneficial to anything.”

You waved a hand, dismissing his doubts. “It’s just a bit of fun. You know, something different. Besides, you can’t always be training or brooding, right?”

Damian looked at you for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, an exaggerated gesture you’d gotten used to. “I don’t see the point in such... frivolity,” he said, though there was an edge of curiosity beneath the words.

You didn’t give him time to think about it. You knew he would overanalyze it otherwise. “Come on, just for a little while. You could use some downtime, and it’s not like Gotham doesn’t need a break from your endless seriousness. You’re my class partner, right? It’s just a few hours of normal fun. You’ve done worse, I promise.”

You could see the inner conflict playing out in his eyes—the part of him that was trained to be a warrior, never wasting a moment, battling with the part that was slowly learning to open up to new experiences. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I will accompany you to this... ‘fair,’” he said, his voice still laced with skepticism.

...

The fair was a short drive outside of Gotham, tucked away just beyond the noise and chaos of the city. You could tell the difference immediately, as soon as the car tires left the paved roads and hit the dirt paths leading to the fairgrounds. There was a certain charm to the place, something rustic and simple, so different from the bustling streets of Gotham or the towering Wayne mansion.

The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the rows of booths, food carts, and brightly colored rides. The scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and music echoed around the fairground. It was the kind of place where people went to escape from the grind of daily life, to enjoy the fleeting moments of joy that came with a simple carnival game or a ride on the Ferris wheel.

You could see Damian’s unease as you both walked toward the entrance. His eyes darted around, taking in the overwhelming sights, sounds, and people. It wasn’t quite the same as the controlled environment he was used to. But you didn’t give him time to overthink it. You grabbed his arm, pulling him toward one of the booths.

“You’re going to love the ring toss,” you said with a grin, all too eager to get him involved.

“Ring toss?” he repeated, the skepticism still clear in his voice. “What purpose does this serve?”

“It’s fun,” you insisted, though you knew he wasn’t convinced. Still, you managed to drag him over to the booth. The game was simple enough—throw rings over bottles. It was a childish game, but you loved it, and you hoped Damian would catch on to the idea of letting go, even if just for a moment.

He stood with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. "You really think I can waste my time on this?"

You gave him a sidelong glance and a teasing smile. "Well, it’s not about wasting time. It’s about... I don’t know, enjoying the moment."

He didn’t look at you, but he did take a few rings and line them up, aiming carefully. You grinned to yourself. Even when he was trying to act all serious, his precision couldn’t be denied.

With a flick of his wrist, one of the rings flew through the air, landing perfectly on a bottle. You raised your eyebrows, impressed.

“Nice,” you said. “You’re better at this than you let on.”

Damian didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he picked up another ring. “I don’t do things halfheartedly,” he muttered, almost to himself. “If I’m going to do something, I do it properly.”

You watched him, a strange warmth spreading in your chest. The boy was so driven, so serious, yet you couldn’t help but admire his determination. It was rare for him to let his guard down, and even rarer for him to admit that something could be fun.

Soon enough, you had won a small stuffed bear, and Damian had reluctantly agreed to take it from you. You held it to your chest, practically skipping to the next attraction.

“What now?” he asked, clearly still unsure.

"Let’s ride the Ferris wheel," you said, already making your way toward the line.

He didn’t protest, which surprised you. Damian was a creature of habit and control. He liked to know what was coming next, not to be thrown into something unfamiliar. But here he was, following you as you led him toward the towering wheel. It was slow-moving and simple, but you could tell the height of the ride was making him a little uneasy.

Once you were both in your seat, the Ferris wheel creaked to life. The world below you began to shrink, the lights of the fair twinkling in the distance, and the sky above grew dark as the stars started to emerge, one by one. You glanced over at Damian, who was staring out at the lights, his face unreadable.

“You know, it’s nice up here,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Don’t you ever just sit outside and stare at the stars? It’s so peaceful.”

Damian turned his head toward you, his expression stiff. “I prefer to watch... other things,” he said, his tone flat, almost as though he hadn’t really considered the question. “While I’m at it, I watch the bumper-to-bumper traffic and listen to the sounds of car horns and sirens.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his dry sarcasm. “That is exactly why I like to be in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no sirens, no deadlines. Just peace.”

Damian looked at you, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Peace,” he echoed, then gave a short huff. “I don’t know that I would describe Gotham as anything remotely peaceful.”

“Well, I’ll take peaceful over chaotic any day,” you said, your eyes drifting back to the sky, the colors of the fireworks beginning to light up the air. You handed him a stick of cotton candy, offering it with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think you could use a little fun, Damian. Maybe the world won’t end if you just enjoy the moment.”

He hesitated, eyeing the fluffy treat in your hand before taking a cautious bite. His eyes flickered back to you, his voice quieter this time. “Fun. I’m not sure I remember what that feels like.”

You blinked, surprised at the admission. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You were so used to seeing Damian with his walls up, his rigid control always in place, that hearing him admit something so vulnerable took you off guard.

“Well, maybe now’s a good time to start remembering,” you said, your voice soft. “There’s a lot more to life than training and working.”

Damian didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he continued to chew his cotton candy in silence, staring out at the fireworks. You could tell, even without the words, that he was beginning to relax, if only for a moment.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence, the fireworks exploding around you in bursts of color. It was a strange thing, this peacefulness, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Damian begin to melt into the experience. For once, he wasn’t the brooding, serious heir to Wayne Enterprises. For once, he was just a boy—your class partner, Damian—enjoying the simple joy of a fair.

As the ride finally came to a stop and you both made your way back to solid ground, you felt a strange warmth between you both, something unspoken but real. You hadn’t just taken him to a fair—you’d taken him to a moment where he could simply be Damian, and for the first time, he seemed to appreciate it.

“Not so bad, huh?” you teased as you walked side by side.

Damian glanced at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps... just this once.”

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 7 - Black N' White Knight

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Dick tells Tim, hand carting through his hair. The two of them are in the kitchen, at the breakfast bar. Tim sitting in front of his laptop with his legs crossed, and Dick tapping one foot agitatedly against the marble floor. While Tim might not be grinning ear to ear, it’s pretty obvious for anyone who knows him that he’s delighted by the tale Dick just regaled to him.

And what a tale it was. He hasn’t seen you in a year and a half, and then when he does, he finds you teary eyed staring at a picture of him shirtless at the gym. Bruce had always told him the way he played with the paparazzi would come to bite him in the ass one day, but he really can’t say he expected… that.

Obviously, it had to be a prank. That’s his first thought. That’s his only thought, really. What other explanation could there be? An accident? Maybe you’d forgotten what his room looked like. It wasn’t like he kept much personal stuff in his Wayne manor room, the only markers his clothes and the letters he kept in his drawer from his parents.

And you were wearing his clothes, of all things. He’d be surprised if you forgot how much of a Superman fanboy he was, seeing as he’d spent many hours ranting to you before the explosion. So, a prank. A show of good will, an olive branch maybe? It was more likely you were just fucking with his head, as you’d done in the past. Never like this, though.

This was just… bizarre.

“I can’t either,” and of course, Tim sounds near estatic saying that. The love of chaos ran true in that one.

Dick had managed to wrangle his life under control a few years back, and despite the universe seeming to try to unravel it at the seams, he was indisposed to let it simply happen. Even if you of all people had changed. No, Dick was getting older, and he was finding his taste for chaos a lot more… limited.

He didn’t want to suffer it’s affects. He was currently suffering it’s affects.

“I knew something was going on when she showed up to the party, but this…” Tim pauses, leaning back in his chair, “It’s gotta be a prank, right?”

It said a lot about their family that this was all the assumption they defaulted to.

“It could be something else. Did you even take her to the hospital after?” Dick offers instead, overthinking as always. This situation seemed to be made for overthinking, though.

Tim hums. “No, we did not.”

Then he turns his stare to Dick, like he’s expecting something from him.

“Seriously?”

“What? You’re the friendly one.”

Dick very much did his best to seem like the friendly one, at least. Tim was well aware it was a complete farce, though. Dick was nice but he could also be a bit… well… a bit of a dick. Another thing he’d been trying to overcome. He was doing better than when he’d been seven, at least.

Dick sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead, “I’d probably just end up accidentally nagging her, and then she’d never speak to me again.”

“That’s not my problem,” Tim shrugs, glancing back down at his laptop and squinting.

“It is, actually. Because if she stopped talking to me you’d probably be the next one till the girls and Duke came home who has to talk to her.”

“She could talk to Jay,” Tim offers, because he’s a shithead. Dick bets he did the same with Bruce, “And besides, I’m busy doing surveillance.”

“You mean stalking.”

“I do it to everybody, stop making such a big deal out of it.”

Dick sighs again.

“Hm, you might want to check your phone,” Tim says, in a way that suggests he has once again tapped the network. Keeping him out of Dick’s private life was like Sisyphus and his boulder. He still wasn't going to give up, and the time Tim and Steph mercilessly bullied him for getting dumped over text had made him all the more so.

‘Dont_try’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

“Please, tell me you sent that and are just messing with me,” Dick begs, staring down at his phone in mild despair. Chaos. Always fucking chaos. Despite how hard he tried, he could not keep his family out of trouble. God damn it, when he’d gotten this job he’d been the one made for trouble. Where did he go wrong?

“Honestly, sounds like the sort of thing I’d do, but the girl just got bitch slapped so I really think you should respond fast.”

“What?!”

“She’s fine now, run to the bathrooms I think. You know for such an upstate place you’d think they had better camera positioning,” Tim mutters, complaining that he can’t watch every single little movement you make. Dick thinks he should probably worry about this, as it’s a clear sign of another decline for his sanity, but he’s now got this shit to deal with.

“Why, Tim? What is going on? Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Hm?” he’s engrossed by the computer, “Ah, the shitty boyfriend… some soup- ha, how is she such a clutz? Maybe we should get her head checked again- and… an altercation of some kind? I don’t know, I can’t see it properly.”

Dick leans forward in his stool, clasped hands covering his face for a moment.

“Are you going to reply? If you don’t soon, she’ll probably make it a bigger shitshow,” Tim says, nudging his foot against Dick’s. Dick, good big brother that he is, takes a deep breath and steadies himself. Even if this is really not what he wanted for his holiday, he’s dealt with much, much worse.

The press will have forgotten about this within the week. You, however, likely not. He’d promised to help you all those years ago, and even if he had no idea why you were reaching out to him, or if you would even be amicable when you met again, he’d still damn well do it.

He glances back down at his phone.

“What is going on?” Dick repeats to himself, and Tim’s head cocks to the side. There’s that familiar cat that got the cream grin spreading across his younger brother’s face, and it just really isn’t welcome right now.

“Intrigued yet?”

Unfortunately for both him, Tim and especially you, Dick already was.

He’s in his car in five minutes flat, finger tapping against the premium leather wheel. The sound of it is the only thing that manages to keep him sane.

Riding up to the place, Dick realises that no, maybe the press won’t be over this within the week. Considering the amount of paparazzi swarming the place, he doubted you’d be free for at least a few months. To be fair, the mysterious ex-wayne making such a scene was a bit of a big deal. Before you’d been basically invisible, despite your immense wealth and past.

Invisible? Dick thinks he spots at least twenty cameras. And that’s not even mentioning all the phones inside that would’ve gotten up close videos of whatever happened. Their legal team would handle it fine, that which Barbara or Tim couldn’t wipe from the face of the earth. And that was very little, all things considered.

Dick has to push past the calls of his name, ignoring all the intrusive questions volleyed his way like the pro he was. He still makes sure to listen carefully and store away every vital bit of information, as well as remember the logos on the film crew’s van. Eventually he makes his way to the front of the line, and the flustered front of house immediately recognises his face and sweeps him inside. Dick ducks in with a thankful smile, which he admits, falters when he enters the scene.

A scene which you are not in. Your gold digging boyfriend was, though. Of all the things Dick regrets with you, it’s not breaking the horrid relationship the two of you had apart. Or well, the fact that you totally, loudly hated his guts. He was a sensitive guy, y’know!

He sees your terribly boyfriend - George, Dick remembers - raging at some poor servers, and he knows he need to go sweep in and save the pour soul. It’ll be a hard fight, he can already tell.

Before he does so, he sends a quick text to his phone.

Underwear_guy: Where are you?

Don’t_try: I’ll be right out.

Shockingly, that was the truth. You come striding into the restaurant, and immediately all eyes are on you. It makes you stutter-step. Dick can see you visibly stiffen up, before you manage to gather your courage and keep walking. You don’t even pay him a single glance as you walk straight towards your fuming boyfriend.

You try to whisper, keeping your voice quiet and your conversation private. The boyfriend seems uninterested in the idea.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” he cuts you off.

You glance around, and then say something else. It seems like you’re trying to defuse the situation, but George seems uninterested by the idea. 

“This behaviour is ridiculous. You need to get it together, we’re in public!” he yells, like he isn’t the one causing a scene. He seems to be trying to intimidate you back into silence. But today and well, yesterday too, something is different about you.

Okay, that’s enough of that. Dick’s intervening.

“You cheated on me! You deserve it and everything that’s coming to you!”

Or, uh, maybe you’ve got it covered.

-

George’s shocked face is almost worse than when you literally bit him. Guess he expected you to be a bit more demure after that encounter. He should know better, the other version of you seemed to have been even more spiteful in nature.

Today again, you prove you are a less than stellar person. You’d stopped caring about George as soon as you’d discovered he’d cheated, but you were still angry. Not jealous, but furious. Bubbling up your throat, rage and bile and the urge to attack him once again, even if you just want to go home.

Your teeth grind. Your jaw ticks. And oddly, you realise you have a real taste for George Lancaster’s limbs.

Though your life had changed (literally) in the past few days, you were still the same girl from your first twenty-first. You wanted George Lancaster to suffer. Even more so, now that the evil cunt had hit you right in the face. The hit had stunned you, though. More emotionally than physically, but it had shocked you.

You couldn’t say you were a coward. You’d spent far too many days in your teenage years indulging in self-destructive behaviours to think that. But something about this pathetic man was scaring the shit out of you. You think that made you more pathetic, but you couldn’t quite tell. That’d be victim blaming, right?

You did have a habit of blaming yourself. It was just usually your fault.

…Maybe you shouldn’t have bit him, no matter how much the response was instinctual or his screech was satisfying. This was all too confusing, all too much. You needed to get back to your apartment, lock the doors and barricade them so nobody bothers you. And then maybe hibernate for a week. You needed some time to process all the stupid bullshit you were experiencing. The wayne manor was too much, your horrible white apartment was too much, George fucking Lancaster was too fucking god damn much.

You take a deep breath, and manage to stop yourself from bolting like a deer. Deal with the problem at hand. Deal with it now, deal with it!

“I’m leaving, and we are done. It’s that simple,” you tell George, trying to drill in a message that he seems unable to comprehend. At this point you’d assume he’d be trying to apologise, manipulate back into his good graces, but you think you might’ve completely broke him. Broke the script.

Good. That was damn well good.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else at least?” George replies, eyes flicking to Richard Grayson’s angry gaze. At least you think he’s angry. You can’t quite gather the courage to look directly at him.

Also, there’s the manipulation! You wish you weren’t right this time.

“Sure, but I’m bringing him, and my answer will absolutely not change. You hit me.”

“You bit me!”

Well, yeah, not your best moment. You don’t think you can regret it, though.

“Then I think this relationship is ending on equal terms,” you reply, trying your best to just get him to quit it. It is obviously not working by the way his expression darkens.

“I’ll tell the press everything,” George threatens, which, well, is sort of a shitty threat because I don’t even know what he’s threatening. ‘Everything’? Couldn’t he be a bit more specific?

You shrug. It is the wrong response, you know it is, but you’ve completely ran dry of fucks to give. Couldn’t be much worse than the bullshit happening right now. The press were already very well fed, considering the situation that was today. George makes a small sound of fury.

“We’ll sue,” Richard Grayson, the white knight that you’d daydreamed about, comes to your rescue. Is it odd that it’s kind of flustering? You probably shouldn’t be flustered.

George immediately snaps his gaze to Grayson’s, giving the man a look with a healthy dose of fear. Couldn’t blame the guy. Even if he was the second smallest of the three remaining brothers, he was still well known for being strong. His family often did kick-boxing, and their sister, Cass, often whooped their asses. It was sort of satisfying to watch. Anyway, his physical prowess from fighting to weirdo gymnastic bullshit was evident in his svelte build.

George was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. With just the one threat from the Waynes legal team, he skitters away like the little rat you know him to be. He leaves the restaurant, and he very obviously does not pay or even leave a tip. You suppose you have the cash to make up for it. Then, ignoring the paparazzi, you were technically home free. You glance to the side. Richard Grayson’s beautiful face looks a mix of confuddled, frustrated, and exhausted. He still saved you, though, even after the fool you made of yourself.

White knight, indeed. It almost feels a bit anticlimactic, but it’s the results you wanted. And yet, an ominous feeling befalls you. Somehow, you don’t feel you’ve seen the last of George Lancaster. You just really hope the old you hadn’t committed any crimes. A tabloid? Humiliating, but livable. Prison? Not so much.

Not that the rich stayed in prison in Gotham, or even the rest of the world. It was kind of strange to realise you were sort of above the law now.

You glance at Dick, pulling your uncomfortably wet shirt away from your chest. You’ve sort of been bled dry of any shits you could give at this point, so you decide, very maturely, to make jokes and ignore all your problems. It had gotten you this far.

You’d seen this behaviour before. Many, many times. It was what usually got you fired. But now you didn’t really have to worry about that, so why should you worry about causing a scene and ruining your life a bit more? It wasn’t yours, after all.

“What do you think?” you joke, elbowing Dick. He looks down from glaring at the entrance George just slipped out of, to you. His blue eyes are a damn near shock to the soul. It takes everything in you not to start fidgeting.

“Think of what?” he responds, and despite how hard you try, you can not read his expression.

“I’m trying to make some more news. Don’t think the reporters got enough the other day,” you say, gesturing to the giant stain. It’s still Dick’s shirt. You hadn’t realised till now, but the Beatles was now some sort of green soup. Is it kind of gross of you to acknowledge that at least the soup smelled good?

Probably. You didn’t actually get to eat anything here. It’s also probably a bit weird that you’re thinking about eating at a time like this. Probably.

“I think you’ve done enough, honestly,” he says, glancing at the camera flashes from outside.

He sounds exactly like your mother, it’s almost uncanny. Well, this version of him technically knew her. You’re still not sure how well en-meshed your two families had been before the disaster, but maybe he’d picked up some traits from her.

…That… you’re not sure how to feel about the idea. The old green monster bubbles up at the thought, and you can’t tell if you’re jealous your mum got to meet Dick Grayson, or that Dick Grayson might’ve gotten to know your mum.

“We should leave,” he says, cutting off your bitter inner thoughts, “I know you don’t like it when the magazines bother you.”

You don’t? You don’t. Yes, that makes sense, ‘you’ definitely wouldn’t have. And it’s not like you feel comfortable with them either. In fact, if you think about the fact your drowned rat appearance will be on every tabloid in the city by tomorrow, probably alongside photos from your birthday, you feel so nauseous you could collapse. Going to compartmentalise that one.

“Yes, going, let’s go,” you say, following Dick out of the restaurant.

Despite the fact that the security guards are trying their best, it’s getting quite rowdy out here. When Dick wraps an arm around your shoulder, shielding you with his body, you almost just pass out right there. His muscles… Your heart simply can’t take it. As it is, Dick notices you jump like a foot in the air, and backs off. He still makes sure to try and protect you from their vision as much as possible.

Still, in an act that is purely rebellious, you turn and give them a big smile and a wave. Even as you hate every single person on the other side of the divide, you want to make one thing very clear. You will not be cowed by someone like George fucking Lancaster. Your peace sign and wink are a message to them, to him, and to yourself.

Despite the fact that this new life is one you have no idea how to handle, you know one thing. Put on a face, and it’ll always be easier.

Dick is probably wondering what the hell happened to you for you to be acting this way. Your shirt has a giant stain on it, you just broke up with your cheating boyfriend, went through a traumatising experience just a few days ago, and you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. This behaviour speaks more and more of a full blown mental breakdown. And it’s not the first you’ve had or the last.

There’s paparazzi snapping thousands of photos of the two of you, and instead of shying away as ‘you’ used to, you throw up a peace sign. One of the papps drops their camera. That confuses you a bit, as your peace sign deflates slightly. Didn’t they want more pictures? Weren’t you supposed to pose…?

For all you stalked celebrities online, you realise you have no idea how to pretend to be one. This is going to become an issue, you can already tell.

He points at a car, and you assume it’s his because he starts making his way over. He’s obviously done this sort of thing before, using and guiding the security with a smooth confidence. Even still, the two of you are a bit too close for comfort.

Which you prove, by putting your foot directly in your mouth.

“I don’t have abs, but do you think the press would like my stomach like they like yours?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. Another poor joke. You are deflecting so hard. And why the hell did you bring that up, you dunce? You feel your brain cells draining the more you’re around this guy, it’s not healthy for you.

“Please don’t pull your shirt up in public,” Dick sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. It’s spreading, like the plague. You’re patient zero, of course. Even still he gets you guys to the car, and opens the side door for you. You follow his wordless command and slip into the passenger seat.

“I won’t. Sorry, sorry,” you reply, to relieve him of some of the trauma you’re currently inflicting.

He glances back to the papps, and then back down at you. His smile bowls you over like he’s getting the last strike in a fucking 300. He genuinely is the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen. Thankfully, he closes the door so you have a moment to gather your sanity before he goes around the car and gets in the driver’s seat.

You hope you’re subtle when you shift away from him slightly. It shouldn’t be that surprising really. You were stupid on average. You would be stupider around attractive people. You would be frankly disastrous around someone as blastingly hot as Dick Grayson. The Waynes in general turned you into a drooling idiot.

Good god, you need to get out of this car. As soon as you think that, Dick is pulling away from the parking spot and out onto the streets. He makes slow progress because Gotham traffic, but eventually you manage to flee the horrifying stares of the cameras. Already you can tell it’ll be giving you nightmares. Probably along with images of the guy who tried to rape you and Damian Wayne sneering at you.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Despite how you wish it not, Mr. Grayson decides he’s going to start a conversation with you.

“Good,” you reply, the answer instinctive and an obvious lie.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare return it.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, and his voice is gentle. Sort of infantilising if you’ll be honest.

While it is very clear to anyone who looks at you that you have no idea what you’re doing, you’d rather he didn’t bring it up. You’ll figure it out. You’ve always managed to figure it out. This is what you get for asking for help. Really, despite your momentary panic you could’ve taken George. Probably not physically, but…

“You can talk to me if you want, you know?”

“Can you stop the car, please?” you respond, when that question immediately activates your fight or flight response. Dick must notice something about you, because he quickly shoots forward and into a momentarily available parking spot.

You scramble with the door, shoving your way back out onto the asphalt. The immediate distinct smell of Gotham, even Gotham’s richer districts, calms you down. Sewage, the ocean, and the ever present smoke and fog.

Fuck’s sake. You aren’t making yourself look anymore well put together.

Clearing your throat, you turn and find Richard Grayson coming around the car hood towards you. There’s a worried look in his eyes, and you really don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like you made a deal with the devil. By getting rid of George, you’d gotten a new problem - and an infinitely more complicated one.

Shit, you need to stop making rash decisions when you’re having panic attacks. You’d say you should probably try and stop having panic attacks entirely, but you don’t really know how to do that.

The sound of your name has you snapping back to attention. Dick looks even more worried.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, taking a few slow steps towards you. Again, infantilizing. Like you’re a wild animal about to run. Wait, weren’t you just comparing yourself to a chihuahua? Well, it’s not the same when other people do it.

“I’d like to take a walk,” you say, hand scrunching into your pyjama pants, “Alone, I’d like some time alone.”

“…In that?” He glances down at the stain that is slowly starting to dry. It’s making your skin itchy, but at least it’s not as cold.

“I can buy something,” you say, remembering one of the apps on your phone was connected to your bank account, which you had to assume was pretty full. It’s kind of stupid that you haven’t checked that yet.

You’re starting to feel a bit defensive towards your own intelligence. Maybe it’s because you seemingly keep making all the worst decisions.

Dick doesn’t make it any better.

“Do you have cash on you?” he asks, showing how little faith he has in your general abilities to survive as an adult in Gotham.

“I do, I’ll be fine,” you insist, because god damn it, you will be. You just need a fucking minute.

You ran from the Wayne manor because you felt like you were being watched, and then as soon as you showed up at the world’s most uncomfortable apartment, the haunting wraith known as George dragged you out in your P.J.s. You could figure it the fuck out, if these people would give you some fucking space.

Richard Grayson seems to realise that you’re getting upset, because he goes quiet for a moment. After staring at you for a moment longer, for which you manage to find the courage to maintain eye contact through pure stubborn will, he asks you one final question.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home or something?” he asks, still seeming so determined to help you.

His suggestion brings flashes of images of you breaking down in front of the Bruce Wayne to mind. From almost a birds eye view, you see yourself sobbing against your own ruined dress as the billionaire looked on. Bile literally jumps up your throat, and it takes a lot of willpower not to grimace at the suggestion.

“Look, Mr. Grayson, I really appreciate-”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that.”

Once again, you feel the urge to simply sprint away from your own problems, but you manage to hold yourself still. Still, you can’t think of a solution. You can’t really think much of anything. Instead you stare at Richard Grayson with your hands threaded together and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Though you open your mouth to speak, you find you have no excuses ready or available. You’ve talked yourself into a corner already, and it’s your third day in this world. Marvellous. Maybe you should just tell the truth.

Still, the dangers outweigh the pros. They don’t know you, they don’t have any real reason to take care of you. If they believe you, they’ll toss you out onto the streets penniless. And if they don’t-

You blink. There’s a highway sign behind Dick, and it catches your attention like a lightning bolt. ‘Arkham Asylum 800 miles’. It’s white blocky letters on green panelling feels like a sign from god, warning you from the path you consider taking.

And then you realise that you might actually get sent to Arkham if you say anything, and you resolve to never tell a single soul about what has happened to you. You’ve heard enough stories about the asylum, and by god, you are not being roommates with the fucking Joker of all people.

Eventually Dick realises he’s not getting anything out of you and he sighs, shaking his head. His annoyingly perfect hair mesmerises you for a second, but you manage to wrangle your brain back under control. He really doesn’t make it easy.

“I just want to know if you’re safe. If you’re going through anything, you know we’re always happy to help-”

“Dick,” you say his name, face twisting in discomfort, “This was a… a one time thing. Usually I can handle my problems. It just… it caught me off guard. George cheating was a huge shock, and I needed someone to stand by me.”

“And you know I always will, right?”

Ah. That’s… Dick Grayson was a stranger. You didn’t know him, and more than that he did not know you. He did not know what you would do, could do. You didn’t think anyone did, not even yourself.

It’s a silly idea to expect your celebrity crush to save you, and it’s one you find you can’t stomach it at the moment. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself at the idea. It’s too indulgent, too silly. It’s very simply, not possible.

You’ve given up on relying on miracles. These lessons had been beaten into you, really. You didn’t want to have to learn them again.

Your feelings must show on your face.

Dick lets out a whoosh of air, frustration palpable. He carts his hand through his hair. It still looks perfect. The world is unfair, yadda yadda.

“You run hot and cold, you know?” he gives you a grin. It says a lot about his ability to act, seeing as it seems almost natural. Almost, being the key word.

Also, he is absolutely correct. The chihuahua effect is in full-swing. And you know what? You are probably going to continue to run hot and cold, because you’ve never made a decision in your life. He’ll just have to get used to it.

You raise your hands and shrug, in the universal ‘what-can-you-do?’ motion. He wasn’t wrong. You were being completely erratic. Not even you knew what you’d do next. At least life isn’t boring these days, right Right? You wonder who you are trying to fool, because it’s certainly not yourself.

“I’ll contact you if I need anything,” you lie, because it seems to be the right thing to end this torturous conversation, “And I’ll make sure to keep contact with Alfred. You can talk to Jeanine if you need anything, as well.”

Dick, unfortunately, calls you out on your bullshit.

“But not you, right?” he says, smile still printed on his face.

Woof. You think… you’ve hurt his feelings? Ah shit, you instantly feel like the scum of the earth. Still, you don’t know how you could fix this. Arkham is a genuine threat lingering over your shoulder, you don’t know enough about your new cut-throat billionaire world, and you can not lose any faith they have in you. Any that you have left, that is.

You’re sorry, but this is coming down to survival. And you are a greedy person, after all.

In the end, you don’t have anything to say, and Richard Grayson leaves without a word. Watching him walk towards his car, you feel… bad. Really bad. The part of you that is still crushing on this guy, a very large part of you, feels like you’ve ended the earth. The other part, the one that recognises that once again you’re going to have to fight for yourself… well, she thinks so too.

Maybe… maybe you could fix this. Apologise. Once you’ve gotten your bearings and know you’re safe and 100% financially stable, maybe you’ll figure it out. Give him his shirt back after you’ve dry-cleaned it.

For now, you give him your back as well.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[steviesummer]

inspired by and as a direct follow up to this post by @strangersteddierthings:

Eddie is horrified. He remembers the day Steve is referring to, though clearly not as well as Steve does. He calls out as Steve raced up the stairs and hears his door slam.

“Fuck.” He stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He can’t believe things went so bad so quickly. He’s been trying to get to know Steve better, get closer and damn if he didn’t just blow the hole thing. He’d shown up early, told Steve he needed to prepare as an excuse to spend some time with him. Despite everything that happened over spring break, Steve had remained guarded, standoffish no matter what Eddie tried. At least now he knew why. He’d fucked things up before he’d known there was something to fuck up.

He feels even worse about calling him a bully. Sure, Steve had looked the other way and even laughed at some of the mean jokes others had made, but he was far from the worst. That dubious award went to Billy Hargrove, but even without him, there was plenty of people who did far worse than Steve did. Especially because Steve is right. He did hit first, metaphorically at least. He can justify it all he wants as trying to protect himself, but that doesn’t make it right. Steve all but admitted that as he said the same thing. He feels nauseous at the realization that maybe he was just as bad as those he decried. That for all his talk about accepting outcasts and defying convention, he was just as prejudiced. Swallowing hard, he heads back to the dining room and looks at the clock. There is no way he is going to be able to run the campaign today. He’s not going to be able to focus or even play without thinking about how things might have been if he hadn’t driven Steve off all those years ago. He grabs the phone and dials Gareth’s number. “Emerson house, Sheryl speaking.” “Hi Mrs. Emerson, it’s Eddie.” Eddie is proud that he manages to keep his voice even. “Is Gareth there?” “Oh, yes! Let me go get him for you.” “Thanks Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie focuses on breathing while he waits. “Eddie? Hey man, what’s up?” Eddie breathes out. “Hey Gareth. Look, I know its last minute, but we’re gonna have to postpone Hellfire. Something came up.” He could hear Gareth’s frown through the phone. “Postpone? What happened, did Harrington do something?” As if he couldn’t feel worse. “Nah. I’ll explain later, but can you call Jeff and Frank, let them know? I gotta call the freshman, too.” “Alright, but I’m going to hold you to that.” “Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow.” Eddie promises before hanging up. He weighs his options for how to tell the Party. Eventually, he decides on calling Mike, know that the younger teen won’t push too much. He’s dialing the Wheeler home before he can second guess his decision. “This is Mike.” Eddie feels a rush of gratitude that Mike is the one who answered, rather than Nancy or one of their parents. “Hey Mike, it’s Eddie. Listen, Steve’s not feeling great and having Hellfire here isn’t going to help. Can you call the rest of the Party, let them know we’re gonna move it to another day? I’ll keep an eye on Steve.” Eddie knows Mike is a confused, given how adamant he’s been in the past about not canceling or moving Hellfire, but as he expected, Mike accepts what he says at face value. “Sure. Need us to bring anything?” “Nah, I’ve got it. Pretty sure he just needs some peace and quiet so he can rest. But thanks.” They say their goodbyes and Eddie puts the phone back on the hook.  With that done, he checks that the door is locked and faces the stairs. Now for the hard part. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, if there is anything he can say that will fix this, but he has to try. Even if doesn’t change things between him and Steve, Steve deserves at least that much. Every step feels like it takes effort, chest heavy with guilt, but it only takes him a few moments to get to Steve’s door. It’s closed, which doesn’t surprise him. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking. Nothing. “Steve?” If it wasn’t for the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing he could hear through the door, Eddie would think he had left. He glad that he at least didn’t drive Steve out of his own home. He rests his forehead on the door. “I’m sorry.” Eddie hopes Steve can hear how much he means it. “You’re right, I fucked up. I made an assumption and took out my anger at other people on you. And that wasn’t fair and it’s not okay. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it wasn’t you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes - “And despite that, you still humor the kids when they talk about D&D and agreed to let us play here and didn’t punch me in the face, which makes you a better man than I.” He falls silent, listens as Steve’s breathing slows. He isn’t sure how long he stands there. He wonders how many other people he hurt this way, without even realizing. Knows he wants to do better, be better. He sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. “Anyway, I canceled Hellfire for today. I told everyone something came up, don’t worry about that. I’ll make up some story, make sure they know its not your fault. And uh,  let me know if you want to hang out again or something. I know I’ve been around a lot; didn’t realize that I was making you so uncomfortable, which is probably another thing I should apologize for. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waits a moment for an answer, but when none comes, he backs away from the door and walks downstairs to gather his stuff. It hurts, but he knows Steve deserves space and to be the one to initiate contact. He has some thinking to do, anyway.

[loveinhawkins]

There’s perks to working a summer job where there’s seemingly no manager. Steve got an at most five minute interview with an overly smiley dude who said, “An independent workforce is very important to us,” and didn’t even check his references before telling Steve that he was hired.

So it’s down to him and Robin alone to open and close Scoops Ahoy. And the lack of any boss—not even a supervisor—is mostly great, means that no-one’s hovering over their shoulders droning on about ‘company policy’, means they can take their breaks as and when, and no-one’s tapping their foot with an eye on the clock.

But then there’s the times where it’s absolutely swamped with customers, and the statistical likelihood of having to serve an asshole skyrockets; and most assholes don’t tend to think of teenagers slinging ice-cream as being worthy of even the tiniest shred of respect.

“Are you wilfully this stupid, missy?” a douchebag snaps at Robin during the lunchtime rush, after she added chocolate sauce on his sundae instead of raspberry.

She remakes the order with a look that, if there was any justice in the world, would make him drop down dead on the spot. But instead, he just scoffs when she passes him the new sundae.

“Have a spectacular day,” Robin says acerbically, and if it was any other time, Steve would be ducking down behind the counter, pretending to check on stock levels so he can hide his laughter.

Except Robin’s also doing that thing where she blinks a lot, and Steve knows she’s fighting tears of frustration because he privately does something remarkably similar.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest coupled with what’s becoming a steadily frequent flare of protectiveness. That one usually comes with the kids and The Upside Down—except Robin is a girl who’s round about his age, so he half-heartedly assumes it must be because he has a crush on her.

But he’s not even thinking about said crush at all when he gently bumps her towards the break room with his hip and says, “Take yours first, I’ve got this.”

For half a second, Robin’s eyes seem to shine in gratitude before she puts a hand over her heart and declares, dripping in sarcasm, “You’re a god among men, Harrington, I never believed what anyone said about you.”

“You’re wel—hey, what did they say about me?”

The door to the break room shuts, but not before he hears Robin let out a genuine snort of laughter. He smiles and pivots back to the register.

The line’s calmed down; Steve recognises a substitute teacher waiting to be served: Mrs Greeves, who’s been at Hawkins High since the sixties, at least. There’s no other adult in the shop, so it’s presumably her little granddaughter who’s running about the place, without so much as a glancing eye on her.

But Steve doesn’t have to worry about a potential lost child scenario, because a guy suddenly slips out of the booth he’d been sitting in, bending down to the kid’s eye level and subtly ensuring that she doesn’t hightail it out of there.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to recognise him; he’s still getting used to the whole phenomenon of seeing people without the high school setting behind them. Like, Robin used to be just a name from a class he can’t even recall, and now he knows her for her dry wit and love of cryptic crosswords.

And this Eddie Munson is sort of a different beast from the guy Steve saw stomping around the cafeteria tables.

He’s dressed pretty much the same, (Hellfire shirt sans the leather jacket must be the ‘summer look’, Steve reckons), but he’s quieter as he chats with the little girl, letting her try on one of his skull rings to distract from her obvious boredom. His grin is softer, too.

Mrs Greeves clears her throat, and Steve promptly puts on his vacant ‘delightful customer service’ smile.

“Afternoon, Mrs Greeves, what can I do you for?”

She orders a simple strawberry cone for the kid, Abigail, and two scoops of lemon and vanilla in a cup for herself—appropriate, Steve thinks, because her face looks like she’s sucking on a lemon half the time.

As he prepares the ice-cream, he’s quickly remembering why she’s on the list of substitute teachers that students dread, even if he’s only had the ‘pleasure’ of being in a class supervised by her once. He has vague memories of how she’d talk with other teachers in a scandalised stage whisper about students from ‘broken homes’—he’s pretty sure she’s still an austere teacher at the Sunday School, too.

“Abigail,” she says sharply, when Steve finishes the cone, and she finally seems to realise her granddaughter isn’t by her side, “what have I told you about—”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Eddie says hurriedly. Abigail hands him the ring back, very carefully dropping it into his palm, and he gives her a gentle smile. “I don’t mind—”

“—not talking to strangers?” Mrs Greeves finishes, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken.

“But,” Eddie says with tiny frown, “you know me, ma’am, I’m—”

“Let me be plain then, Mr Munson.” She finally turns to favour Eddie with a scathing look. “I meant that I don’t want my granddaughter around a corrupting influence.”

There’s an awful silence while Abigail collects the cone.

“Oh,” Eddie says, still crouched down by the booth. He sounds very small.

And Steve’s view of Mrs Greeves quickly turns from a general dislike to an icy hatred.

“And here’s yours,” he says, sliding the cup over.

She looks down. Her mouth goes all pinched in displeasure.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s your ice-cream,” Steve says, playing up a confused blink. “Is—is this not what you ordered? I’m terribly sorry for the—”

“Don’t be obtuse, Mr Harrington. These scoops are tiny; they barely fill the cup!”

Yup, Steve thinks with a savage satisfaction. They’re the size of a melon ball, and even that’s being generous.

“Mrs Greeves, I’m afraid it’s store policy. Nothing to do with—”

“What kind of policy could possibly justify—”

“Rudeness,” Steve says smoothly.

Eddie’s head jerks up at that, his mouth slightly agape.

“Mr Harrington,” Mrs Greeves says, her face turning puce, “I would like to see your manager.”

“The manager,” Steve says flatly. “Okay, sure. I’ll go get him.”

What he does next, compared to everything else that’s happened in his life thus far, isn’t all that stupid.

Well. Maybe a little.

It’s worth it though, to see the way Eddie Munson’s eyes widen at the sight.

Making sure to have zero expression throughout, Steve mimes walking downstairs, throws off his hat while crouched behind the counter, then re-emerges with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“How can I help you?” he asks, like they’ve only just met.

The cup of minuscule ice-cream is soon up-ended as Mrs Greeves storms out, barking over her shoulder, “Abigail, come here!”

Eddie stands to let the kid out of the way, who seems blissfully ignorant with her cone. Steve’s sure he hears him mutter under his breath, “Jesus, she’s not a dog.”

“I’ll be reporting you, Steve Harrington, make no mistake!”

Yeah, good fucking luck. I sure as hell don’t know who really runs this place.

“Uh-huh,” Steve says. “Looking forward to it. Harrington with two ‘r’s one ‘n’, ma’am.”

“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie drawls. He’s leaning next to the booth, hip cocked, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen it himself, Steve might’ve been convinced that the Eddie from a moment ago was a different person. “That was not worth getting fired over.”

“I’m not getting fired,” Steve says—although honestly, if that had been a real threat, he thinks his actions would probably have been the same. Huh. “I meant it, dude, there’s no manager here.”

Eddie nods slightly, looks up at the Scoops Ahoy sign and grins. “So you and Buckley are the skeleton crew on this ship.”

“Uh, I guess?”

Come on, man, Steve thinks, as Eddie keeps up the wide grin like it’s a shield. This isn’t the high school cafeteria; I’m not about to hit your lunch tray or whatever.

Out loud, he calls into the back, “Hey, Robin, the chocolate’s low. I’m just gonna put in a new batch if you want some of the old stuff.”

The sliding doors open.

Robin sighs as if she’s just had a very relaxing facial, but she’s actually holding a folded newspaper with the cryptic crossword all finished.

“I am so chilled out,” she says, with a delivery that could rival Eddie Munson’s trademark dramatics.

“You’re so weird,” Steve says mildly while making up a cup with the leftover chocolate ice-cream.

“You’ve just got no taste, Harrington.” She waggles the crossword at him. “You should give ‘em a try.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I’m no good at that code-breaking stuff.” He passes her the cup, goes to start assembling his own and pauses. “Hey, Munson, you want some?”

“Oh, uh, I’m good,” Eddie says, sounding suddenly wrong-footed. “Sorry, I’m just, uh, killing time before my movie starts. The other stores said if I wasn’t buying anything I should get out, so…”

“So you’ve come to our oceanic sanctum,” Robin deadpans.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, just ‘cause you do crosswords doesn’t mean you have to turn into a dictionary. Ow.” He doesn’t quite duck in time to avoid the newspaper smacking him in the face. He turns to address Eddie again, who appears to be fighting back laughter. “What’re you gonna see, Munson?”

Eddie’s eyes glance away for a second. “Something very scary and befitting of my stature, Harrington.”

Robin, who’s made a habit of memorising the mall’s movie schedules, checks her watch and narrows her eyes. “Return to Oz?”

Eddie’s cheeks start to glow. “Fuck off, Buckley, I’ve never liked you.”

“You’re such a liar, I’ve heard your applause at band practice—”

“Okay, but,” Steve cuts in, jumping up onto the counter with one hand. “I thought the whole point was Oz was a dream. How can she return to—?”

“Christ, I don’t know, Harrington,” Eddie says. “I didn’t pick it for critical analysis; the poster had a dude with a pumpkin head on it, and I thought it looked cool.”

“Oh, I saw that,” Robin says. “Made me think of when all those pumpkins went bad. Like, imagine if they had faces.”

Unthinkingly, Steve says around his ice-cream spoon, “No way, I’m not dealing with that, too.”

“Excusez-moi?” Robin says.

“Hmm?” Steve says innocently.

“Hey, you missed quite a show earlier on, Buckley,” Eddie says. “Reckon Harrington deserves a tally in the ‘you rule’ column.”

Steve glares at Robin. “I told you to keep that outta view of the customers.”

“Ah, but I’m not buying anything,” Eddie points out, “ergo, not a customer.”

“Ergo,” Steve mimics.

“That board is strictly for romantic successes,” Robin says.

Eddie snorts. “Aw, that’s hardly fair. I think it should have more… rounded criteria.”

Robin’s eyes narrow again. “Eddie Munson, you’ve never complimented a jock in your life, don’t start now.”

“Hey,” Steve says, overselling a ‘wounded’ expression. “I’m more than that, y’know. I contain multitudes.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, smiling. “Folks, we’ve got Hawkins’s own Whitman right here.”

Steve flips him off and, on a whim, decides to channel his inner Dustin.

“Maybe I just see the world more clearly than you two ‘cause I’m free of societal constraints.”

“You’re working in a mall,” Robin says.

“High school societal contraints. I am unshackled and ergo, free.”

“Damn,” Eddie says, patting down his pockets for an imaginary pen, “I should use that.”

“Stop inflating Harrington’s ego and go catch your totally scary movie,” Robin says.

Eddie checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Um.” And Steve thinks that it almost looks like he’s reluctant to leave. “Time flies, I guess. Better go ashore.” He catches Steve’s eye, gives a tiny little salute as he leaves. “May your summer continue to be mundane and manager-less.”

“You’re a poet, Munson,” Steve says, even though Eddie’s already out the door.

“So what was the show I missed?” Robin says. “I couldn’t hear anything back there.”

“Nothing that exciting.”

Steve tells her, and even though a smile tugs at her mouth as he re-enacts his mime, for some reason her eyes are kinda sad for most of it.

“Good job, Popeye,” she says thoughtfully—and though it directly contradicts her own words, she marks up a singular ‘you rule’ tally for the rest of her shift before wiping it off.

Eddie doesn’t re-appear after the movie—not that Steve’s keeping track of time, or anything—but at least they don’t have anymore nightmares for customers. As Steve mops, he thinks about how Dustin’s return from Camp Something Something is approaching—and the fact that he’s circled the date with a goofy smiley face is between him and his bedroom calendar.

He smiles to himself while clocking out of the now ghostly mall, recalling Eddie’s parting words.

The thought of a mundane, manager-less summer stretching before him sounds pretty damn good.

[yandecifi]

sex isn't about have to's

aizawa/reader

~4500 words

mild smut, angst, hurt/comfort

cw; implied rape/noncon, implied incest, implied child abuse

You've managed to avoid nights at the house by running the door at a local strip club. The bouncer you usually work with, Aizawa, is a sarcastic, unusually tall smoker. He's sweet, sweet enough to drive you home most nights — and to pick up on your subtleties.

“Hope all the girls are as hot as you.”

It’s twelve in the morning and your dress is short enough that you’ll flash everybody if you bend over. You don’t mind, though, because that’s kind of the idea; the all black, skin tight nature of your chosen work uniform is meant to draw attention to… well, the parts that matter.

You laugh sweetly as you scan the young man’s ID. Your coworker, Aizawa, looms behind you, eyeing up the crowd in front of the club and rolling a cigarette between his fingers. He’s one of the better bouncers you work with, if not your favorite — not only does he actually do his job when things get rowdy, but he doesn’t snitch on your rather immoral side hustle.

“Oh, trust me, they’re even better,” you say, passing the ID back with a flick of your fingers. You shift your weight so that your breasts squish together a little more. “Wanna come and tell me about it after?”

You flutter your lashes. Distant club music swims through your body. The guy grins and nods.

That’s gotta be at least forty bucks. Score.

You turn to flash Aizawa a little shit eating grin. He just shakes his head and takes a puff of his cigarette.

You don’t bother wearing perfume. Why would you when Aizawa’s always got smoke curling up from his lips and fingers? A year into this job and you can’t even scrub the scent out of your hair anymore. When you grumbled that you stink thanks to him, he just said you’re welcome and held out a cigarette, half-lidded eyes full of mirth.

He takes that dry approach to just about everything. Maybe it’s because he’s so much older than you, what with his inky, messily tied hair and rough stubble adorning his chin, but he doesn’t care about much aside from his paycheck and getting home. You’ve seen him take a punch to the face and just sigh with annoyance.

Still smiling up at your coworker, you ring up the next guy in line.

“Y’know, I think this is gonna be a good night, ‘Zawa.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You stay ‘till close?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice — oh, yeah, you’re good to go in — I’m here ‘till close, too. Think you could drive me home?”

“Uh-huh. Focus on the customers.”

“Oops.” You whip around to see an older man holding out his credit. You take it with a laugh. “Sorry, sir. I’d make it up to you with a kiss, but you’ll get plenty of that inside.”

“Ha! Didn’t expect the service to start out here. I’m paying for all five of us, by the way.”

“Of course.”

You blow a kiss at the men as they pass you, their loud laughter ensuing. Aizawa blows smoke into your face. You cough and smack his arm.

The monotony of greeting and ringing up, of flirting and scanning, continues. This is how most of your weekend nights go; clock in at nine, run the door with Aizawa (usually) and dick around with him until three, and then give a blowjob or two before heading back to your apartment. It’s a pretty good gig for somebody like you — it doesn’t clash with your other jobs while still making enough cash.

The line dwindles as the night goes on. Eventually, ten minutes go by without a group, and you’re squatting and fixing the straps of the stilettos you’re wearing. An unlit cigarette hangs between your teeth. Goosebumps run up your arms from the night air as you chat about everything and nothing.

“No, yeah, I haven’t seen her since. Do you think she got fired?”

“Probably.” Aizawa’s leaning against the wall, lighter in hand. “People show up high all the time, but not that high.”

“Yeah. I swear to God she was turning blue.” The strap you’re fiddling with slips from your fingers for the — what, fifth time? You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Aizawa scoffs. “What’d I say? You’ve gotta —“

“You’ve gotta stop wearing the fucking heels, I know, I know!”

You’re kneeling now, knees scraping the concrete. Every time you jam the strap into the buckle it comes right out, no matter how much your nails wedge it in tight. You sigh and resign yourself to the floor.

“This is what I get for thrifting shitty shoes.”

Aizawa hums in agreement and yet squats next to you. He squints at your bratty straps. Then, he hands you his lighter.

“Try putting your leg out straight.”

“Okay,” you murmur, butt hitting the ground as you lean back on your hands and straighten your legs. “I’ll literally love you forever if you fix this.”

“Uh-huh.”

He fiddles with the strap, one hand wrapped around your calf to hold you still. Now that he’s this close, you realize you’ve never been this equal in height to him. Like, the guy is built like a damn tree. His jawline is pretty nice, too, and his hands are warm —

“Lighter.”

“Oh, yeah, here.”

Aizawa brings the lighter to your strap and fiddles some more with the flame. Then, he stands up, already reaching into his pocket for another cigarette, though he manages to catch himself.

“Oh my God,” you say, rolling your ankle around and around. “You actually fixed it. What the hell. And with the lighter, too.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, holding out his free hand. You take it with a grin.

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He huffs. “Watch it.”

You laugh and the two of you separate, only to come together again — you lean towards him so that he can light the cigarette in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, breathing the smoke out.

“For making you stink,” he responds, breathing the smoke in.

The two of you loiter around the doors. They open occasionally, drunk men stumbling out to catch their Ubers. One guy vomits across the street. You look away with a grimace.

“Ew.”

“You should be used to this by now.”

“It’s still ew.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long have you worked here that you don’t care about that sorta stuff?”

Aizawa rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck and all the joints there. “I’ve been here three years. Had other places before, though.”

“Haha. Old.”

“I’m thirty-nine. I’ve seen you hook up with guys in their fifties.”

You shrug, pass your cigarette to Aizawa. “They pay better.”

“Mhm,” he hums, breathing the nicotine in. He’s kinda pretty when he smokes. It’s something about the veins in his hands. “Your parents don’t care that you’re doing this?”

Your face scrunches up. “My parents?”

“Yeah?”

“How old do you think I am, dude?”

“I don’t know. Eighteen?”

“Excuse you, I’m nineteen.”

He lets out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, sticking the cigarette back out at you. You take it and smoke, face hot.

“That’s basically the same thing,” he says, laughter dead.

“Yeah, whatever, jeez. They don’t care.”

Aizawa nods slowly. You watch your smoke dissolve in the air.

“Just be careful with it,” he says.

You sneak a glance at your coworker. He’s leaning against the wall of the strip club the both of you work at, arms crossed, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.

You cough and look down at your stilettos. “Thanks.”

“Your dress is riding.”

“Fuck.” You bite on the cig and yank your dress down. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t, uh, mean to,” you mutter.

“I know.” He clears his throat and nods towards the door. “Your guy.”

Just like Aizawa says, the young guy from earlier is coming out the doors with his group of friends. They’re snickering as he says bye and splits off towards you. You’ve always been kind of a joke to everybody else, but Aizawa’s never laughed at you.

You get up with a stumble, adjust yourself. The guy reaches you and you snatch up his hand, snuff your cigarette out on your thigh with a sizzle. You can feel Aizawa’s eyes on you as you drag him around back.

Maybe it’s because you’ve done this since you were a kid, but sucking off guys like the one you’re kneeled in front of doesn’t make you feel or think as much as it probably should. It goes by fast, actually, which you don’t mention (you’ve learned that ruins the mood), a blur of motions and groaning and zippers. He gives you some cash and you’re alone, standing behind your workplace, wiping cum off of your face. It’s quiet except for the muffled music.

You pass Aizawa on your way to the breakroom. He’s checking the IDs of some guys — your responsibility, fuck — and spots you as you try to rush past. You’re wiping off the mess that’s your lip gloss, manicured fingertips running circles around your mouth. He gives you a once over, like he always does, but this time he lingers on your fingers.

The guy called you some names during it. They ring in your ears as you brush your teeth in the employee bathroom. Slut. Whore. Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You spit into the sink. You wash your face. You don’t recognize yourself without your makeup. You rummage through your ziploc baggie of product, reapply everything. You fix your hair. Your mouth never does feel clean.

Your lip wobbles. You keep running your fingers through your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror.

When you make it back to your post, the night air biting your calves, your coworker is alone at his usual spot on the wall. You stand next to him with your arms crossed. His voice comes out startlingly even compared to the voices in your head.

“You were in there a while.”

You nibble on your lip. “It got in my hair.”

He hums.

“Sorry for making you do my job,” you whisper.

“It’s boring out here. I don’t mind.” A car drives by. Somebody laughs loudly from inside the club.

“Okay.” You want to swallow but you spit instead. “Thanks.”

Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

It hits three in the morning and you’re giggling with Aizawa in his beat-up car. A cheap air freshener hangs from his mirror, twirling about as he drives you home, an empty energy drink rattling in one of his cupholders.

“Okay, um, would you kill your cat to end traffic?” You ask, smiling, watching him as he rolls his eyes from the driver's seat.

“You’ve asked me this already.”

“Just answer!”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He taps his cigarette ash out the window, his other hand guiding the steering wheel. “Anybody who says otherwise is a psychopath.”

“Okay, yeah, I agree. What if it was a dog?”

“Still no.”

“A fish?”

“Maybe.” He narrows his eyes. “Actually, yes.”

“Why?”

“You ask the weirdest questions.” He cracks a smile as he says that, shaking his head. “I guess I feel like the fish wouldn’t care as much.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He’s taking you into your neighborhood, now. It’s the kind of place that’s pretty obviously subsidized — it’s all one-story apartments, lawns that are either dead or severely overgrown, and potholes or cracked asphalt. Aizawa slows to a stop in front of your parents’ apartment, puts his hazards on. You should unbuckle your seatbelt and say goodnight with a giggle but you’re stuck.

The lights are still on. Your windows are glowing like eyes.

“Um.” You glance at Aizawa and he’s looking at you funny, fuck. Your fingers fumble with the seatbelt and undo it with a clack. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he says slowly. You need to get out of the car, you’re gripping the door handle, all you need to do is open it.

Your father is awake and he shouldn’t be.

You’ve done this hundreds of times, thousands, even. It’s not even the act that’s the worst part anymore. It's looking at your apartment, knowing what’s going to happen, and knowing you can’t do anything about it. No, no, not even — it isn’t even that, it’s that you won’t do anything about it. You will do nothing. You will walk in and let it happen.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You open your mouth to say something more — another apology, maybe — but you just let out something like a whimper. Your back hits the car seat, you smile, you frown, you shake your head and take a sharp breath. Open the fucking door.

Aizawa turns off his hazards and you’re rolling past your apartment. On and on the two of you go, further into your neighborhood, until you can’t see your windows anymore.

“Anywhere else you want me to drop you off?”

“Uh.” You can’t catch up to all your thoughts. You’ve always been slow; the hot, dumb bitch, the whore, the slut. “What?”

“Do you have a friend you can stay with or something?”

Friends? You? You dropped out of school over a year ago. All you ever do is work.

“I mean, no.”

He takes a moment to look at you instead of the road. His jaw clenches. He passes you his nearly done cigarette as he loops the roundabout at the end of your street.

“I have a couch.”

You look at him with wide eyes. You’re speechless for a second because nobody has ever, ever said to you what he’s saying.

“Uh, no, no. It’s okay. I can go home.”

He grips the steering wheel with both hands, squinting at the road. He seems to be rolling your words around on his tongue, considering, analyzing.

“You can,” he offers, “but you don’t have to.”

Your brows raise as you stare at the dash. Your lips pull into a frown. You know that, you’ve thought it every single time, but it’s so different hearing it out loud.

“Okay. I — yeah. Yeah.”

And he’s pulling out of your neighborhood. You smoke until you’re burning your fingertips. He merges onto the freeway.

Aizawa lives in a concrete apartment complex the next town over. He’s on the third floor, number three-hundred-fifty-three. You stand behind him, your backpack slung over your shoulder. Your hands wring behind your back. His keys jingle and jangle as he unlocks his front door. He’s got a chibi cat keychain.

The door swings open and bounces off a wall with a thud. The first thing you notice is that it smells like citrus air freshener mixed with weed and cigarettes. Aizawa closes the door behind you, toeing his shoes off.

“You can put your shoes over here.” He gestures to the little closet by his front door. It’s empty aside from a coat or two and a few pairs of shoes. You nod, unbuckle your stilettos. Aizawa grows in height as you step out of them.

You smile a little. “How’s the weather up there?”

He sighs. “Very funny.”

His vinyl floor is cold on your feet as you follow him further into the apartment. It’s simple: a kitchen, a living room with the couch you suppose you’ll be sleeping in, and then two doors that lead to his bathroom and bedroom, respectively.

It’s not as dirty as your place. His kitchen is kept tidy, the sink empty and dry, the counters littered with spices and cooking instruments but well taken care of. He doesn’t have trash piling up or mold lining the backsplash. He doesn’t have empty beer bottles sitting on his coffee table, just an ashtray. A weighted blanket is folded neatly on his couch.

“You have a nice place.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“No, seriously.” You set your bag on his coffee table while he hunts through the fridge. “I’ve got black mold, like, all over my bathroom ceiling.”

“That’s disgusting.”

You laugh, sit on the couch. “I know.”

Aizawa brings you a tall glass of water. You sip at it, tug down your dress. He averts his eyes.

“I’m going to go shower.” He undoes his hair as he speaks. It falls down to his shoulders, all fluffy and rather tangled. He rakes a hand through the blackest of it. “I have some leftovers in the fridge, help yourself. I have extra towels if you’d like to shower, too.” Then, he pauses, opens and shuts his mouth, his head cocked at you. You can’t help but lean back and giggle.

“What?”

“Are you fine with sleeping in that?”

You look down. He’s referring to your dress that, even now, you can’t help but fidget with.

“I can give you some of my pajamas.” Aizawa blinks tiredly at you. “If you want.”

Your face warms. “Uh, yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

Aizawa disappears into his bedroom and then returns a couple moments later with a large black t-shirt and some sweats. He hands them to you, all folded neatly on top of one another.

“Thank you,” you say again. “You’re really sweet.”

He heads towards the bathroom. “Just knock if you need anything.”

It feels weird to change in the middle of his living room so you go into his bedroom. You close the door, lock it just in case, and then lay his pajamas on the bed. It isn’t made, the comforter folded back like he just rolled out of it. He’s got shelves with a variety of books and knick-knacks on one wall, a desk with similar items against another. His closet is open, his wardrobe basically all black. How emo.

The pajamas are comically large on you. The t-shirt ends at your midthigh, the sleeves at your elbows. The collar goes off your shoulder. You had to tie the sweats’ drawstring tight around your hips so that they wouldn’t slip.

You slap your hands against your face. It’s definitely better than flashing him every five seconds, but why the fuck did you have to end up in his clothes?

You fold your dress up and exit the bedroom, the sound of the shower running filling the apartment. Sitting back down on the couch, you stuff your dress in your bag. You don’t have any makeup remover with you, but a wet paper towel or two from the kitchen works well enough at removing your makeup.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The shower runs and runs. You don’t have much else to do aside from sit on the couch and sip at your water.

And think.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

But what is sex, anyway? It’s the same as everything else if you think about it. You rub each other like you’re petting a dog, get close like you’re hugging, and kissing is kind of like eating. Nobody cares about holding hands or bumping into one another, so why isn’t it the same with sex? It’s just touching. It’s just touching until it’s over.

Aizawa emerges from the bathroom an unknowable amount of time later. He’s dressed similarly to you, though his pants are plaid and it all fits better. His hair is damp.

“Did you eat?” He asks, eyeing the unchanged kitchen counters.

“I’m not really hungry.”

He trudges over to sit on the other side of the couch, picking up his pack of cigarettes on the way. “You should still eat.”

“You say that while grabbing your lighter?”

He lights up with a snort. “Don’t use me for reference.”

You roll your eyes. You outstretch a hand and make a grabby motion towards him.

“No.” The smoke seeps out of his mouth and nose as he speaks. “You’ve smoked enough for a day.”

You groan. “Literally every time I see you you’re smoking.”

“What did I just say?”

You cross your arms, look away. Aizawa leans back into the couch cushions and continues blowing smoke. You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He’s doing the same thing.

He sits up. “Are you feeling better? Oh.” He blinks a little, gets up and goes to the bathroom. He comes back and stands in front of you, holding out some bandaids and a disinfectant spray. You just stare at them.

“For what?” You glance between the items and his heavily lidded eyes.

“You put out a cigarette on your leg earlier and your knees got scraped when you went with the guy.”

You take the bandaids and spray. You lay them in your lap, stare at them. He just continues to smoke, peering down at you, unmoving. Then, you let out a little laugh, your face crumpled despite your smile.

“Y’know, if you want a blow job, you can just ask.”

“I do not,” Aizawa blurts loudly, “want a fucking blow job.”

He drops to a crouch in front of you. He sticks his cigarette in the ashtray, pushes the legs of your sweats up to your knees, grabs the disinfectant off your thighs.

You sit and watch stupidly. Of course you do, you’re stupid. You’re stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would he want something like that from somebody like you? What’s wrong with you? You’re not a hot bitch, just a dumb one. Nobody wants somebody that’s been with their own dad. You’re disgusting.

Your face is hot, head hanging while Aizawa sprays your knees. The scrapes tingle and burn. He peels the bandaids free and tears are dripping onto the sweats he gave you.

His head jerks up. You turn away in response, wipe roughly at your eyes.

You’re stupid. You’re stupid. You’re stupid.

Slut. Whore.

“It’s not that I—” He sighs, sticking the bandaid onto one of your knees. “It’s—” He sighs again, louder this time. He rakes a hand through his hair, turns around to take a drag from whatever’s left in his discarded cig.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t do those sorts of things with you,” he settles with. His hands come up to balance himself on your knees. He blows smoke. You sniffle.

“You would?”

Aizawa gazes up at you with hard eyes.

“Yeah, I would.”

Warmth blooms in your face. Aizawa searches your face for something, you don’t know, before sighing even louder and resting his head on his elbow.

“What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Your brow wrinkles. “You shouldn’t.”

He raises his head. “Why?”

“I sucked off that guy earlier and — just — I’m dirty.”

“And I’m a deadbeat. The only person who should be worried here is me.”

“You don’t get it.” The tears start to well up again. “You don’t know the disgusting shit I’ve done.”

“Great, then we’re on the same level.”

Your fingers twitch in your lap. Before you know it, you’re leaning down and kissing him on the lips.

He tastes like cigarettes. Your hands come up to hold his face that’s all dry and scratchy with stubble. He starts to rise; he leans over, over, over, until your head hits the cushions and you’re making out with him on the couch you were supposed to be sleeping in.

He pulls aside the collar of your shirt and starts kissing along your collarbone. Your legs are tangled together, bandaged knees knocking unscathed ones. Aizawa has one hand attached to your hip, the thumb there rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your sweats.

Buried in his mess of hair, your lip wobbles. People don’t just do things like that. He’s acting like he’s into this not just because you’re willing to fuck him, but because it’s you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You grind against his thigh, make breathy, little noises the closer his kisses get to your chest. His other hand slides under your shirt and starts to creep up your midriff, wrapping around your back —

Aizawa pauses, lifts his head. He tugs up your shirt slightly to reveal the start of a patchwork of little circular scars and divots. They climb up the sides of your torso, cigarette burns, trailing from your hip to your chest. Some are faded while others are yellow with pus.

He pulls your shirt back down, holds it there. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You squirm beneath him, chest tight. His hands are more hesitant now. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take my shirt off.”

Aizawa’s still so close as he speaks, hovering over you. He brushes some of your hair out of your face. “Do you want me to?”

“I mean,” you stutter. “It’s kind of weird to look at.”

“I have them on my legs.”

“What?”

“My foster mom put them out there.” He swallows. “A long time ago.”

Your face crumples. You wrap your arms around him again, pull him into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. They’re almost all gone now.” He slowly hugs you back. “Yours will go away eventually, too.”

“Yeah?” Your fingers comb through his hair, snagging on the knots.

“Yeah.” Aizawa lifts himself off of you.

You smile, sit up, and pull your shirt off. You push Aizawa into sitting against the couch before straddling him. His hands come up to rest on your hips. It’s just your bra and sweats on now, your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Your scars are like leopard spots.” Aizawa’s fingers trail up and down some of the older ones. “You’re pretty.”

You’ve been called hot, sexy, cute, but not often pretty.

“Thank you.” You wipe at your face again. “You really are sweet.”

The two of you start making out again, hands cupping each other's cheeks or pulling the other closer. Aizawa ends up taking his shirt off soon after.

“These pants are ridiculous.” Aizawa laughs a little, kissing your shoulder. You’re leaning against him while he helps you shimmy out of the sweats he gave you, chest to chest. It’s different when there’s nothing but your bra keeping the two of you apart; he’s so warm, hot like a furnace, cozy.

The sweats finally join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You plop back down on him and immediately feel it — he’s hard. You rub yourself against him. Aizawa takes a sharp breath and grabs your hips in response.

“Cheeky,” he mutters, eyeing your grin before starting to kiss you again. One of his hands drags from your hip, down your stomach, and into your underwear.

He starts rubbing featherlight circles around your clit. Soon enough, you’re grinding into his hand, sweating, leaning into his shoulder. Aizawa grips your hip harder with his other hand.

“Stop moving so much.”

You nose his ear, out of breath. “Please?”

He shudders, releases his grip on you. Instead, that hand trails up your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You let him slide it off of you, let him kiss and nibble at your chest, let him do anything so long he keeps letting you come undone in his lap like this.

He holds you, arm around your torso, when he dips his fingers into you. He thrusts them upwards sluggishly, brows furrowed, until he’s up to his knuckles. You chew on your lip.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you murmur. Aizawa curls his fingers and your thighs clench around him.

“Sex isn’t about have to’s.”

You close your eyes and focus on his hands, on the warmth of him, instead of what that means.

[sansaorgana]

I need to know how Benny would react to his wife going into labor?

hello, darlings! I decided to use the first request for the requested part two of the fic where Reader is pregnant and tells Benny about it 💐😌

[ PART ONE ]

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

Lots of things had changed those past few months. With his ups and downs, Benny Cross had grown into a man who was worthy of becoming a father. He had found a job as a mechanic and although he was still riding with the club, he was no longer leaving you alone for a whole night and you had bailed him out only once those past few months. With the help of Johnny and a few other guys – mostly Cal – he had even managed to prepare a nursery in your house for the baby.

You both were scared, though, and it wasn’t even about the little baby joining your family soon. Benny was scared of failing and not meeting the standards he had set up for himself. He never wanted to be like his own father and disappoint. You, on the other hand, were scared that Benny would just… Break. Pop like a balloon after all those months of trying to be the most proper version of himself. That he’d eventually crack and need to unwind. You couldn’t forget about the fact that your husband was a wild mustang and wild animals would always remain unpredictable – even domesticated ones.

Your biggest fear was that it would happen after the baby would be born and you’d be left alone with a newborn child. If Benny disappeared on you like that, you would find it very difficult to forgive him. But you were nine months pregnant now and he was still with you, trying his best every day. It was making you more and more convinced that as long as the baby was still in your womb, he was fine. But what would he actually do when there would be a tiny human screaming in that crib Benny had built not so long ago? What would he do when there would be actual diapers to change?

However, sharing those doubts with him didn’t feel right. You didn’t want to be ungrateful – after all, he was the best version of himself for you and the baby lately. He had even stopped drinking so much beer. He was taking this new responsibility more and more seriously the bigger your belly grew because it was a proof that yes, it was true – he would become a father.

On that night you were haunted by those thoughts again. In fact, they were especially coming back during those long, sleepless nights and lately every night had been sleepless. Benny was snoring lightly next to you and you were jealous how easy it was for him to drift off to the land of dreams – you knew it was caused by his exhaustion after work but, let’s be real, he had never had problems with falling asleep. His head would touch the pillow and he was a goner that very moment.

You groaned quietly to yourself and changed position for the tenth time that night when suddenly, you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen, which made you hiss. However, you ignored it because those were happening once in a while. 

The pain came back, though, the very moment the previous one subdued completely. You sat up rapidly and held your swollen belly, not wanting to alarm your husband yet but he woke up on his own. Benny moved uncomfortably and opened his eyes lazily.

“You okay, kitty?” He mumbled out.

“I-I don’t know,” you admitted, honestly. Benny furrowed his brows and moved up as well, resting on his elbows as he watched you carefully.

“What do you mean?” He asked, nervously.

“It… Ouch, it hurts,” you told him and winced out of pain.

Benny sat up now and reached his hand to the small lamp on the nightstand table. He turned it on and moved back to you. His rough hands cupped your face and you saw nothing but pure panic in his baby blue eyes. You wanted to comfort him but another sharp pain filled your abdomen as you let out a hiss and groan.

“Fuck, I think it’s time, Benny,” you told him and glanced at the clock. “Wow, the little one really does have a sense of time! It’s three in the morning, god damn it,” you tried to joke a little but Benny didn’t even smile while his face turned a few shades paler.

You moved his wrists away and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to stand up slowly but after a short while, your husband snapped back to reality. He jumped out of bed and hurried to your side.

“No, no, no, you wait here, I… I gotta call Johnny, yeah? We gotta borrow Betty’s car and… Where’s your hospital bag?” He began pacing around the room.

“Benny, calm down, please, it’s not helping me,” you sighed. “The bag’s downstairs already, by the front door.”

Benny nodded and rushed out of the bedroom after grabbing a pair of trousers out of the wardrobe to put them on in the meantime. He was on his way to the telephone because you didn’t own your own car – yet. Thankfully, Johnny and Betty had told you that you could wake them any time and they’d take you to the hospital.

While waiting for him, you were sitting on the edge of your bed and caressing your bump slowly as you tried to take deep breaths in to calm yourself down. Benny was back upstairs very quickly and put on a simple white T-shirt before he approached you with a worried expression on his face.

“Listen, baby, they’re on their way now, we should get goin’,” he crouched down in front of you and rubbed your thighs soothingly. “How you feelin’?”

“Gonna be honest with ya, not very great, been better,” you chuckled at him but he didn’t find it funny. In fact, he looked… sorry? “It’s not your fault, Benny,” you assured him. “Well, technically…”

“I’m sorry I can’t do more. That I can’t make it stop hurting,” he confessed and you were a bit taken aback by such words from Benny Cross himself.

“I wouldn’t want you to feel this pain,” you only cracked a smile at him and caressed his face. “However, I wouldn’t mind sharing some of it with you,” you winked and he stood up to help you do that as well, very gently.

Benny held you by your arms and walked you out of the room. The stairs were the biggest challenge, however, with his gentle guidance and soft encouraging words, you managed to finally walk downstairs. Benny helped you to put a coat over your nightgown and he changed your shoes before grabbing the hospital bag and taking you outside where both Johnny and Betty had been already waiting in her car. It felt very nice to have them both there – they were a real family.

“Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be fine! I’ve been there twice!” Betty looked out of the car’s window to wave at you. “Jump in,” she opened the door and Benny helped you get inside. He placed the bag next to you and sat in the backseat, too.

“Thank you, Johnny,” he murmured and Johnny only nodded before starting the engine.

“Well, you can’t take her on the bike, can you?” Betty asked and you laughed as you imagined that.

“It would surely be a story to tell,” you pointed out.

“Benny, you okay?” Betty turned around to look at your husband and you turned your head to take a look as well. He was even paler than before now and his thigh was trembling. “You’re quiet… More than usual,” she pointed out.

“I’m fine,” he shrugged his arms.

You grabbed his hand to squeeze. You wanted to offer him some comfort but you also wanted to be able to relieve the tension whenever that sharping pain was filling your abdomen.

Thankfully, the hospital was not far away from where you lived. Johnny parked the car and all of you left the car. Johnny lit a cigarette and leaned on the vehicle but Betty joined you inside and you couldn’t be more grateful because Benny was so scared that he couldn’t answer any question asked by the receptionist and then the nurse.

“Are you staying with her?” Betty asked Benny and he gulped at the question. His panicked eyes found yours when you were laying on the hospital bed already; with a nurse preparing you for labour.

“You don’t have to, baby,” you assured him.

Of course you wanted him to be with you but you didn’t want to scare him even further or for him to make a scene and faint.

“I… I’m gonna stay,” Benny nodded at you and you furrowed your brows, surprised. “I just gotta smoke first,” he told you and you nodded back at him.

You watched him walk away and Betty approached you to squeeze your hand.

“He’s not comin’ back, is he?” You asked her.

“No, I don’t think so,” she chuckled and leaned in to kiss the top of your head. “Men aren’t much of a help anyway. You can do it, Mrs. Cross,” she winked at you and walked out as well.

You took a deep breath in and grinned back at an older nurse who had given you a sympathetic smile.

“Are you married for long, Mrs. Cross?” She asked you, trying to distract you from the painful contractions.

“Two years,” you answered.

“Ah, I see,” she hummed to herself. “That woman was someone from the family?”

“No, a friend. She and her husband took me to the hospital. My Benny didn’t buy a car yet,” you explained and she suddenly stopped smiling so nicely as if it was a crime to not be very wealthy. “He has a motorbike,” you told her but it only made her face turn even colder.

“Mhm, he’s one of those,” she commented and you didn’t say anything to that.

To your surprise, the door opened again and Benny walked back inside. You had never seen him in such a worried and stressed state but he sat right next to you and took your hand in his.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back,” you told him. “That you’d just smoke a pack or two outside the hospital until they tell you it’s over,” you explained what you meant.

“Johnny talked me out of it,” Benny confessed.

Few hours later, in the morning, you were already holding your little boy in your arms. You were exhausted and sleepy but you didn’t want to stop staring at his tiny face and beautiful little features. Everything about him was beautiful and fragile – tiny eyes, tiny nose, tiny head, tiny hands with tiny fingers and tiny feet with tiny toes. You watched in awe and Benny did, too, sitting by your side with one of his arms around you.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered and kissed your temple.

“And I’m proud of you, Benny Cross. You haven’t even fainted,” you chuckled and he rolled his eyes.

Benny reached his finger out to brush your little son’s cheek but he quickly took it away.

“What is it?” You asked him with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t wanna hurt ‘im. My fingers are rough and all that,” he explained.

“Don’t be silly, Benny, you won’t hurt him by touching him gently,” you encouraged him to touch his son again and so he did, very carefully. “You see?”

Benny didn’t answer, focusing on his baby. The soft and loving look on his face suddenly made all your fears wash away. You no longer feared he would leave or run away from this responsibility. Of course, you weren’t delusional enough to think it would be easy. But something about him at this moment made you sure that choosing him as a father of your child was no mistake after all.

“How do you want to name him?” You asked. “After your father perhaps?”

“No,” Benny answered very quickly and cleared his throat before looking at your confused face. “My ol’ man was a piece of shit. My ma told me once that when I was born he was pissed drunk at the bar.”

You nodded your head and you suddenly understood. You understood why Benny had been so nervous and why he had come back to be with you during the labour after all.

“Don’t wanna be like him,” he confessed suddenly and looked down.

“You won’t be,” you assured your husband and kissed his cheek. “You won’t be, baby. You already aren’t,” you pointed out. “Do you wanna name him John?” You changed the subject.

Benny looked at you with a soft smile before placing a kiss on your forehead. Then, he looked down at the little baby in your arms and he bopped his son on the nose.

“Little Johnny Cross. Sounds good to me.”

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[martiansodas-blog]

Talk me through it

Your sexual experiences were never a priority for your partners. They never even cared for you when it was over. When your friend Joel finds out, he wants to be the one to change that.

Joel Miller x reader

Contents: Smut, age gap, friends to lovers, huge praise kink, aftercare, fluff.

Authors note: My first fic in a few years

Your body in Jackson but your mind a million miles away, you were daydreaming about a man two decades your senior.

What did his hands feel like after a hard day of work? Coarse and dry most likely.

But we’re they gentle when they came in contact with someone else? When they were taking off someone’s clothes…

Snap out of it

He’s simply a regular at the bar. An acquaintance. And even that was pushing it. The only people he truly softened for was Ellie and Tommy.

You gaze at the clock : one hour left. The last hour is always the longest. Most customers had filtered out and you were cleaning with your coworker Amanda.

“How did your date go?” You asked

“Didn’t know if he was my type at first, but after he ate me out I decided he was.”

You tried to chuckle with her but your body cringed.

“You enjoy that?” You asked embarrassed.

It seemed like everyone liked it but you. Was there something wrong with you? Dumbfounded Amanda looked back at you.

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know, receiving head is just…boring. It’s not painful, it’s not exciting, it’s just meh. I’d rather move on to the main event, ya know?”

Her expression didn’t change.

“What are you talking about!? Receiving is practically the only thing that makes being born female worth it.” You both laughed as you stood on your tip toes to put a glass away.

Your words made Joel’s whole body stiff.

One night with me. One night with me and I’ll give you the head you deserve. Stupid boys your age don’t know how to pleasure a woman.

He couldn’t say that tho, especially not in public. Hell go for something calmer.

“Maybe you just haven’t been with an experienced enough person.”

You jolt around in shock. You had no idea until now he was in the bar, let alone listening to your conversation.

“Um, yeah, maybe. It’s not a big deal for me.”

You shrugged the topic off and quickly turned around making yourself busy. You went beat red knowing the most attractive man in town heard about your sex life, or lack thereof.

It’s a big deal for me, you’re torturing me here.

Joel decided he shouldn’t say anything else and risk making you uncomfortable, it wasn’t his intention. Without saying another word he headed home.

“Maybe he’s right, maybe you should have a night with someone older.” Amanda said in a suggestive voice. When you laughed this time it was out of awkwardness.

“Good one, I don’t think so. Im not one for one night stands. Plus, in a commune this size, Ive had a good look around and haven’t been attracted to any guys.”

Lie.

You and Joel were on good terms. You don’t use the word ‘friends’ because Joel isn’t really friends with anyone. At least he wouldn’t say that. He doesn’t let his walls go down enough for that. But he does care about his inner circle and that’s obvious.

You could tell you were one of the people he softened for. Mainly it was Tommy and Ellie, but somehow you always managed sneak your way in there. Most of the reason being you were giving him drinks.

Your affection for him was one sided, but it didn’t matter. He was never going to find out. Your crush just gave you something to look forward to during work.

• • •

It’s an hour before closing and Joel had yet to come in. Odd. Maybe he was under the weather today.

Pulling you from your thoughts was the bell of the door opening.

Speak of the devil

“Hey! Was wondering when you’d show up.”

He smiled at you. Thats rare. He liked a little too much that you wanted to see him. He wanted to see you too, he just still not good at expressing his emotions and letting people in.

“Whiskey?” You assumed.

“Actually, I was thinking of not drinking here tonight.”

The smirk on his face showed that he had a plan but you couldn’t figure out what in the world it was.

Why would he come to a bar if he wasn’t going to drink?

“How about I be the bartender for once. I hope that’s not forward of me to ask, but would you like to come by my place after your shift? If you’re too tired I understand-“

“Yes that sounds great, yes.” You could hear your smile in your voice.

“Alright then, peach. You know which house is mine. See ya then.” He got up and walked away.

Peach. He’d never called you that before.

Yes, you did know which house Joel lived in, but you’ve never been in it. You wondered what kind of decorations he hung up. Did it smell like him? You could barely stand still the remainder of your shift.

You have to put away your school girl crush.

• • •

As soon as it hit the hour you threw off your apron and went into the bathroom to freshen up.

You wished makeup survived the apocalypse, just a little to make your eyes pop.

What are you doing? He’s not your boyfriend.

You really must stop letting your mind wander. You ran your fingers through your hair and tried to get the smell of spilt beer off you. You don’t know what to expect. You’ve never hung out with Joel like this.

A few minutes later you’re knocking on his door. Nearly vibrating with nerves.

He opens it and

God

There’s that enchanting smile again.

It’s contagious. For a few seconds you two just gaze at each other with grins.

“Hey” you said shyly

“Glad you came, come on in.”

He opened the door as far as it went and you stepped in.

Definitely Joel Millers place.

Not much decorations, but his presence is here. Things Ellie has made for him hung around the living room. Things that survived of his from before the apocalypse. It felt homey. It felt safe.

He led the two of you into the living room. When your legs hit the couch you let out a sigh.

There were already two cold beers and glasses of water on the coffee table in front of you. Normally you don’t like to drink because you’re around it almost everyday and the smell gets annoying. But with Joel it seemed fun.

You both picked up your bottles and instead of making small talk or clinking the drinks together, you just nodded at each other and sipped.

Oh wow, this was actually kind of good. Where did he get this from? You groaned as it warmed your body.

“Haven’t been able to rest that much today. Work was busy. This is nice, Miller.”

He shifted closer to you. Closer than a acquaintance would normally sit. Not that you’re offended, you almost feel flattered. Joel speaks in actions.

“As long as you don’t go tellin people I’m nice.” He joked

“I like nice Joel.” Your voice wasn’t light anymore. “I hope I get to see more of him.”

You knew once those words came out of your mouth that they pushed a boundary. It’s a miracle anyone in this type of world is nice. It’s not an expectation you have anymore.

Your sentence didn’t seem to bother him, though. He stared at you for a few beats. He scooted once again until your knees touched. You’d never been this close to him, it was making your face get hot.

You both seem to have fallen into a comfortable silence, studying each other. There are details on his face you’ve never seen before. He pulled off facial hair like no other. His beard a mix of white, gray and brown.

You don’t know how long it stayed like this, but when you looked up at him to feel out the situation, he wasn’t looking back at you.

He was looking at your lips. You assumed they were dry or you had something on them. Instinctively you licked them.

“Don’t do that to me.” He whispered.

Your heart stopped.

“What?”

Instead of answering he put his hands on each side of your face. You made eye contact and thought you must be dreaming.

I’ve had dreams of him before, this must be another one.

But no. You can smell the drink he had and feel his big hands.

“Do you trust me?” He asked. You didn’t need time to think.

“Yes.”

In milliseconds your lips touched.

If this is a dream I never want to wake up.

The kiss starts gentle. Feather light. Sweet. Your noses bumping into each other. Not at all what you expected from Joel Miller.

You press your face into his to make the kiss more intense, but he puts his hands on your shoulders to keep you where he can be tender.

You pull away. Both taking a moment to process.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks.

You can’t help but laugh because who wouldn’t want him. Especially after that kiss.

“I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

He breaks out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Any nerves or unfamiliarity between you two is gone.

“Com’ere”

Now you’re both giggling and hugging. So happy that feelings have been confessed.

Your head nuzzled into his neck gave the perfect opportunity to whisper in his ear.

“You’re not going to break me. I want you to kiss me like I’m not delicate.”

Something snapped in him.

Maybe it was your warm breath on his ear, maybe it was that you were close enough to straddling him but not there yet. Maybe it’s because he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in town, no, on earth.

He grabs your face with more force this time. Kissing you aggressively. You enjoyed how his fingers dug into your jaw. You gasped and he took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours.

He grabbed your legs and settled you over him. It was obvious he was strong but goddamn. He lifted a fully grown woman like it was nothing. It made a fire start in your lower belly.

“I need you. I need you right here on this couch.”

You didn’t respond. Too drunk on him already. You knew once his cock touched you there’d be no thoughts left in your brain.

He chuckled at your state, snapping his fingers to get your attention.

“Sweetheart are you with me?”

“Yeah sorry, I just can’t believe I’m doing this with you. You’ve already made me feel better than any guys I’ve been on dates with and-” your words got muffled by you taking off your shirt. You went braless today.

Now Joel was the speechless one. Staring at your chest. Running his hands up and down your sides.

She isn’t real. She can’t be.

“You’re so … beautiful. Now I really can’t wait, darlin.”

With the same urgency as before he picks you up and laid you out on the couch. Kissing your stomach, not giving you time to process.

He continues kissing down your body while unbuttoning your jeans. He rips them off along with your underwear in one motion.

Jesus, fuck.

“You’re already dripping for me, aren’t you babe?”

“Yes, it’s all for you.”

He lets out a noise that can best be described as feral.

“But, um, you don’t have to do that. It’s not a big deal to me.”

The man looked up at your from between your thighs.

“Will you let me have a taste? If you say stop, I’ll stop.”

“…Okay.”

“Mmm, let me show you how a real man makes you feel.”

All apprehension and doubts you had floated away. Joel licked up both sides of your folds slowly, and you swore you could cum right then.

Your core fluttered around nothing. You needed it again and again and again. He was taking his time with you. Mapping your body out. His tongue making sure to know every inch of you.

The deeper his tongue went, the more your body relaxed. You don’t think it has ever relaxed this much.

The house filled with sinful noises. Your moans, him lapping against you, the couch cousins being gripped.

When he groaned it sent vibrations through your whole body, pushing you closer to the edge.

He went back to licking you from bottom to top. Flattening his tongue as much as possible. Leaving a kiss on your clit before going to the other side.

I love it when he does that. God.

He started to pick up his pace. Inserting his tongue as deep as it goes. Eating you out like a starved man. And he was. You were his new favorite meal. He’s perfectly fine with not getting laid tonight and doing this instead.

“Fuck please- ohh-”

He loves that he can make you sound like that. It makes his cock beg to get out of his pants.

“Joel,” you whimpered out, grabbing his hair.

“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me. You’re the sweetest fuckin thing.”

His words were sweet but his tone was filthy. It made your back arch. He knew you were close. He kicked it up a notch and inserted a finger in you.

You gasped at the size and feel. You could finally clench around something and your body was so happy.

“Fuck it feels so good! I’m close.”

I know you are

“You’re doing so good.”

He added a finger and moved them in a come hither motion.

You were done for. His calloused hands bringing you to release. He kept pumping in and out of you, getting all he could of your liquid. When he saw you regaining your breathing he removed his hand.

Laying there for a few minutes with half lidded eyes, you felt like you were on drugs. You were trying to find your composure but your body wouldn’t stop tingling.

The man who just gave you your best orgasm crawls up and appears in your view.

“Hey there sweetheart.”

He has the biggest smirk on his face, arms on either side of you. You don’t care. You’d give everything up if it meant you’d get more of his talent in your future.

“That was incredible.” You exhale

“For me, too.”

In what was becoming classic Joel Miller fashion, he presses the gentlest of kisses to your lips, then rests his forehead against yours.

“Did I wear you out?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. I have a lot planned.”

You bite your lip in anticipation.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

He liked the nickname.

“Yeah, but I prefer to fuck my pretty lady on my bed.”

With that he stood up and carried you bridal style to his room. It was darker in there with one orange lamp on which made the mood even more sensual. He placed you on his bed and resumed the position he was in before.

“I’m gonna make sure you feel me tomorrow, sweetheart.”

You let out a whimper. Crashing into another kiss.

It was his turn to take off clothes.

You hastily unbuttoned his flannel and threw it across the room. He would laugh at your urgency if he wasn’t just as bad.

You smooth your hand over his new bare skin. Soft with scars. You reached his belt and he pushed your hands away to do it himself. Taking the belt then his jeans off much faster than you could’ve.

You stared at his outline, unable to mask your expression. You can tell he’s big without even seeing it yet. By the smirk on his face, he knows it too. You were really boosting his ego tonight.

“You gonna gawk all night or should I take it out?”

Fuchsia creeping onto your cheeks.

“I don’t think I’ve been with anyone your caliber before.” You say meekly, still looking at his clothed cock.

He bring his face right above yours and tilts your chin so your eyes meet.

“Sweet girl, I’ll be gentle. I’ll start slow for you.”

You’re reassured. You feel safe with him.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

He brings his lips to meet yours once more. Not breaking it while he tugs off his boxers.

Your breath quickens as you get nervous again. He immediately takes notice and strokes your cheek. Caring about you in every touch.

You feel the head of his cock meet your entrance. Your head falls back against the pillows. He takes this as a sign to push in a few inches deeper.

“That’s my girl.”

Your gasps like angels singing. Your legs squeezing around me because you need more.

Joel goes like this for several minutes. Pushing in, letting you adjust, making sure he doesn’t immediately cum, then pushing again.

You needed movement. Unable to control the pleas that left your mouth.

“Joel, fuck me. I can take it. Stretch me out.”

He can’t say no to you. Especially when you’re like this.

He pulls almost completely out of you then slams back in. Going from 0 to 100. His tip touching your cervix.

He was reaching depths of you no man ever had before. You couldn’t help but be loud.

“I know baby, I know. Let it all out.”

His words made you moan even more. You’re so turned on it got caught in your throat. No one had ever talked you through it before. No one had said such dirty things to you while making you feel this good. No one has made you feel as good as you deserved.

“So good. So good for me.”

You were so wet it was seeping out of you and onto the sheets. You’ve had the briefest feel of him and are already addicted. You rolled your hips into him and hooked your legs around his waist. Instantly he groaned at the feeling.

“Just like that baby, there you go.” His low voice registered in your ear. You always admired the sound of his voice but you never thought it’d be praising you. It was a fucking drug.

He kissed you hard on the mouth and it made the little bit of your body you had control over go limp. He took this opportunity to take your hands and pin them together above your head. It turned you on so much, your back began to arch. Anyone within a ten mile radius would be able to hear you.

Joel had to focus to get a complete sentence out because of how tight you were clenched around him.

“You sound so good. I love hearing how I make my girl feel. You’re so spent on my cock, aren’t you?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Of course you are. Never truly been taken care of, have you?

“N-No.” you whimpered.

“Think you can take more of me, sweet thing?” He let your hands go so he could caress your cheek.

You were nervous but you nodded.

“Good girl.” He smirked at you when he said it. He loved how much power he had over you.

He grabs your legs and put them over his shoulder. With intense speed starts fucking you again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he pulled obscene noises from your mouth.

“Oh god oh god”

“That’s my girl. I love being buried in your perfect cunt.”

Your back was arching, your fists were gripping the sheets and your clit was throbbing. Your orgasm was nearing quickly.

Your moans got higher and closer together as your legs squeezed around him.

“Words baby, use your words.”

“Fuck, I’m close. Oh I’m close, oh Joel please. It feels so fucking good.”

He knew exactly what you needed. He circled your clit with his rough thumb and continued to thrust into you hard.

“Good girl, cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

“Oh god oh god-”

You came harder than you ever have before. Leaving a mess on and beneath you. Your ears have a light ringing in them and you were seeing stars. You couldn’t even register if Joel was still near you until you felt a warm washcloth bringing you back to reality.

You opened your eyes and saw him. Someone you knew now you couldn’t live without.

He delicately rubbed one of your legs with one hand and cleaned you up with the other. Making sure you wouldn’t be uncomfortable if you fell asleep right there, which after that experience, was likely.

His actions are a huge juxtaposition to his reputation. He is not stoic and harsh and self centered. He is caring and affectionate and thoughtful.

You smiled up at him while half asleep.

“Thank you.” You managed to choke out. Your voice was half gone.

“Of course, darlin. It’s only the decent thing to do.”

He tossed the cloth on the floor and placed a soft blanket under where you both came. He’d wash the sheets later.

“No guy I’ve been with has really given me aftercare before…”

For some reason saying that was more venerable than the act you just did with him. Your face feels hot.

“You deserve so much more than what’s been given to you. And I don’t just mean with sex.”

You knew if either of you said much else you’d burst into tears. You made grabby hands at him and the two of you fell into a warm cuddle, touching as much of each others skin as possible.

“Goodnight, cowboy.”

He kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight, peach.”

[e-dubbc11]

To Love You More

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: mentions of Billy’s abandonment, love confessions, maybe a swear word or two, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 2.3K-ish

Summary: Billy shows up at your apartment drunk. You’re surprised at what he has to tell you.

A/N: Based off of the song To Love You More by Celine Dion (don’t you judge me 🤣, the violin in it is really pretty) Sunday mornings are my alone time so I was food prepping and serenading my dog when the song came on so I continued to sing to her and this idea popped in my head. I hope you like it ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The three loud raps against your door startled you.

The noise scared you bad enough to cause you to toss some of your popcorn onto the floor. You managed to regain control of your wine glass before you dropped that onto the floor too. Pausing the movie, you placed the bowl and wine glass onto the coffee table and cautiously walked over to the door.

The clock on the microwave read 1:25 AM.

The three knocks came again along with a voice you recognized. “B-baby you awake?” He boomed from the other side of the door.

“Billy? Is that you?” You asked, relaxing a little when you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“C-can y-you lemme in s-sweet girl? P-please? I-I f-feel like I’m gonna f-fall over.” He slurred.

Oh boy…

Billy had an event for his company, Anvil, tonight. As CEO, he had to make an appearance but by the sounds of it, he stayed a little longer than he probably should have.

Your relationship with Billy was still somewhat new; he hadn’t asked you to accompany him to one of these events yet and you were using the term “boyfriend” loosely.

The two of you spent a lot of time together but you just assumed he didn’t want to put a label on it and you couldn’t shake the feeling you were just setting yourself up for a heartbreak because you knew a lot of men like Billy…and dated them. They didn’t have relationships or want them; they just played with you until they were ready to move on.

But unless Billy was an exceptionally good actor, he really seemed like he was having a lot of fun with you and in turn, you were having a lot of fun with him. More than anything, you wanted this relationship to work because he made you feel loved even if he hadn’t said it out loud.

You opened the door. Billy stood leaning against the doorframe; his tie was loose around his neck. Normally perfectly styled, his ebony colored hair was slightly tousled and grazed the top of his eyebrows, and the top buttons on his crisp white dress shirt were undone. He still looked incredibly handsome.

Billy’s cheeks were flushed from the chilly winter air as he greeted you with that familiar million-dollar smile. His eyes were halfway open and you could still smell the bourbon on his breath as he pinched your chin and gave you a slightly sloppy kiss.

“W-well don’t you look a-adorable!” He exclaimed.

You chuckled a little and bit back a smile because you were just wearing pajama pants and a ribbed tank top. It wasn’t anything special.

“I-I had that work th-thing tonight.” He said, gliding into your apartment and trying not to lose his balance. “I-I might ha-have had a little tooooooo much to drink.”

“Yes, it does seem like you had one too many.” You said, biting back a slight smile. “Come on, lieutenant. Can you make it over to the couch?”

Billy started to carefully walk over to the couch when he looked down and noticed your spilled popcorn.

“Y-you sp-spilled some, baby. Oh shit…d-did I sc-scare you when I knocked on the d-door?” He asked, trying his best to not slur his words.

“A little.” You replied. “But it’s ok. What are you doin’ here, Billy?”

After removing his jacket, you helped Billy sit down. His long, slender fingers grazed the skin of your lower back when he lifted the hem of your tank top as he planted himself on your couch. Shivers danced up and down your spine while goosebumps sprinkled across your exposed skin. His touches always burned your skin in the most delightful way, every time.

“I-I just missed youuuuu. Y-you shoulda come w-with me tonight. Oh, I-I probably should have asked you to come with m-me.” He said, nervously.

It had to be the alcohol making him say all this but it made your heart swell to hear that he missed you.

Making sure he was seated firmly on the couch, you tried to let go of his hand to walk away. “I’m gonna get you some water and ibuprofen, I’ll be right back.”

Billy didn’t let go of your hand.

“I scared y-you tonight, huh. I g-guess I just scare everyone. Anyone that tries to get close, I p-push them away. I p-pushed my mother away too, ya know. Sh-she didn’t want me either.” He said, his voice a little steadier.

Billy didn’t talk much about his childhood. You knew he was a product of the system but he didn’t elaborate on that after he told you. That was the first time he had ever mentioned his mother to you.

Crouching down in front of him, you looked into his eyes, brushed the bristles of his beard with your thumbs and replied, “You haven’t pushed ME away, baby. I’ll always want you.”

With his other hand, he pushed back the hair that had fallen into his eyes so he could get a better look at you. His mouth split into a shy smile as he leaned in to touch his forehead to yours. The scent of bourbon was on his lips as he softly pressed them against your freshly cleansed skin and you inhaled the aroma of his spicy cologne.

“I-I don’t want to push you away, my love. I’ve waited a long time for you.” Whispered Billy. “Y-you let me be…me. I love you, y/n.”

Billy didn’t know what he was saying; he couldn’t have meant that. The alcohol flowing through his veins clearly allowed him to talk freely and tell you things that he never told anyone else. You thought maybe he would later regret doing that but it was too late now.

“Ok, you’ve had a lot more to drink than I thought and I know you don’t mean that but I’ve told you before, you can always be yourself with me, Billy. I will never judge you.” You said in barely more than a whisper as his eyelids became heavy and you coaxed him to swing his legs up onto the couch. “Lie back for me, baby. Thaaaaat’s it…”

“No, I really do mean it y/n!” Said Billy, in a slightly elevated tone.

“Oooooook, time to get some sleep, soldier.” You replied, playfully.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. His lean body was fully stretched out with one hand resting on his chest, the other was draped off the side with his knuckles barely skimming the floor as you gingerly covered him with a blanket.

Before turning off the living room lamp, you watched Billy sleep for a few minutes, stroking his handsome face with your knuckles and you warmed his skin as you lightly pressed your lips to his cheek and then to his lips.

He didn’t move.

In the gathering darkness, before going to your bedroom, you whispered in Billy’s ear, “I’m always here for you, Billy. I love you too…goodnight my love.”

Your pillow cradled your head as you stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Billy’s confessions to you that left you wondering if he meant any of what he had said and would he remember any of it? If you were to put any money on it, you would have said he wouldn’t remember any of it, deny that he even said anything, or blame the alcohol and he didn’t mean a word of it.

Before drifting off to sleep, a slight smile stretched across your lips. He came to you wanting nothing more than to tell you that he missed you, that he wanted you by his side tonight and upset with himself that he didn’t ask. With zero hesitation, you would have said yes.

Well…there was always next time.

**********

Your eyes lightly fluttered opened and closed again as the mattress dipped underneath you. A warm body spooned up behind you and Billy kissed your bare shoulder. A handful of hours must have passed as the early morning sky was just starting to lighten. He must have stripped down to his boxer briefs because you felt his skin touch yours as his long arms wrapped around your waist.

Humming into your ear, he kissed the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You loved when he did that and a soft moan of his name escaped your lips as a reflex.

“Mmmmm…Billy.” You said.

Billy buried his head into your neck like a cat, desperately wanting to be as close as he possibly could to you. He gripped you tightly, possessively like he was afraid to let you go as he purred into your ear, “You meant it, right baby? That you’ll always be there for me?”

In the liquid darkness, you turned to face him. You couldn’t see him with the exception of some of his features. His lips were close to yours as he repeated, “I heard you. You said you’d always be there. I’m not making that up, right?”

Slowly, you extended your hand, reached for him, and started to gently rake your nails against his scalp as you replied, “Of course, Billy. As long as you want me, I’m here baby.”

“As long as I want you?” He questioned. “As long as YOU want ME!” He said.

Billy’s lips crashed against yours, his hands tightly gripped your waist, your lips parted as his tongue slipped into your mouth, wanting to tangle with yours. His raven colored hair glided in between your fingers and you could feel a trace of his smile against your lips as he continued to kiss you in the softly filtered glow of your bedroom.

After and holding you in a firm embrace, he told you about his mother and it wasn’t a mystery anymore of why he didn’t trust people, or why he didn’t let anyone get too close. He was afraid of being abandoned again.

Billy never wanted to feel the way he did standing outside that fire station, a scared little boy wondering what he did wrong for his mother to leave him and never come back. It wasn’t his fault and you made sure to tell him that he did not push her away. That was all her doing.

As he spoke, you wondered if Billy could ever completely forgive his mother for what she did. And if he could, he’s a much better person than you are because you could never forgive her for that. The dull ache in your chest persisted as you felt your heart break for him.

Billy was a child, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but she earned everything she got in return. She didn’t deserve a second chance, not after abandoning her own child like she did.

The stars slowly disappeared as the sky started to brighten. And in that early morning light, you could finally see Billy’s dark eyes fixed on yours, like he was waiting until he could actually see you to say what he wanted to say next.

“I know you thought I was too drunk or that I didn’t mean it but I do mean it, sweet girl. I love you. I’ve never told anyone about her except you because I feel like—“ Billy said then paused.

It was a struggle for him to tell you how he really felt but he was trying and you could never fault him for wanting to be better.

He continued.

“I feel like I can…trust you.”

Love and trust…those were two things Billy never thought he’d ever experience. You’ve never given him a reason not to trust you. He said it earlier…”You let me be…me.” If he wanted to talk, you would let him and no matter how much or how little he wanted to say, that was enough for you.

Even though he had trouble verbalizing how he was feeling, he would show you how much he cares with a surprise cup of coffee at work in the middle of the day, or a donut from the place down the street because you “like their sprinkles,” a walk in the park on a warm sunny day, or reading to you because he knows you love listening to his voice.

Those were just a few of the ways Billy Russo expressed his feelings for you. Deep down in the pit of your stomach, you knew he meant what he said. Those three little words he never expressed until tonight…to anyone.

Feeling the warmth of his skin, you inched closer to him and his gentle exhale brushed against your lashes; you gave him a warm smile and gently pressed your lips to his.

“I love you too, baby. And you can trust me that no one will ever love you more than I do.” You said softly against his lips.

The night blackened window of your bedroom had started to brighten with the sun attempting to break through the small space in between your curtains as you held each other in silence.

Sometimes words weren’t always necessary. Actions speak volumes and really attest to someone’s feelings and intentions toward you. Putting his trust in you helped to pick up the pieces of Billy’s broken heart and carefully put it back together again.

Billy didn’t say anything else and he didn’t have to. The way his lips crushed against yours, how he lovingly kissed every inch of you, his fingers tracing all the curves and hollows of your body, and how gentle he was when he caressed your face…there wasn’t any doubt in your mind now that Billy Russo adored you, that he only wanted to be with you, and more than anything, that he loved you.

I’ll be waiting for you

Here inside my heart

I’m the one who wants to love you more

You will see I can give you

Everything you need

Let me be the one to love you more

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

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If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[oik-tooru]

KEY CHANGE — s. koushi

CHAPTER 11 - FROM ME TO YOU

a/n HAHA SURPRISE HERE IT IS MY FAVORITE CHAPTER AAAAAHHHH

m. list

the small apartment was bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights, casting long shadows on the walls. the living room, cozy and cluttered with a mix of books and plants, was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. i sat on the couch, fidgeting with the edge of a cushion, trying to steady my racing heart.

the door creaked open, and he walked in—my new closest friend, someone who had unknowingly become the center of my thoughts. i had invited him over under the pretense of catching up, but i knew this evening held more weight.

"hey, sorry I'm late," he said, slipping off his shoes and heading toward the kitchen. "traffic was a nightmare, but i still managed to get us some food!”

i managed a smile, though it felt strained. "no problem. I was just getting things ready."

he settled next to me, the familiar warmth of his presence both comforting and unnerving. i took a deep breath, the words i had rehearsed countless times suddenly seeming inadequate.

"so," i began, my voice wavering slightly, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

he looked at me, his eyes full of curiosity and concern. "what’s up? you look serious."

i swallowed hard, the moment of truth finally upon me. "i... I’ve been feeling something for a while now. It’s more than just friendship."

i could see his eyes widen, a mix of surprise and something else flickering across his face. i continued, the words flowing more freely now, "i care about you a lot, and lately, i’ve realized that my feelings for you have grown into something deeper. i think i’m falling in love with you."

the room fell silent, the only sound the steady ticking of the wall clock. he looked at me, searching for the right words. "i had no idea you felt this way," he said softly. "i... i don’t know what to say."

i nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment but also relief. "i understand. i didn’t want to make things awkward between us. i just had to be honest about how I feel."

he took a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine with a newfound intensity. "actually," he began, a small smile forming, "i’ve been feeling something similar, but i’ve been too scared to say anything, afraid of ruining what we have."

a wave of hope washed over me, and we both laughed nervously, the tension easing. "so, where does that leave us?" i asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"maybe," he said, reaching for my hand, "it leaves us exactly where we’re supposed to be—together."

i squeezed his hand, a smile breaking through my nervousness. the apartment, with its soft lighting and familiar surroundings, felt like the perfect backdrop for this new chapter. as i leaned in closer, the room seemed to fill with the promise of something beautiful yet to unfold.

koushi slowly reached up, his fingers delicately brushing back a strand of my hair. the gentle heat radiating from my cheeks seemed to mirror the fluttering sensation in my own chest, and for a moment, the world outside the apartment faded away, leaving just the two of us enveloped in the sweet, shy intimacy of the moment.

“you do realize the others are going to have a field day when they find out right?” he chuckled.

i laughed along with him, absentmindedly leaning my face into his touch, craving for more of his warmth. “let them have their fun.”

taglist (closed)

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[godhandler]

underground boxer!geto x always-bets-on-him!gojo

“Gonna meet him today at least, champion?” Shiu, boxing manager ever unflappable, leans against the lockers. Cigarette butts,  mannerless spit, crushed energy drink cans, orphaned underwear littered about the dingy greenroom. Showbizz cheapness. Suguru doesn’t look like he belongs here. You don't, Shiu had told him, pressed-shirt schoolboy who’d showed up to fight for a couple hundred yen. Grab the money and fuck off the second you can.

Suguru’s hair is longer now. College scholarship, parents he doesn’t talk to, steady paycheck from the steady boxing wins. Right now, Suguru wipes the sweat off his shoulders and re-fixes his bun. Fine then, if you don’t want to leave. Go professional, kid. You’ve got what it takes. Shiu still doesn’t get it, does he? That Suguru Geto enjoys it? The disgusting stale-sweat smell, the filthy betters, the peanut baskets and the puking outside the rails? Growing pains, he calls it, the genuine delight of broken ribs and bloody mouths writhing on the ground of the ring, begging for his mercy, the crowd chanting his name, calls for execution, the god-like adrenaline of the moment? 

Suguru would sooner acknowledge that private tinge of insane evil in his constitution than leave the underground arena where he indulges in it. 

“Hey, boy!” Shiu snaps his fingers. “I said, Gojo-sama’s outside again. I’m telling you, meet him once, it’ll be good for us all.”

“Didn’t you tell me not to mess with the rich folks?” Suguru is adamant. “Heir of the Gojo clan? Nah, he’ll want some weird shit. For the last time, Shiu, I’m not gonna fuck any of their ugly asses.”

Shiu drops and crushes his cigarette out with his shoe. 

“Or their wives either. Now,” Suguru pulls his sweatshirt on. For a famous (as in, famous within the wrong circles)  underground boxer, he had his head on straight. “Pay me out and clock me out. I’m gonna soak in an sauna, Nanami fucked my right arm up.”

“Some rinky-dinky sauna like this room? I own a better one, you know?” Young Satoru Gojo, peeping uninvited through the door, wasn't of the sort to cast favourable first impressions. Or the second, or the third, to be honest. He was of the sort to rely on his dashing doll-shine looks and wallet fatter than Somalia’s GDP to overcome his personality. Unfortunately, Suguru Geto wasn’t so inclined. 

“Is knocking going out of fashion, sh–?”

“– Gojo-sama! What an honour!” Shiu bowed politely. He didn’t like Gojo any better than Geto did, but at his age, he could smell the money (and beer) on the heir. He plays this correctly and he’ll be vacationing in Majorca next week. “I suppose you two boys haven’t met each other?”

“Satoru Gojo, big fan.” Hand extended, teeth-fangs grinning. 

Impolite. Annoying, Suguru assessed. Interesting. “Suguru Geto, thanks.” Firm handshake. Confident…too confident. 

“Would you want a good sauna? I could take you to one in Shinjuku, it’s a bit late but hey, you’ve made me a fortune today!” Gojo pats his pocket happily, a dull rustle of stashed cash. 

Just like the others. Typical. If Suguru was even a little interested in Satoru, that was the end of it. “Pardon me, but I haven’t the time tonight.” And just to twist the knife further into the boy’s falling smile, he added, “Other patrons, you see.”

Suguru packed his duffle bag up and left. The air out the arena was cold, the feeling of Satoru’s eyes watching him everywhere. 

[twitterpated-passion]

Change | Monster Boyfriend

You weren’t a fan of change. It was just something new to get used to, and you didn’t see the point of changing your schedule when it already was fine. But then you were broken up with, and a morning text turned into silence, a midweek date after work turned into eating at the diner alone, and every little thing that reminded you of him was either returned to him, or thrown in a box that was shoved deep into your closet.

You weren’t a fan of change. But you were forced to become one. Because if you didn’t, you’d still be stuck in the past, and you didn’t want to think about him anymore. Even if you two did still live in the same small town that the both of you grew up in.

🌩--🌩--🌩

Your hand came down on the alarm, shutting up the annoying beeping that was the only reason you bought the thing in the first place. Taking a breath, you rubbed your eyes, sat up and stretched, feeling your bones pop and crack as you moved the blanket, turned your legs off the bed, and stood up, albeit begrudgingly.

After a shower and getting dressed, you went into the small kitchen of your townhouse, making yourself a bowl of oatmeal to at least eat something before you went into work. You got used to leaving your phone by your bedside table, preferring not to use it in the morning anymore, since in the beginning you’d wait like a dog does its master for that simple ‘good morning’ text. You shook your head free from the thought before you went down that rabbit hole, eating your somewhat bland breakfast, washing up the dishes and setting them aside to dry.

You slipped a pair of shoes on, and then grabbed your bag, going back to your room to grab your phone. Shoving it into your pocket, you made your way out the door and into your car, even though it was only ten minutes away if you walked. Still, you drove to your place of work, a quaint little pop and pop florist shop, owned by an older couple who used to babysit you when you were a kid.

You walked in, hearing the bell and going into the back to clock in, then going out to flip the sign to show that the shop was open and you found your seat behind the counter. Hearing steps behind you, you glanced back, smiling when you saw Laurie and Samuel. You saw the Dwarf and Elf smile back at you, and you leaned against the counter when you turned the stool to look at them. “You two are down here early, what’s the occasion?”

“Nothing,” Laurie was quick to dismiss, but the glance down to his husband was more than enough to tell you that it wasn’t just nothing.

“You’re still a bad liar, Laurie,” you said. “You two gonna tell me the truth or what?”

Laurie grimaced, but much to his visible relief, Samuel started speaking, voice gruff, like he just woke up, which he probably did, the Dwarf was never an early riser. “We thought you’d do better in tha’ back today, hm?”

“And…why’s that?” You asked, brows knitting together. You never went in the back, ever. It was always something Samuel took over because he liked the gardening aspect, while Laurie was the star seller out of the three of you. “Did I do something?”

They shook their heads quickly and Laurie took back over. “No…just…you know how this town is, people talk.”

“Right, we live in a small town, what’s going on?” The Elf took a breath, biting his lip.

“We know how hard you took the breakup, and we didn’t want you to be upfront if Callum comes in today,” he said after a moment. You tensed, but managed to ask one thing before your mind went blank.

“Why would he even come in here? He’s like the last guy that would come in here…” Trailing off, your heart clenched, but you weren’t going to show what you were thinking, not if it had the chance that you were wrong.

The two, however, noticed, reading the way your hands clenched your knees and how your shoulders got stiff. “...It’s going around that he’s going on a date with a new hire at the garage.”

You tried not to react, you really, truly did, but no matter how soft Laurie’s tone was, you still bit back the urge to tear up, your fists clenching against your legs. It had only been three months since the break up, and while you knew that he was allowed to move on, start dating again, you couldn’t help the way that the thought of him dating someone else made you feel. It was only natural, the two of you were dating for almost five years, starting right after the two of you graduated high school, and he moved on after three months.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt their hands on your legs, and you shook your head, forcing yourself to act normally. “I’ll be fine,” you started, a bit weakly, “we’re not together, he can do what he wants.”

Managing a smile, you breathe out a huff, and turn back to the front door of the shop, knowing that if you looked at them and their sympathetic expression, you would’ve broken down.

You could handle it. You were going to have to.

🌩--🌩--🌩

The shop never got many customers during a work day, most of the customers coming right after they get off for a date night, an apology bouquet or just something for their partner. Your foot was tapping against the stool the entire time you were sitting, and you could help but pace around whenever you had to get up. You hated the fact that the thought of him coming in made you this nervous, but you had good reason to when the bell rang, and Laurie failed to greet the heavy steps.

You didn’t look at him for a while, keeping your back facing him as he talked quietly to Laurie, getting a bundle of roses and carnations, pink and red. Your hands trembled, and you turned in the stool to price the bouquet, never meeting his gaze when he placed the flowers down beside the old monitor you and the other two used to check people out.

“Hi,” Callum said after a couple seconds of tense silence, his low voice more familiar than anyone else’s in your life. You looked up at the Minotaur, your eyes meeting his brown gaze, the fur on his face still slightly dirty, and his hands stained from his work at the garage.

“Thirteen-fifty is your total,” you said in response, almost bitter in your lack of wanting to make small talk with him. It pained you to be cold to him, but he didn’t say anything else to you, simply handing you his card and letting you read it in the machine, handing it back to him with a receipt seconds after. You let Laurie give him the ‘have a nice day’ shtick, walking back to ‘help’ out Samuel, even though the work day was over in an hour and a half.

You heard the bell to the door right as you walked back, and your back hit the wall, getting Samuel’s attention right as tears welled in your waterline, your bottom lip trembled and you sniffled, shutting your eyes tightly to stop yourself from crying. But despite your efforts, the tears ran down your cheeks, and soon you had both men trying to comfort you, holding you in both of their arms to offer any form of solace.

They closed the shop early, something you tried to argue with, but you learned quickly that you couldn’t really speak while crying, so it didn’t work other than making you seem like a mess, which you admittedly were. And when the sign was flipped and the door was locked, the blinds sitting over the windows, they all but dragged you up to the apartment above the shop, the home you practically grew up in with the amount of times that they babysat you. It was to keep you from being upset and alone at your own place, you knew that, they sure as hell knew that. You didn’t blame them though.

Laurie made dinner for the three of you and Samuel settled beside you, rough hand holding onto yours as he let you flick through movie after movie until you settled on one you considered one of your favorites.

As the movie played and the three of you were gouging on carbs, you sat off to the side, letting the couple sit beside each other, even though at first they were hesitant to not have you in the middle. You were better tucked into the arm of their small couch though, it let you think and drown out the movie you’ve seen more times than you can count.

Seeing Callum earlier both made your heart race and stabbed it with a knife at the same time. He wasn’t there for you, like he was times before, and if you knew why the breakup happened…if he would’ve given you at least some closure, you would’ve been fine- happy for him even. But it was only three months since it happened, and you still had no idea what happened to cause him to want to break up with you. It was like a switch flipped and suddenly you were single.

You closed your eyes once you were done eating, setting your empty plate aside and dragging a hand down your face to get you out of your thoughts. You were just going to have to accept it. That was the only thing you were able to do at that point.

🌩--🌩--🌩

It was four months since the breakup, and three weeks since Callum came in last. He hadn’t been in since, which didn’t exactly mean much, since he never really did flowers unless it was a birthday or anniversary, and even then he focused more on interests than just flowers. But you hadn’t heard anything else about his date with the new hire in his garage. You had practically bullied Laurie and Samuel into telling you anything, and it came up to nothing, so you chalked it up to nothing being shared, or nothing happening between the two.

You felt weird, being so into your ex’s personal life, but if anything, he invited you into it by going to the shop he knew you worked at to buy flowers for them. No- that just felt petty.

The shop’s bell ringing snapped you out of your thoughts, petty and otherwise, and you looked up, parting your lips to speak, before you snapped your mouth shut when you saw that it was the Minotaur you were just thinking about. You looked down at papers, acting like you haven’t seen him and silently wishing Laurie was still out here instead of in the back with Samuel. It meant you actually had to talk to him.

You glanced up when you heard him say your name, and after breathing out a sigh, you got up from the stool, walking over to the flowers. “Roses and carnations?”

“No, actually. I’m not here for flowers…” There he was. There was the Callum you knew. “The shop closes in an hour, yea?”

You nodded. “Like it normally does.”

He paused for a moment, and nodded, walking up to you and reaching out to brush his fingers against your arm. “Do you wanna go to Izzie’s after you’re off? Our usual table? I need to talk to you.”

It sounded serious, and you didn’t miss the way his soft voice made your heart flip. “...About?”

“...I really just want to tell you then…so…please?” He was begging now. He was actually begging. You closed your eyes for a few seconds and you nodded, looking up at him when you opened your eyes.

“Fine…fine, I’ll go,” you said. Your expression softened when you saw his deep brown eyes light up, the evening glow coming in through the windows making the color look like it had golden flakes mixed with the brown.

“Great- perfect, thank you. It’s my treat, so don’t worry about whatever you get.” Your brow twitched and furrowed, but you nodded again, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t,” he said, lifting a hand. “Just- just let me treat you, ok?”

“Ok,” you breathe out, watching him with a sigh.

The last hour went by slowly, feeling like it was an entire day, and the moment the clock hit seven, you raced out with barely a ‘see ya’ to Laurie and Samuel. With your bag gripped tightly in your hand, you unlocked your car and threw it into your passenger seat, getting into the driver’s seat afterwards. You pulled out onto the road and began driving across town to Izzie’s.

When you pulled in, you managed to pull in beside his van, the nostalgia and familiarity of the late nights in it sending you whirling, but you got out of your car, locked it up and headed straight into the front doors. You were sure you looked desperate, wanting something akin to how you were back when you were with Callum, and you knew you should be trying to move on…trying to get over him, but gods, did you not want to do anything resembling moving on when he asked you to the spot you guys had weekly date nights at.

And when you saw him, your heart started racing, seeing that he was sitting in the booth the two of you used to sit in every wednesday. You forced yourself to slow yourself to a walking pace, making your way over to him before slipping into the booth, sitting across from him as if you didn’t care for any of this.

He smiled when he saw you, and pushed his menu over to you. “Pick what you want. Even if it’s your usual.”

“You know you don’t have to pay for me,” you said after taking a quick glance at the menu. You knew what you were getting, it was all you ever got when you came here. Nothing could go wrong with a vanilla shake and loaded fries in your mind.

“Yea, but I want to,” he responded, waving the thought of him not doing it away. “I invited you out, I’ll pay.”

You let out a breath, but nodded and set the menu down, pushing it away. Your leg bounced, not stopping until a large hand touched your knee and your eyes met his. “Why’re you nervous, Moonlight?”

You could barely process the pet name, tensing under his touch and staring at him with furrowed brows. “...We’re exes…why wouldn’t I be nervous that you wanted to talk?”

Something flashed in his eyes, something that you thought looked akin to hurt the way his lips pursed a little, and he moved back, moving the long hair from his eyes, then on the normal chain he wore on his horns after he got off of work. “Do you want to start talking now or after we get food?” “Now, please…” you said. He nodded and moved his hand from your knee, then held his hand out, palm up. He left his hand there, even after you didn’t take it, keeping the offer there.

“Right…right…” Callum breathed out, his bullnose ring glinting in the light. “I regret breaking up with you…”

You tensed again, your thoughts spinning around you, and it felt like the world around you went silent. He…he regretted it? “...You regret it?”

“Yea,” he started. “...If…if it’s alright with you…I’d…I’d like to try again…maybe?”

Your lips parted and you gave him a look that just screamed confusion, mixed a hint of disbelief. “You want to…try again? After breaking up with me out of nowhere and going out on a date with someone else?”

He flinched at the questions and gave you an apologetic look, trying to grab your hand. “...Let me explain…-”

You smacked his hand away and stood up, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “Let you explain what? Why you want me back, or why you broke up with me?”

He glanced around and tried to usher you back in the booth. “Moonlight, please sit down,” he said softly.

“Or what?” He took a pause, sighing and standing, grabbing your arm before you could pull it away and guiding the both of you outside and to your cars, lifting his hands when you settled against your passenger’s side door.

“Please, don’t fight with me,” Callum said after a moment. “Let me explain…whether you accept it or not is up to you, but please just hear me out.”

You took awhile to answer, and you didn’t even do it verbally, offering him a single nod and a hand wave. He sighed again. “I know saying that I want to try again after going on a date with someone else is…not the best thing to hear…and I promise it’s not because the date didn’t go well. I genuinely regret breaking up with you and I’m such an idiot for doing it.”

“Then why did you do it?” You asked, not trying to fight, or to respond sounding like an ass, just…wanting to know.

“I didn’t want you to hate me,” he responded.

“What? Why would I hate you?” Callum slowly reached his hand out, waiting for you to grab it and his expression softened when you did.

“We got together out of high school…we were our first actual relationship and…I didn’t want you to start resenting me for holding you back in the future…and I…I knew it wouldn’t happen, but the possibility of me feeling the same made me want to die…I just thought we’d be better if we explored…” He trailed off when he was done, waiting for a response from you, his nerves apparent.

It took you another long, drawn out moment before you finally replied to him. “And you regret doing it now?”

He nodded. “Yea…I was regretting it when I did it…but I thought it’d get better, that if I just held out you’d be happier. And I went on the date…I can’t say I hated it, because they were nice, but I was thinking of you the entire time, how you’d react if I took you there…what you’d wear, which place we’d go to after, what movie we’d inevitably fall asleep to…”

Your heart was pounding again, a slow but loud sound hammering away at your ribs. But he spoke before you could. “I still…- you’re the person I think of when I wake up, and you’re the person I think of when I go to bed and I hate that I ruined us when I still constantly think about how much I love you.”

“Callum…” you said softly, squeezing back when he squeezed your hand. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“...I don’t know…I thought you’d think I was ridiculous or something…”

“So you went straight to break up with me?” You pushed up from your car, taking a step towards the Minotaur. “You should’ve talked to me.”

“I know I should’ve. And I regret that I didn’t, but I don’t want what we had to end…will you at least think about giving me a second chance?”

You didn’t have to think when you nodded, grabbing his other hand and squeezing them both. “...I’ll think about it. But you have to earn that, alright?”

He managed a smile, nodding back at you firmly. “I’ll make you weak in the knees faster than you can blink.”

And to tease him, you blinked, grinning when he laughed.

🌩--🌩--🌩

It was exactly four months later, but you were three ‘second chance’ dates in with Callum, finally folding after he consistently made an effort, constantly threatening being late to his shift at the garage to drop off a coffee, tea or pastry at the shop, and to occasionally earn a kiss on the cheek after he kissed yours. Laurie and Samuel were practically sick at seeing the two of you, despite the amount of PDA the couple were giving each other at every possible opportunity.

At that very moment though, you were relaxing on the worn couch in Callum’s home garage, watching him work on his van and all in all, enjoying your day off.

“You’re awfully quiet, Moonlight,” Callum said, wiping his hands off with an old rag. “What’s on your pretty, little mind?”

Your cheeks warmed, but you rolled your eyes. “Just admiring, Sunshine.”

“Yea? You still into something you’ve seen for five years?” He asked, teasing tone blatant.

“Obviously,” you chuckled. “I’ll still like this fifty years from now.”

He hummed and walked over to you, lifting your legs to settle beside you, resting your legs over his. “You really think so?”

“I know so, Callum.”

You didn’t like change, but you could get used to this…instead of sticking to how it was before.

[arabaka]

ᰔ ̗̀➛ CHAPTER O1. INDULGENCE

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. content warnings ⤸

nsfw. reigen arataka x afab!reader. dubcon (you 'n reigen drink beforehand). power dynamics (he's your boss). oral sex (both ways). 6k word count.

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. author's note ⤸

excited to get into my first multi-chapter fic for my favorite of all time and i hope you all enjoy this as much as i had fun writing it. please be on the look out for further installments and i will be making a chapter index post once the second chapter one is out.

ᰔ ̗̀➛ MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“I feel bad, making you work on your birthday.” 

“You’re not making me.” You tease him with an eye roll. “You offered me the day off, remember? Buuuutttt I have nowhere else to be right now so might as well. My plans are in the evening anyways.” 

Well you’ve certainly piqued his interest. “Oh? What are you going to do?” 

“My friends want to take me out drinking. They do this thing where they order the same drink at every bar to rank them and there’s a bar they’ve been talking about for ages…” 

“Is that something you want to do?” There he goes again, being thoughtful in a way that shouldn’t strike you like one of Cupid’s arrows to the heart but it does. It stings a little that way too, because you’ve been ruminating over feelings you have for your boss, feelings you shouldn’t have in the first place, for a while now and there’s no hope for that going anywhere. But you manage a convincing enough smile and a lighthearted laugh to throw him off your scent.

“Oh yeah, of course! It’s better I leave it in their hands anyways. I’m only good at organizing when I’m on the clock.” You give him a wink and when he laughs, you let your gaze linger on the man. You aren’t about to miss that smile on his face, the kind that travels north, giving him a delightful crinkle by the eyes as his whole face just lights up. And over something you said.

The moment passes but you keep thinking, even as you retreat to your work on the company laptop. It’s easy for your mind to wander as you sift through the drivel that is Reigen’s email. Sorting requests by type and urgency, the task’s drudgery can’t distract you like you want it to. So the gears keep turning, subjecting you to thoughts of him, him, him until–

“Would you want to come?” 

The way Reigen whips his whole body around, face cast with a look of surprise with raised brows and his mouth slightly agape, makes you shrink in your seat. God, why did I ask? Of course he wouldn’t want to come, he hardly drinks as it is, he’s probably busy, he’s –

“Sure– I mean, yes!” His hands wave about, hoping to dispel any doubt in the air, “S-Sorry, I just– Didn’t expect you to ask.” 

A weight’s been lifted off your chest, that much he can see by the way you unclench your jaw and smile at him. Your smile. Makes his heart pitter patter, rumbling awake feelings of his own he’s been trying so hard to deny. Professionalism first, he struggles to tell himself but the heart is a funny thing; it does what it wants and as of late, it’s been wreaking havoc every time you come into the office.

“Oh, good!” You cheer and the way you clap your hands together is more adorable than you realize. Hand clasped over his mouth, digits conveniently covering the dust of pink on his cheekbones, Reigen clears his throat. “Where’s it by?” He asks, hands now occupying themselves with the purportless shuffling of papers with his back turned to you– another means of hiding his blush from you.

Not that you even noticed in the first place. You’re much too busy trying to mask your own excitement. “Not from here, actually… But it is by my place.” Now you’re using the laptop as a crutch, gluing your eyes to the screen when you suggest, “If you want, we can go together… And then walk to the bar?” Your lips pressed into a tight, thin line, you still your breathing for Reigen’s reaction. You’ve never been alone with him after work, where are you getting this bravery from?! If you can barely survive asking him, how are you going to handle him stepping into your home? Your brain starts to unravel, questions of when the last time you cleaned and tidied your place swirling about and there are no good answers to bring you peace.

Spine jerking upright, Reigen stammers, “Y-Yeah, that works!” He nearly avoids cracking his voice, one surprise after the other doing damage to his psyche you’re not even aware of.  

“Good– Great!” You, however, are not so lucky. Your pitch is obviously notes higher than the last time you spoke and god, do you wish you would stop embarrassing yourself. Now you’re welcoming the silence between the two, however awkward it may be, because it’s a reprieve from making a fool of yourself. 

Okay, time to get back to those emails. You can do this.

✩ ̗̀➛ Spirit photo - Is it dangerous? ✩ ̗̀➛ The spirit of my ex-boyfriend keeps showing up! Help me! ✩ ̗̀➛ I’ll believe you’re real if you answer my 3 questions…

You can’t help but snort at that last one. Into the Obvious Troll folder it goes.

One page down. Just a few more to go.

The next array of requests loads, but you don’t get any farther than the first one. 

✩ ̗̀➛ Perv Master - We got a fresh batch of pervy videos for you! Now you can be a perv master…

SNAP! 

You slam the laptop shut, only now you wish you hadn’t because you’re met with an equally shocked look from Reigen, his attention squarely on you and your very loud reaction to what you just saw.  “What happened?! Something wrong?” 

“N-Nothing! Nothing!” It’s not very convincing, but it’ll do. “Just– Needed some updates is all. Figured I’d let it rest. Don’t want it overheating!” The laugh you muster is weak, barely leaves your lips with an exhale but it’s all you can give. “I need a smoke break.”

You leave before Reigen can even think of a reply. 

Since when do you smoke?

You don’t. You just needed to get out of there and fast. What the hell was that? Maybe you were seeing things; you didn’t give yourself a chance to read it over but what else could it have been? You stumble back against the building’s hard surface, hand over your heart as if you couldn’t already feel it pulsate like mini earthquakes in your ears. 

Does Reigen really go on sites like that? You didn’t pen him down as the type. You gulp but your throat aches, the prospect of Reigen’s lascivious activities a jagged lump you can’t seem to swallow. Not that there would be a problem, he’s free to do what he wants but… You’re contending with that wild imagination of yours and you’re picturing Reigen, late at night when no one’s around but his urges, the hand you’ve had on your shoulder many times before reaching into his draws to relieve himself and—

Your heart rate quickens and you feel dizzy.

But what if it was a spam email, and you’re out here frazzled for nothing? You have to laugh. You might just be making a mountain out of a molehill, jumping to conclusions… As you’re wont to do.

“Sorry about that.” You come back as abruptly as you left but Reigen can’t help but notice your sheepish expression, along with the faint sheen on sweat cast alongside your features. 

And the fact that you don’t smell of smoke at all.

“You alright?” He asks from the end of the short corridor, gaze following you as you get yourself situated.  

Fingers drumming along the laptop’s edge, you hesitate opening it up under Reigen’s watchful eyes. Surely he wouldn’t be able to read the text from where he’s standing but you’re paranoid now, already wanting a reprieve from this awkward moment. The last thing you need is diving head first into another one. “Yeah, totally.” You rub your lips together and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, mannerisms Reigen knows better than to dismiss. 

You wear your heart on your sleeve, your anxiety even more so. Everyone has a tell and Reigen’s just so happened to memorize yours. But he won’t pry; if you want him to know, you’ll tell him. So he gives you your space, retreating to his own desk but not before offering up a warm smile– not knowing that right now, his charm could very well be the death of you. 

Laptop open, the email stares back at you. No mistaking it, the correspondence is definitely from a porn site. But should you open it? It’s none of your business, none of Spirits and Such business but… Your pointer finger trembles crazily over the touchpad. Guilt welling in your very soul, contending with burgeoning curiosity, you hesitate.

And then you click.

It could be spam. Maybe someone signed up using Reigen’s email as revenge. These are all options swiveling in your mind before the email loads but when it does, there’s no mistaking it. 

It’s 100% intentional.

Hello REIGEN ARATAKA,

There are new videos in some of your subscribed categories! Catch up on what you’ve been missing! 

SUBSCRIBED CATEGORIES: 

JOI STOCKINGS UPSKIRT FACESITTING PUBLIC

Oh, what were you thinking? Embarrassment flares over the apples of your cheeks, veins down the column of your neck flexing with tension as your eyes dawdle over the very, very explicit thumbnails accompanying each genre. You’re no prude but this… You’re viewing porn at work. And not just any porn– porn your boss, the man your heart and brain have been clouded with lately, is so interested in, he receives email updates. 

You’re frozen to your seat, the only thing of yours capable of making any sort of movement being your eyes– you drink in the sight before you, the little voice in your head be damned. This is an insight into what Reigen is into and can you really deny the intrigue infiltrating your bloodstream? You’re only human, after all.

So you look, chest tightening and thighs rubbing with every image. Some of the stills are innocuous, for porn that is. Take for example the stockings category– most of the previews are focused on the legs, each thumbnail featuring a different pair. Some are lacy, featuring ornate designs while others are simply opaque, the allure being in the glimpse of garter straps just beneath the skirt’s hemline. 

You gulp. Does he really like them that much? You can’t help but scour your closet in your mind’s eye– you must have a few pairs yourself, right? You swallow harder. What if you wore some to your party tonight?

Flustered but still inquisitive, your eyes flit through the other categories, taking in the sights and trying not to make a peep. You see it all: women with their hands on dildos of varying sizes, a worm’s eye view of a woman’s bottom, her skirt a mere curtain around her plump thighs, and a man’s face just before he’s to be obscured by the partner hovering above him. 

The mouse jitters on the screen, mimicking your real life twitches, as you panic over what to do now. Do you mark it unread? Delete it? After concocting a scenario where Reigen looks at his inbox, sees the email, and then approaches you with an apology, you decide it’s better to trash it… And then empty the trash, digitally wiping your hands clean of the situation entirely.

If only you could purge your mind the same way… Although… Would you want to?

You can’t deny that it was jarring at first– getting an eyeful of exactly what your boss gets up to when no one else is around. But you have to admit, that when the initial panic washed away, what you were left with was…

Temptation.

Intrigue.

Arousal.

It’s dirty, feeling the way you do but god, there’s something so liberating about it. All this time, you hadn’t an inkling of what Reigen, the object of your affection, was into but now it’s like an open book, all about him, has plopped onto your lap. It’d be a shame to waste such an opportunity acting like you’re so innocent.

Because let’s face it, you liked it. Liked knowing what gets Reigen to fish his cock out in a hurry after a long day of work, loved imagining those overworked hands being put to good use. You thought you would spend the next few hours on the clock riddled with worry but oh, your brain was far too deep in the gutter to even consider that at this point.

Maybe this was just the push you needed because now that you’ve seen, now that you know what Reigen is into, you can no longer be satisfied with your boss-employee relationship. How can you? You know what makes him tick, maybe the only one that does and you want to keep it that way.

And when you flip the sign from OPEN to CLOSED, you know there’s no turning back. 

You’re making a move on him. Tonight.

“... and to this day, she still brings it up! I was seven!” 

“Didn’t know you had such sticky fingers– do I have to keep an eye on you? Been wondering about some missing pens…”

You giggle, fishing for your keys as the two of you near your apartment door. “I took it back to the store! I have a conscience, you know. Steal dagashi once and you’re a pariah for life.” You hear Reigen mumble something or another but you laugh all the same, shoving your key in the lock and letting yourself breathe in the normalcy of the moment surrounding you. It feels nice.

And your apartment is clean. Perfect.

“You have a …. Really nice place.” Reigen comments, hands humbly in his pockets as he realizes… He’s never really imagined what kind of house you would keep: whether you set out coasters and if they’re personalized, what you kept in your fridge, what you put on display, etc. But everything he is seeing– it’s so you and that makes Reigen smile.

“You think so?” You can’t deny the surge of pride that spreads like a blanket of warmth over the pitter patter of your head. “Thanks! I couldn’t wait to get my own place so I could spruce it up the way I like. Couldn’t really do that when I lived at home.” 

“Strict parents?” Reigen broaches the topic with a little trepidation, though within his words there’s a subtext of compassion.

You don’t mind the gentle nudge in your personal life, reassuring he’s alright with a returned tone of care, “It’s more like… Realizing as an adult, it means you can do whatever the hell you want.” You smile tenderly at Reigen, “I should… I should get ready. I won’t take long. Remotes are over there, if you’re thirsty I have waters in the fridge. Make yourself at home, really.”

Reigen chuckles under his breath, waving you off, “Thanks but take your time.”

You skitter off to your room, a rush of excitement surging your system as you shut the door behind you. You don’t think you’ve ever moved faster to change, having already long pieced the perfect outfit in your head since your big resolution. You roll up your favorite pair of thigh highs over your plump thighs, smiling to yourself as you admire the way your own legs look covered by the sheer, black fabric. These are the winners, alright.

You stumble and shimmy into the rest of your ensemble, whole body jittering at every beat. Your stomach winds, butterflies struggling to flutter but you allow yourself a breath, really let the air fill and expand your lungs, before your hand is on the doorknob and the rest of you is on your way to the man you’re going to do your best to woo tonight.

And when you come out, there’s no mistaking it; he’s doing more than just the courtesy glance you do when a friend gussies up. He’s drinking in your appearance, trying to fight the obvious drift towards your legs, the absolute territory of your thighs showing just a peek under your skirt. He has to clear his throat, as though that in itself wasn’t a tell, before finally piping up, “You look good– great.” He corrects his wording, but it’s still not enough. But going beyond that…

That would be an issue, wouldn’t it?

He’s… He’s your boss. He’s here in your house, sitting like a friend, ready to go out with you like one but… 

He’s certainly not looking at you like either one.

But that’s okay. That’s what you want. And soon he’ll know that too. Because tonight, you want to cross boundaries. You want to erase them altogether. You don’t want to think about the potential mess you’ll leave when the limits are blurred and streaked.

So you let him ogle, relish the way it feels to have his attention so obviously tuned into the erotic stretch of your socks, the fabric turned gossamer under the delicious expanse of your thighs. You can already see the effects of your outfit clear as day on Reigen’s face; he’s never been great at concealing his surprise, or in this case… His flustering. 

A bead of sweat attempts a path down his temple but he swipes it away, framing it as fixing his hair but you see through him. Try as he might, those dark brown irises always find a way back to your absolute territory. Because after all, your stockings are stretched so thin, they’ll rip if you’re not careful. 

Good thing tonight isn’t about being careful.

“Can I get you anything?” 

Reigen shakes his head a little faster than normal, struggling to maintain eye contact. You think it’s cute. “Uh, actually,” He ends up croaking, resisting the twitch in his fingers to adjust his tie, “Just a glass of water. Thank you.” 

The stark crack in his voice is unlike anything you’ve ever heard, at least from him. The foray into the unknown is already beginning with a series of firsts, the next being a stir in your belly upon seeing your boss so on edge and all because of you. A power trip.

The confidence may have left him, but not you. Because when you turn to leave, the pleats of your skirt swaying and descending around you in a sinful halo, you can feel his eyes boring into you, Reigen falling headfirst into the brief moment of reprieve to quell his curiosity.

You could get used to this.

He, on the other hand, is spiraling. Sure, he’s stolen long looks at you when you’re greeting clients or working on the computer but all that was harmless. This? This is dangerous.

His composure coming undone and his head steaming like a pot with water boiling over, being left alone with his thoughts is a much worse decision than Reigen anticipated. He sits in the unbearable thick silence, back hunched over with his hands together and fingers splayed, unable and not wanting to erase that image of you in his mind.

He swears he’s not a bad guy. He liked you before this, he tells himself. It’s not out of left field for him to ogle you in your natural element. Absorb what he can. Besides, there’s more to you than just the sashay of your hips, the peek of supple flesh just underneath your chic skirt… But god if that isn’t the only thing clogging his thoughts.

A new batch of perspiration starting to build up in his pores, Reigen fights it with regular inhales-exhales, telling himself he’s fine and can manage. But even he knows that’s not the case.

You have to know– there’s just no mistaking the gloss of sweat that streaks down from both temples, even after he tries to get rid of the evidence with a tissue he’s nabbed from your coffee table. And there’s no cloaking the frazzled expression flush over his face, cheeks a subtle pink when you return, glass of water in hand. 

You so badly want to ask if everything is okay, make him answer you with a warbled voice and put on a show like he does for clients that catch him off guard, but even you have a limit.

You sit next to him, leaving a cushion space between the two of you. Your smile is angelic, so much so that Reigen feels bad. He feels terrible because he wants to bring you down to his level, make you fall just like you did him. 

Because there’s just no way you feel the same. 

Your living room is humble but still bigger than his studio apartment; there’s pictures in varying frames and sizes aligned on your wall, featuring people he doesn’t know. Featuring a side of you he doesn’t know. A sick feeling in his gut sinks like an anchor, chains of jealousy falling in clumps all around him but then you look at him with your eyes absolutely sparkling with intrigued enthusiasm, and he feels the weight leave just as quick as it came.

You smile but really, you don’t know what to say now that your run of temptation has slowed down. Do you talk about work? Do you play 21 Questions? Do you talk about yourself? 

Much to your relief, it’s Reigen that cuts through the silence after a much needed half-glass of water. “So, any of your friends,” An open palm gestures towards the wall of memories, “going to be there tonight?”

And surprisingly enough, it’s this simple question that gets the ball rolling because then it’s talking about some of the events portrayed in the pictures, sharing of stories, and most importantly, shared laughter. 

You don’t know why - and neither does he - why it took you two so long to do something like this. 

So much so, you’re a twinge disappointed when your phone rouses awake on the coffee table; it’s your friend.

“Oh, that’s them. Hold on.” You get back on your feet, ambling to your kitchenette and giving your friend the usual greeting before asking, “So where are you guys? Are you there yet?” 

Reigen watches you walk away, surprisingly able to resist the urge to visually devour your legs once again because now he’s thinking about something else: that this is already inherently different from the many group outings the Spirits and Such family has had since you came on board, but not just because it’s you and him and you and him alone.

It’s because with just the two of you, the chemistry you have is undeniable. It’s not clouded by conversations from two or three different people. It’s not interrupted by bursts of laughter, of which either one of you is swept up by the buzzing fun. It’s real, it’s organic, and it’s… It’s going to be difficult to ignore moving forward.

Even more so now because when you return, with one of your hands idly playing with the bottom hem of your skirt, you give him a game-changing update.

“Soo, they all have food poisoning… Real glad I turned down their lunch invite.” You say, relief whistling from pursed lips with only a small shrug slumping your shoulders. 

You don’t look… All that upset, Reigen notices. Shouldn’t you? It’s your birthday after all… “I’m sorry to hear that… We can still go, if you’d like?” It’s not a pity offer. It’s very real. He hopes you know that.

You do. But… “I have something a little different in mind… If you’re up for it.”

Because you’re not going to let anything hold you back– not friends, not food poisoning, not even an act of god. No, you’re going to make your own plans.

It is your birthday after all. 

“... And you’re sure you want to spend it with your boss?” He asks you with a chuckle when the two of you raise the first glass of the night.

“No.” A clink and a giggle and you say the words that seal your fate for the night, “I want to spend it with you.”

Oh. Well, who is he to deny the birthday girl?

And that’s how one drink turns to two. Then three. Then… You’ve lost count. 

But Reigen hasn’t. He’s only one drink in and that’s by choice; the lightweight is already slush with alcohol all the same. 

Besides… He wants to remember you like this. 

How you laugh a little louder, smile a little wider…

How you touch him… Touch him a lot more than you ever would sober. 

Stripped of your inhibitions and loosely guarded, your hands travel where they want and he lets them. A pang of guilt rattles his ribcage because he should be stronger than this. But he tried, he promises– he’s a good guy, but even that thought is strained when you scoot so close you’re leg-to-leg with the man and you can only produce a look of disappointment when he tries to add in some distance.

Because… You feel the same. He sees it now, so clearly even through the blur of a lemon sour. 

So this is… This is fine, right?

Letting your hand make a lazy clasp around his thigh. Letting your alcohol-spotted lips coo in drunk marvel at the defined muscle you’ve just squeezed. Letting your fingers walk up his suit until they’re hooked around his tie. Letting you help him out of his suit when you slur about him being overdressed.

All of that is fine, right?

So then it’s okay for him to do the same, for his much larger hands to mimic the actions of yours. For his fingers to play with the elastic band of your stockings, dipping underneath to feel for himself the supple flesh he’s been eyeing all night. 

Reigen has to stifle a groan, harbor it in his throat, when you clench your sweet thighs together, smushing his hand into an open palm over your leg. The way you feel, how much of your softness comes to meet his touch is making the room feel so, so much smaller. 

He doesn’t have to wonder if it’s you or the alcohol that’s making him so dizzy. He knows. 

You watch as his fingers curl in, daring to give you a squeeze. The room is quiet. You swallow thickly. Head heavy with what feels like cotton balls, your eyes are slow to wander up Reigen’s body but when they finally get to his face, you find that his gaze had been waiting for you the entire time. 

The next few seconds are a motion blur. 

The urge to kiss him at its peak, you move in… And so does he. It’s a kiss that quickly comes to house a chorus of groans from the both of you, both your lips quickly wetting with spit and clumsily sealing the lewd tremors from your throats. 

Noses brush together. Teeth clatter when they bump. But your veins crave more. Through the fog of the alcohol, you try to will your legs to move but for better or worse, your muscles seize up. 

That’s okay. Reigen tells you, not with words but with hands on your waist that can’t help but dig in as he guides you on your back. Let me.

He huddles over you, breath dense with want. You watch his chest cave in and release, that’s how heavy he’s panting over you and all just before he dives in for another kiss that feels as important to him as breathing. The kiss is somewhat discoordinated again – your mouths nearly miss and there’s spin staining your cheeks – but who can blame either one of you? 

After all, for how long has this been in the making? 

How long has it been since you started daydreaming of this very moment? And how could it be so much better than your imagination already, spirits and all? Reigen kisses you at a feverish pace, knees closing in on your hips and his hands at either side of your face, holding firmly as though you’ll slip through his fingers otherwise. 

He gives you a hungry groan to swallow and you return the noise in kind with a whine that rumbles all the way from your chest, your hips pushing up and out to try and grab some friction. Something. Anything.

You taste like candied alcohol; sickly sweet, Reigen thinks but pushes his tongue in your mouth anyways. The way you just give in his hold, the noises he manages to lick out of you, it’s making his slacks hurt fucking terribly. 

You giggle loosely against the corner of his mouth, droopily kissing a path of kisses to his jawline. “You’re really enjoying this.” You observe cheekily, openly teasing your boss as though you aren’t just as culpable, just as dirty. As if your panties weren’t already giving way to your slick.

“I – I can stop.” Reigen mumbles, though he isn’t convincing anyone with the way he’s already leaning up against your lips, relenting in the way your mouth so greedily latches onto him. Your mouth… It just feels so good…

He’s said the last part out loud, he realizes it now from the way your lips purse and suck around his tender flesh. You’re going to leave him a mark. He should stop you.

But he doesn’t stop you, because he doesn’t want to. 

His hips start their attempts to meet yours, Reigen humping into the air like an animal. He knows it’s pitiful, can feel the shame trickle down his temples in slithering beads of sweat, but he just can’t seem to get himself under control. 

“Please,” He rasps, “Please tell me you want this.” He’ll allow your kisses, your hands to memorize his body if you just –

“Yes, Reigen.” You say so hushed, “Of course I do.” The words tumble together in a slur. But your intention is clear when you suddenly yank his hand and direct him to your dripping cunt from underneath your wrinkled skirt. 

His breath rasps in his throat, his fingers curling into your seductive heat. He wasn’t expecting you to hold him there, jump right into goading his fingers to take a peek under the innocent hemline of your panties. Hell, he hasn’t even gotten to fondle your tits yet.

“You’re crazy.” Reigen is kissing to the side of your face, lips dragging as he shifts focus to getting his fingers under that pesky mesh band that rubs up against his fingertips from in between your legs. His cock throbs, aches from the unsatisfactory friction against his briefs. 

You sweep your lower half up in a waving motion, loosely running your puffed clit along Reigen’s hand with a beautifully blissful sigh waiting for him at every peak. Eyelashes fluttering, your vision is a little blurry but you can just make out the staunch outline of his member straining through cotton fabric. Back lifting off the couch, you reach over and cup a squeeze, lips popping apart for a gasp as you get a taste of just how hard he is. 

You grope and feel, pull and squeeze, all to satiate your perverted curiosity. Reigen’s cock… His shaft is slender but his girth is taut and as you run through his length, every time making him whimper and buck in your hand, you also discover just how much precum he’s already leaking out. “You feel so good,” Your voice is drawn out with a lewd whine, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Reigen groans, mostly in pleasure but partly because he can’t believe it. “Oh?” His mouth at your ear, he clamps down on the shell for a nibble. “That makes two of us then.” He pants with an open mouth when you start massaging his twitching erection, “G-God.” He pulls away to spoil himself with another look at your plump legs cuffed by the sheer socks. “How’d you know I love thigh highs?” He grunts, one hand sliding down your body.

At this, you laugh. It’s airy and it’s short but gives Reigen pause. He pulls away, though still lets you rub firm strokes down his dick with just your thumb. He looks confused and in the haze of your drunkenness, you realize that you just gave yourself up.

How– How do you explain that to him? You remember being so damn sure earlier, with your goal to finally start something with your boss taking root earlier that day, but that was when you thought you could keep your advantage under wraps! You hiccup, “U-Uh, well…” 

He’s looking at you expectantly. What are you going to say?

“I saw your porn earlier.” 

The truth. You decide to go with the truth.

“My what ?!” 

You realize now how that sounds, so you scramble to explain, “E-Email! You got an email. I, um… I opened it.” Shame’s got a chokehold on you right now. “I-I’m sorry! I was just curious! I wanted to know what you liked so I could– so I could get your attention! I w-wanted… I wanted you to see me that way.”

You watch Reigen’s throat tense on a hard swallow. He’s thinking.

Well, you did already confess your feelings, feelings he returns and then some… 

With a small tremble, Reigen lurches forward until his lips are at your ear. You can’t hear him take a breath but you can feel it: it’s hot and sharp on your skin, making your pores bead up with sweat. “D-Did you want to do… Anything that you saw?” His voice is husky and several shades desperate. Rubbing against you is his hard on, throbbing and unashamed. “I-I– I already saw– see you that way.” He says in a deeply strained croak after a hearty pause.

That’s what gets you where you are now, still on the couch with your knees wedged up to your ears and Reigen crouched face deep into your plump cunt. Hungry swipes of his tongue over your panty-clad folds send shivers up to your mind. You grit your teeth in pain and pleasure– it’s close but not enough… 

Reigen seems to be enjoying himself though, tongue nice and flat dragging slobber up your nether lips, every exhale accompanied by a tempered groan over your pussy. “Tastes so good…” He whimpers and sniffs, sucking on your lips with juicy puckers through the fabric. You watch his beautiful brown eyes start to flutter back, watch just how much of a lush your boss is for your warm cunt.

Still in awe, Reigen just barely gets to prying your underwear from your sticky inner thighs with the hook of one finger. “Mmmm,” He’s humming into your bare skin now and it makes you raise your hips off the couch right into his mouth, “Such a sweet pussy…”

Your hand finds refuge in his hair, pushing his choppy fringe back and holding on, something Reigen seems to enjoy if the muffled sound of his moaning is any indication. His gaze flickers upwards, the man currently lolling his velvety warm muscle through your labia minora, ending every cycle with a flick to your swollen clit in a strike that has you seeing white. He gives nasty, wet and loud kisses to your bud, drawing your tender collection of nerves between his lips until your aroma is thick in his mouth.

“Could eat you out all day.” Reigen huffs, coming up for air and looking so disheveled, your pussy throbs. His hair is all out of sorts, sticking up where it shouldn’t with sweat. His chin is dripping with your fluids and his. He looks so fucking good.

Your foot wobbles as it winds up Reigen’s outer thigh and your voice is a wispy shadow of your usual volume but you still manage to tease, “Then why’d you stop?” 

And with a sheepish chuckle and his cheekbones aglow, he admits, “I was… Really close to cumming.” You giggle but the way your tongue wipes over your bottom lip tells him you like that.

“You wanna ?” Syllables blurring together, you turn the tables as you rise to your knees, cushions dipping under the weight shift as you lean closer and closer until it’s Reigen’s back along your couch and you between his legs. 

… He doesn’t last long. How could he? 

Your mouth was pure heaven on his cock, sucking up the pre-cum that was still driveling down his pinkened shaft. You had just gotten to the base, mouth leaking with saliva when all of a sudden, his hands were on the back of your head and his hips were pathetically rocking spurts of hot cum down your throat.

“Shit– I’m sorry I didn’t–”

His cock springs out of your mouth (his decision), spouting spit and cum with it. His hands flit about in the air; he’s trying to come up with something, anything that could redeem him but then he sees you, finger running across your lips and scooping up every last dribble of his load for swallowing, and his blood runs south. 

And all you have to say for yourself is: “Can you go again?”

[dilutedconfusion]

Lost Star

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 1) Real World AU

OH and this is going to be angsty. Angsty with a sprinkle of stupid dialogue if you will.

Summary: You and Kid are long time best friends but you just so happen to find yourself in a risky situation, curtesy of your bladder and too much alcohol. Most of this story takes place over a phone call between you and Kid. One where one of you is crying, until both of you are crying. Enjoy <3

Warnings: None I think??

Word Count: 3.5k

Part 1 Part 2

On a late Wednesday night, Kid didn’t expect to be getting so many calls. By the blaring white lines cast in a blurry glow, he managed to make out the number 12:22 am on his alarm clock. The insistent buzzing of his phone against his nightstand nearly making him want to tear it apart with his teeth.

What does a guy have to do to get a little fucking sleep around here?

He could nearly feel the weight of his eye bags tugging on his pale skin. The warm embrace of his bed feeling more and more like a tomb he’d be comfortable dying in.

But of course, once the ringing had stopped once, which earned Kid a hearty yawn and the closing of his eyes, it started up again. That same persistent buzzing was rumbling against the wood. It felt so invasive Kid nearly thought a swarm of bees had crawled into his ears. Nesting for the night or maybe having some kind of buzz off where one had to be louder than all the rest. But if this was a buzz off he knew his phone would win by a landslide.

Using his forearms he bent them to prop up his bare chest off the soft bed. Not willing to fully sit up he just slapped his hand against the nightstand in a lazy attempt to pick up his phone. But instead of picking it up he knocked it right off the table, the small rectangle of light falling to its doom and crashing against the wooden floor.

“Goddamn it,” Kid mumbled under his breath, brushing his tossed hair out of his eyes and sliding closer to the edge of the bed. The phone was still ringing. Now buzzing loudly against the floor and most certainly pissing off his neighbors below. He managed to lean off the bed just a bit, his long arms coming in handy to scoop it off the floor.

Rolling onto his back with a content sigh he stared at that small rectangle of light that had thankfully stopped buzzing. He read the caller's name in his notifications with little tears of exhaustion naturally pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Y/N?” He mumbled out to himself, his frown of annoyance now turning into one of mild confusion. You were known to blast his phone with multiple calls at a time. You had done it when you swear you saw a dog that looked just like Kid and to Kid's utter dismay, it did indeed not look like him cause that dog was fucking ugly. You had done it when your car broke down nearly a thousand times. Using your ‘my friend is a mechanic’ card to get his free help. You had done it on nearly every holiday that you weren’t together and though he feigned annoyance on those calls, he secretly liked it.

So basically without a doubt, you would weasel your way into finding any excuse to call him. Kid didn’t think that this night would be any different though he made it very clear he wouldn’t answer late-night calls. He wasn’t about to give up his precious sleep to hear your languorous ass talk about the meaning of life or what kind of cheesecake you would be if you were a cheesecake.

But still, he opened up his phone to check if you had texted him, which of course you didn’t. Scrolling through his notifications he noticed 15 unanswered phone calls from you in the last 20 minutes.

Eyes widening in a mix of shock but mostly annoyance he spoke, “What the hell is this woman thinking??” He looked over each call, they seemed back to back from what he could tell which only ticked him off further. But before he could even think it through you called him yet again, his phone vibrating loudly on the soft metal of his prosthetic.

He didn’t want to talk to you. Hell, he was about to put his phone on sleep mode and roll over without a thought. But it was the fact that you’ve never called him this fervently before that made him hesitate. You usually just quit around 4 unanswered phone calls. But this time was different which meant either you were drunk or something bad was happening.

So with a half-asleep limb, he clicked the answer on his phone. Putting it up to his ear as he let his back sink deeper into the mattress below him. “What do you want?” Was the first thing he said without hesitation. His voice much lower and more gravelly than usual due to the late hours.

Though of course, he didn’t hear your voice respond on the other end. Instead, he just heard what he could only assume was a light wind breezing against the microphone and the sounds of footsteps thudding softly in the background.

Did she buttdial me? Was the first thought that rang through his mind but it couldn’t be. You called him consistently for the last 20 minutes. You just hadn’t noticed he answered.

So he spoke again, using a bit more effort so you would hear him. “Do you not hear me? Put the phone to your ear dumbass.”

Kid immediately heard a light yelp come from the other end, followed by a pausing of footsteps before your haphazard ass finally spoke through the phone. “Kid?”

“Who the fuck else would it be? You’re the one who called me bolts for brains.” Kid grumbled, rubbing his hand along his face to try and wake himself up just a bit more.

“Ah…um yeah yeah I umm called you.” Kid noticed right away your voice sounded a bit more slurred than usual. Like you had a gobstopper in your mouth preventing you from saying something coherent. He squinted his eyes as he stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together what the hell was going on.

“Are you drunk and calling me late at night? What the hell Y/N?” He didn’t feel like he needed to be mean. But if you were seriously about to say you spam-called him for the last 20 minutes because you were bored and drunk he was going to throw his phone across the room.

It took you a second to reply and he could hear the way your breath hitched at that question. “Ah umm maybe. I don’t know Kid, it's just that something spooky is happening and I’m scared and I’m cold and I missed you.” Again you sounded like your brain was hollow at the moment. Though your words made Kid slightly concerned hearing the whole ‘I’m scared and cold’ bit.

“I swear are you fucking with me right now? What do you mean you’re scared and cold?” Kid was about to roll his eyes hard if you complained about something stupid. You being drunk wasn’t something he saw often especially considering how shitfaced you sounded. But his sass was palpable at this point despite all the flashing red signs that should be telling him something was wrong.

“I don’t know. Ask the forest. Who knows why these things are always so cold and spooky? It’s just like…natural law or whatever.” And with that, Kid paused.

The forest? What the hell does this girl mean by ‘the forest’?

“Is the forest a euphemism for something? What are you, sitting on your bathroom floor complaining about how cold it is?” He was trying to piece together a scene in his mind. One where you were bored and drunk for whatever reason so you called him in your bathroom. Hopefully, you weren’t drunk because you were depressed over something stupid again. But by the soft sound of your voice, you sounded more scared than sad.

“I wish the forest was a bathroom. I just peed by a tree and a little bit of it got on my pants. That…doesn’t make me a piss baby does it?”

Kid's face contorted into a mixture of disgust and complete confusion. It woke him up a bit more to his annoyance but it couldn’t be helped. What you had said was just too much for him to even remotely understand. But what worried him more was the fact that you weren’t giving up this whole ‘I’m in a forest’ joke.

“Y/N…where are you right now?” Kid's voice dipped into something more serious. His lower register rumbled in his chest as he nearly growled out that answer.

“The forest. Have you not been listening to me? I peed on my pants and I’m cold and I’m scared so I called you.” You sounded like you thought he was stupid. Like it couldn’t be more apparent where you were and Kid was just letting the facts fly right by him.

But as he pieced together not only what you said but the sounds coming through his phone it slowly started to make sense. The howling wind hitting the mic. Your footsteps sound a bit crunchy as if you were walking on grass. He could even make faint creaking sounds and even a few birds in the air around you. Chirping in the late hours of the night as the rest of the predators came alive.

“Y/N…please don’t tell me you’re actually in a forest right now.” Kid didn’t want to believe it. Because if this was a prank then it was a mean one. He couldn’t believe he missed all those background sounds earlier. Him and his tired brain lacked all the sense of keenness it usually held.

“Yes, I’m in a forest dummy.” That made his stomach sink fast like a pound of lead that somehow slid down his esophagus and gut-punched him from the inside. He sat up in his bed immediately, his spine cracking loudly and his vision blurring around the edges.

“Why are you in a forest? Actually, why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner?! You’ve been talking out of your ass this whole time!” He yelled at you, his voice raising drastically in concern. “It’s midnight you dumb fuck. Why in the world are you out there?”

“Gosh Kid don’t yell at me! I just needed to tinkle and this was the only place.” Your voice went an octave higher and became increasingly whiny as you spoke. Kid nearly wanted to crawl through the phone and wring your neck.

“The only place you could pee was a forest? Have you never heard of a bathroom fuck-nut?! Why the hell are you in a forest in the first place?” Kids anger was making him get ahead of himself. Each word that left your slurred and intoxicated lips was not what he wanted to hear.

This is why I hate it when she gets drunk. She gets stupid and makes me clean up her mess.

“Fuck-nut? What kind of insult is that? I’m not a fuck-nut.” Your voice became more strained as you spoke. It sounded like you were on the verge of tears. Though the reception for some reason was getting more and more hazy as the call went on so Kid paid no mind.

“Y/N!” Kid was nearly gripping his sheets out of pure anger from this conversation. He shouldn’t be yelling this late at night, he knew that. But his stupid best friend was becoming more stupid by the second.

You took a second to respond. Leaving Kid to just listen to your soft sniffles on the other side. It made his muscles freeze in realization.

I’m screaming at a drunken and vulnerable Y/N right now. What the fuck Kid?

“Don’t yell at me. I-I’m already scared as it is. I just wanted to call you 'cause I didn’t know anybody else that could h-help me.” Your voice sounded so frail. Kid could nearly see your tear-stained face painted on the blank wall across from his bed. It made his heart lurch in the cage of his chest.

“I…I won’t do it again. Just tell me what’s going on. No more deflecting or talking about something else. I need to know why you are in the woods this late at night.” Kid used the most reassuring voice he could muster up. He’s dealt with your crying self a couple of times. Like when that guy who in Kid's opinion was a complete waste of space rejected you. Or when one of your relatives died a few years back. He had been there to awkwardly try and pick up the fragile pieces of your heart. So he could only hope he could use that learned sympathy now.

“I was…at this party. It this whole bonfire next to the lake thing. There was like…a lot of booze and it tasted really good. Like really really good Kid, it had lemonade and sliced fruit in it. Oh, and they had these speakers strapped into some guys' truck bed. I was twerkin' up a storm ya shoulda seen it.” Your voice still sounded sad and strained as you spoke. As if you were emotional about how ‘awesome’ this party was to the point of tears.

Kid's hand instantly smacked against his forehead. Rubbing his face and stretching the deep lines of his eyes bags and permanently frowning corners of his lips. Forcing himself to just groan and hold back all the fiery frustration lumped in the back of his throat.

God, how much did she drink? She’s usually never this emotional. Or this stupid.

“Y/N quit talking about the booze and the party. I get it. It was good. Tell me why you called me. Like exactly how you ended up in this forest alone. And try to calm down a little. I can’t handle the crying.” Kid couldn’t help but sternly push you off the topic of the party because if he heard you talk about twerking one more time something in his brain would short-circuit.

You sniffled softly into the mic once more as if you were swallowing down a well of tears. “O-Okay…I can calm down. The party ended a little while ago. People started packing up and driving home for the night. I called an Uber because ya know…alcohol. There’s a main road close by so I just needed to walk down this trail to catch my ride. But I needed to piss like SOOOO BAD. I was seconds away from shooting a piss rocket down my legs from how bad it was. So I went off the trail a good bit. Ya know, so nobody would see my lady bits. But I think I got like…turned around on the way back to the trail.”

The whole time you were talking Kid could nearly feel his blood pressure rising. A cold chill ran across his spine as his body twitched and went rigid. It was like he was hearing the most idiotic yet horrific joke in the world. But the problem right now was that it wasn’t a joke and it was happening to you of all people.

Oh no.

“Y/N…how long have you been walking around aimlessly?” Kid almost didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know because if you said what he was thinking, then there was a high probability you were dead lost.

“Ummm…I think about 30 minutes? I don’t know exactly when I left to go piss but it's around that amount of time. Plus I fell over a stupid log and got a boo-boo on my leg.” Your voice sounded so ignorant as you said that. As if you didn’t realize how bad your situation was. Kid couldn’t even respond right away. He was too lost in the questions of how the hell you were going to get out of this mess.

“Kid…you there? I…uhh have a backpack. I brought water and a flashlight. Plus I’m wearing that jacket. Ya know the one you bought me for my birthday with the little skull on the sleeve? It’s my favorite.” Kid felt his heart sink once more.

She’s wearing that jacket? While lost in the woods?

“I didn’t buy you that jacket just so you could get lost in the woods with it you asshole.” Kids voice became void of all frustration. Just grumbling and low as he contemplated his life for a moment. “Did you try yelling so someone could come find you? Maybe shine your flashlight through the trees?”

“Yeah, but I think everyone already left.”

Well, shit.

And with that Kid started to get up from his bed. Letting his wide feet land on the cold wooden floor below him he turned on his bedside lamp and started making his way towards his closet. Letting the closet door softly swing open before he quickly put the call on speaker mode.

“Kid…what are you doing?” Your quiet voice floated up to him. He set the phone down on a shelf in his closet before yanking out a gray hoodie and some black sweatpants to cover up his mostly naked body.

“Coming to get you. Now find a place to sit and stay there. No more walking. You’re getting yourself more lost the more you walk around.” He grumbled out, shoving his leg through one of the pant holes. He could feel the ghostly chill of goosebumps crawling all over his skin. As if bugs or the cold hands of ghosts were tracing the lines of his scars. And even though he was hating every second of this, he supposed you were hating it a lot more.

Though with the amount of jokes she’s making maybe not so much. But she always makes jokes at the worst of times.

“But shouldn’t we call the authorities? Or maybe even Killer? I just called you cause…I missed you but you don’t have to do this alone Kid.”

There was a softness in your voice that dragged his attention away by its heels. He paused in his closet. Frozen still for just a moment like a statue of disarray. “No. Just me. No cops. I don’t need them seeing my face and I don’t need their half-assed help. Plus Killer works early shifts, I ain’t dragging him to help me on this one. So quit questioning my abilities and let me help you.”

His voice was so stern you could’ve sworn the foundation he built those words upon was made out of solid gold. There was no changing his mind on this one. No matter how much you tried to erode his logic with your tears of worry. So you just feigned a smile that no one could see and spoke, “Okay. I trust you, Kid. Always have, always will.”

Kid could feel those words echoing in the caverns of his mind. As if they were being written on his flesh itself. But he paid no mind or at least that’s what he wanted to believe. He had more important things to do such as saving your helpless ass.

You looked around at the forest engulfing you. It was thick in all directions. No tower, mountain, or really anything to give you a point of reference to where you are. The little flashlight you brought was doing an unsurprisingly half-assed job. The dark was almost too dark. The moon barely peeking through the tops of the trees leaving you amiss in a world of darkness seemingly built for your own demise. The wind was howling and you could catch the far-out hoo of an owl doing little to subside your fear. Though everything was green and lush so it looked soft enough sit down on.

“Okay…I’ll sit down. I’m ummm…by Lake Folsum. Ya know the one off the highway going towards the South? There’s a little dirt road you can take but it cuts off to that trail I was talking about. I gotta be somewhere around there.” You mumble, taking small steps forward and looking at a rather tall oak tree in front of you. You leaned over and felt the dirt, trying to make sure it wasn’t too wet before settling down on it and leaning your back against the tree.

”Alright. It’ll probably take me 40 minutes to get there. 30 if I break a couple of laws. Just wait for me okay?” You could hear Kid shuffling around on the other end. His breath hitting the mic and floating into your ears. You heard the faint jangling of what you assumed was him picking up his keys. Followed by the door of his apartment opening and closing with a subtle lock.

“You’re not gonna hang up on me right? Don’t leave me alone out here Kid. I need you.”

Kid let out a little grunt at that. Your voice sounded so delicate it made his throat tighten. Both of you have been friends forever but if anything insults were more regular then whatever the hell you were doing right now. It made him feel weird. All this ‘I need you, I missed you’ bullshit sounding so strange coming out of your mouth. But he wanted to believe it was the just the alcohol talking. That you were scared and had called the first person you could think of which was him. He wasn’t special by any means and he didn’t expect you to ever rely on him like this. But here he was, about to come to your rescue and he was going to do it all by himself. To try and be the strong reliable friend he wishes he was. He just couldn’t let another person down.

So he picked up his pace just a bit. Forcing himself to go down the stairs two steps at a time to make it to the parking garage. His mind a brewing storm of worry and fear though he would never say it out loud.

It's up to me to help her. I can’t break. Not right now.

“I would never leave you. Don’t ever assume that.”

A/N: I already said this shit was going to be angsty…which can lead you to assume a lot of things. So uhhh yeah be prepared for that cause I already have a mild outline of what this story is going to be and just thinking about it makes me sad. But I’m VERY excited for said sad so it’s okay. When the time comes we can cry together in the comments <3

[slaymitchabernathy]

Playpen

| this story was inspired by the unreleased song ‘Playpen’ by Billie Eilish |

| “this is my playpen, borderline thinking like barbie baby, can you play ken?” |

Coriolanus does not want to be here.

He all but drags his feet on the pavement as they walk to the front door. “Stop sulking Coriolanus,” his mother snaps, shooting him a stern look from over her shoulder. It’s hard to take her so seriously when she’s shorter than him but he’s seen her and his father get into enough little arguments to know that height is nothing compared to a woman’s scorn.

Even as she holds his father’s arm she exudes power and regalness.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and chews on his inner cheek, “I just don’t see why I had to come. I don’t even remember her.”

His father grunts as they walk up the few steps that lead to the front door, “Well, you remember her father and that’s more than enough.” His mother nods and turns to look at him, offering him a small smile, “It’s been years since we’ve seen either of them, darling, it’ll be good to reconnect before school starts.”

Coriolanus manages a nod but he’s not too convinced. Not when he could be at his friend Festus Creed’s house doing anything but going to this boring dinner with his parents. Still, he came along.

His father presses the doorbell and stands up straighter, “Besides, don’t you want Soarynn to see what a strapping young man you’ve become?”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes because he highly doubts that Soarynn Nightingale gives a fuck about how he looks. He hasn’t seen her for twelve years and hasn’t thought about her much until right now as he stands on the front steps of her townhouse.

He remembers how well their parents got along, both their mothers would have tea while their fathers would talk for hours about business and politics. Boring stuff really. He and Soarynn would often go up to her room and play with her dolls which at the time, he thought was ridiculous. Playing with dolls was so…girly.

When the door opens, they’re greeted by the familiar sight of Glen Nightingale who doesn’t seem to look any different from what Coriolanus remembers besides the obvious fact that he’s now wearing glasses.

“What a wonderful sight to be greeted by,” he says with a smile before extending his hand out for a handshake. Coriolanus watches his father and Glen both grin as they shake hands, watches how Glen then presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek and then…it’s his turn.

“Coriolanus, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you,” Glen tells him, “you used to be this tall,” he holds his hand up to his thigh. Coriolanus manages a polite smile, “Yes, a lot certainly has changed since we last saw each other.”

Glen chuckles, “They certainly have. Come in please.”

꧁ ꧂

The Nightingale townhouse is exactly how Coriolanus remembers it, with the grandfather clock and the chandelier. He looks around for any signs of Soarynn but she’s nowhere to be found. “Soarynn! The Snows are here!” Glen calls before turning back to his guests, “It’s been an…adjustment for her coming back to the Capitol after so long.” Mother sighs and nods as if she’s the one who spent all that time in District Two, “Yes, I can imagine it might take some getting used to.”

Twelve years ago, Glen Nightingale left the Capitol to go live in District Two on the conditions that it would only be for a year. The man has several investments in Two’s weapons industry and they needed him there in person. So, after much debate, he and his daughter packed up and left.

Coriolanus remembers how sad he was when they left. Watching them climb onto that train and seeing Soarynn wave through the window as the train pulled out of the station. His young mind couldn’t really comprehend the concept of leaving the Capitol but he knew they’d come back soon.

Then they didn’t.

Business plans shifted and Glen stayed in Two for twelve years per the President’s request. Coriolanus hadn’t asked about it much and hadn’t heard much about it either but his father told him that President Ravenstill wanted someone truly Capitol to oversee production in Two. Not some Peacekeeper who only does what they’re told so long as they get paid.

So for twelve years, the Nightingales lived in District Two. They’d come back to the Capitol a week ago so that Soarynn could have some time to adjust before starting her final year at the Academy.

“She misses her friends, how simple things were in Two but, she’ll come around eventually. Perhaps you could help her Coriolanus,” Glen suggests. Coriolanus looks around the foyer to make sure that there’s not another Coriolanus that Glen is addressing but he’s the only one. He gives Glen a tight-lipped smile but he really doesn’t want anything to do with some girl who longs for the Districts. Not when he’s seen how filthy and backward those people are.

“Of course, I suppose I could try to find some free time in my schedule to…”

His voice dies off as he looks at the top of the staircase, his attention suddenly drawn to a very, very pretty young girl.

It’s Soarynn.

She looks so…different. So grown up as she gracefully descends the stairs. She’s wearing a navy blue dress that cinches at the waist and flows right above her knees, held up by two thick velvet straps. Her blonde hair tumbles down her back and it looks so soft. She’s wearing very high heels but she walks in them as if walking on air. The moment they lock eyes, Coriolanus forgets his own name for a moment.

She’s beautiful.

He had forgotten how striking Glen Nightingale’s daughter is. When they were little he didn’t pay much attention to it because girls were gross and he didn’t want to have a crush on anyone.

But this is very different.

Her tan skin compliments her beautifully and her face is dotted with freckles. What’s truly striking about her is her eyes, blue and gray.

Soarynn gives him a smile before turning to their parents, “I do apologize for being late, I had to make sure Petunia was all settled. It’s wonderful to see you again Mr. and Mrs. Snow.”

Coriolanus watches as she embraces his parents. His mother pulls Soarynn in for a true and genuine hug, she always adored Soarynn. His father gives her more of a side hug and runs a hand over her hair before releasing her with a nod as if he’s pleased with the young lady she’s become.

Then it’s his turn and for some reason, he’s nervous.

But he’s a Snow. Coriolanus clears his throat and gives her a slight nod, “It’s nice to see you again Soarynn.” He holds out his hand and Soarynn being the well raised Capitol lady she is, places her hand in his, allowing him to place a swift kiss onto the back of it before releasing her.

“You haven’t changed a bit Coryo,” she says with a grin. Coriolanus raises his eyebrows at the nickname, the nickname he hasn’t heard since she left. It’s surprisingly nice to hear it again.

Coriolanus offers her a small smile, “Thank you. It’s nice to see you back in the Capitol.”

Her perfect society smile falters before she straightens back up again and nods, “Yes,” she agrees, “it’s lovely to be back home.”

꧁ ꧂

“It’s hilarious really, how different they are from us,” mother muses while sipping wine from her glass. Her statement earns her an approving nod from his father who always has and always will hate the Districts and those who live in them.

Coriolanus notices how Soarynn says nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line while her father merely nods, “They most definitely lead a different life than we do,” he finally says.

Coriolanus clears his throat, feeling the need to ease the slight tension in the room, “What was the school like? You attended the District school didn’t you?” Soarynn looks up from her plate where she’s been pushing her chicken around for the last ten minutes and nods, “Yes, I attended school with the other District children.”

Mother lets out a sad sigh and shakes her head, “It's a shame you had to take her with you Glen. She’s missed out on such a fine education here in the Capitol. Why, surely we could’ve stood in as her parents while you were down in Two. We discussed it didn’t we?” She asks father who grunts.

Coriolanus can’t stop the look of surprise on his face and neither can Soarynn although she seems more upset than surprised. “You would’ve let me stay in the Capitol?” She asks her father and it sounds as if she’s accusing him of something horrible, not the opportunity to receive the best education money can buy.

Glen, who is a quiet, passive man for the most part, sighs and gives her a tired look, “I only considered it for a moment when your education was brought up. But I didn’t want you to be too far away from me and the rest is history.” Soarynn still doesn’t look happy and she shoots him an angered look, “What was wrong with the education I received in Two?”

Coriolanus watches his parents exchange looks but they say nothing, this doesn’t concern them it seems. “Nothing was wrong with it honey,” Glen says gently, placing his hand over his daughter’s hand, “for a moment I simply…I worried for you and how you’d conform but everything was fine. Besides, we’re back home now aren’t we?”

Soarynn pulls her hand out from under his and pushes back her chair, “Yes we are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling too well. I think I’ll retire early.” Soarynn doesn’t wait for a reply and the sound of her chair scratching across the hardwood causes Coriolanus to cringe.

She’s out of the room before anyone can say a thing.

Glen sighs and shakes his head, “As I said before, she’s having a difficult time adjusting.” He’s met with sympathetic nods from all the Snows and his mother reaches her hand across the table to give his arm a squeeze, “She’ll come around Glen. If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll bounce back in no time.”

Coriolanus barely remembers Mrs. Nightingale. Only that she had a kind smile and smelled like vanilla.

She died right before the Nightingales left for Two and Coriolanus can’t help but wonder if that’s why they truly stayed away for so long, if they couldn’t bear to come home to a house without her in it.

Glen offers her a small smile, “It’s been strange not having her around. We were barely able to process her passing before we packed up and left. Coming home felt…different.”

Coriolanus tunes out the rest of their conversation, his mind keeps drifting to the girl upstairs who’s probably hurting more than she’s letting on. She won’t survive her final year of the Academy if she keeps acting like this. Glen would do well to keep her home if this behavior continues.

He’s moving before he can stop himself, “Where are you going, darling?” His mother’s question is what draws him out of his thoughts and Coriolanus realizes that he’s standing up, “I thought I might check on Soarynn,” he explains.

All the adults nod and Glen nods towards the chocolate-covered strawberries sitting in a bowl in the middle of the table, “Bring that up. It’s her favorite dessert.” I know, Coriolanus wants to say but he just takes the bowl and heads to the foyer.

He hasn’t climbed these stairs in years but he still remembers the way to Soarynn’s bedroom. It’s near the back of the house and she even has a balcony that overlooks their backyard.

The door is shut and he knocks once, twice, three times.

He gets no response but he doubts that Soarynn is asleep so he carefully opens the door. He’s greeted by something brushing against his leg and looks down to see a fluffy white cat looking up at him. Her eyes are almost the same color as Soarynn’s and she has a pink nose with a pink ribbon tied around her neck.

If Soarynn were a cat, she’d look just like this one.

The cat meows before turning to go back into the room and Coriolanus follows her, gently closing the door behind him. He remembers how badly Soarynn wanted a cat when she was little. Looks like she got her wish.

The cat leads him to the balcony where the doors are slightly ajar and they creak when he pushes them open. He finds Soarynn sitting on the ground, her knees pulled to her chest as she looks out into her backyard. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” she says.

Coriolanus awkwardly shifts on his feet, she must think her father came to see her. “Are you in the mood for dessert?” He asks and Soarynn turns to look up at him, her eyes are wide, “Oh, I’m sorry. I…I thought you were my fa—“

“Your father? Yeah, I figured,” he says, taking a few more steps towards her, “I came up to check on you. And I come bearing gifts,” he adds, holding up the bowl of treats.

Soarynn smiles a little and brushes her hair behind her ears, “Alright. I do hate to miss dessert.”

꧁ ꧂

It’s strange to be back in her room when it looks so different.

Her bedsheets are still pink but the walls are no longer that color, they’re now a light blue, and all the toys that used to be scattered around the floor are gone. There’s a vanity and a dresser and Coriolanus can see into her closet where there are tons of clothes.

Soarynn doesn’t seem to be put off by the mess of several moving boxes on the floor, she just slips onto her bed and scratches her cat behind the ears.

Coriolanus sits on the very edge of the bed. He doesn’t want to get too comfortable. “What’s her name?” He asks, watching the feline purr as she’s given attention. Soarynn smiles and gently picks up the cat and places her in her lap, “Petunia. I got her for my sixteenth birthday.” That was over a year ago considering that Soarynn is now seventeen. Coriolanus is too although he’s a few months older than her.

“Are you…happy to be back?” He asks with some caution in his tone. Soarynn frowns and plays with the hem of her dress, “Happy? No. Overwhelmed? Most definitely.”

He can understand that, it must be a lot to come back into this lifestyle. Especially after living in the Districts. From what he was told, the Nightingales lived in one of the houses in the Victor’s Village with the finest Capitol things money could buy. He still would rather live in the Capitol, but as it seems, beggars can’t be choosers.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it again,” he assures her, placing the bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries in front of her. Soarynn nods but she looks like she doesn’t believe it.

She looks very pretty.

“There’s a boy in our class, Sejanus Plinth,” Coriolanus remembers, “he’s from Two. His family moved here after the war.” Soarynn raises her eyebrows, they both lived through the war although he can’t imagine what it was like in Two. It was the Capitol’s main military base but he can bet that there were moments of pure fear.

“Maybe I can befriend him," Soarynn decides before taking a strawberry and popping it into her mouth. It’s hard not to notice how her lips wrap around it and how she swallows and…he’s losing focus.

Soarynn pushes the bowl towards him, “Want one?” He feels his face getting hotter by the second, “No thanks. Um, you got rid of your dolls,” he says stupidly.

Soarynn smirks and looks around at her room, the room that has now grown up with her. Dolls for dresses and stuffed animals for shoes. She’s all grown up now.

“Well I’m not that little girl anymore Coriolanus,” she says and his throat tightens at how low her voice has gotten. Soarynn is very attractive but he barely knows her anymore it feels like.

“So what? You mean to tell me you got some experience under your belt out in Two?” He asks, a hint of jealousy in his voice. Three hours ago Soarynn didn’t mean a damn thing to him. But now, now things are different. Their dynamic is different.

Soarynn looks so soft and delicate. The mere thought of some District scum putting their grubby, dirty hands on her. No, Soarynn Nightingale deserves the hands of a Capitol man on her body.

She tilts her head and offers him a smile that tells him that she certainly isn’t that little girl playing with dolls anymore. “You could say that,” she replies.

Coriolanus swallows because now he has to know what she’s done and compare to what he’s done.

“Go on,” he encourages and Soarynn shifts on her bed, her legs tucked under her as she thinks, “Well, my first kiss was behind the school, I don’t quite remember his name though.”

It’s like he can feel his jaw tightening, his hands curling into fists. Soarynn doesn’t stop though, in fact, it seems like she’s trying to piss him off. “Then there was my first time doing anything orally, we almost got caught too, but it was well worth it.” Coriolanus nods but doesn’t say anything, “And my first time, well, it was a Peacekee—“

Coriolanus is lunging across the bed before he can stop himself and has Soarynn pinned under him in a matter of seconds, her wrists held together in one of his hands while his knee keeps her thighs apart.

“Tell me you didn’t let some lowlife Peacekeeper fuck you for the first time,” he grits out. Soarynn blinks up at him so innocently that he’s starting to gain some hope, “Of course not. It was one of the winning Tributes from District Two. You remember the boy from a couple years ago don’t you?”

She’s trying to rile him up and she’s succeeded. His lips are on hers in a matter of seconds and she’s kissing him back with the same amount of passion. It seems that she feels some type of way about him as well. This feeling goes further than friendship.

His teeth nip at her bottom lip and Soarynn gasps, allowing him to explore her mouth and claim it as his. If she's as experienced as she claims, she should have no problem showing him what she's learned. He slips a hand down between her thighs and relishes in the moan she lets out. She's so sweet and soft even in the most lustful moments.

He can feel how soaked she is through her lace panties, how desperate she is. Was this her plan from the start? To lure him up here? If it was, she succeeded. "Already soaked," he whispers against her lips, "makes me wonder if you're as loose as those District girls." Soarynn's reaction to those words is immediate and painful as she grabs a fistful of his golden curls and yanks his head back.

"I am not some District whore," she spits out, attempting to sit up. But Coriolanus can't have that and he's quick to push her back down, using his full body weight this time to keep her pinned to the bed, "No?" He taunts, "Because you certainly couldn't be a polite Capitol lady who saves herself for marriage. Which begs the question Soarynn, what do you want to be?"

Soarynn gasps when his fingers graze her clit and she bucks her hips up before whispering the word that makes his cock throb, "Yours."

So she did plan this. Well, he's not going to be the one to ruin her fun, not when he's just as eager as she is. His fingers pull her panties to the side and he groans when he's finally granted access to her cunt, it's so wet, so eager for him to play with. Soarynn is moaning and whimpering as he drags two fingers up and down her folds, "Stop teasing," she whines.

Coriolanus chuckles and places several kisses on her neck, "Stop whining." Soarynn scoffs but the attitude fades the moment he slips the fingers into her cunt and they both moan at the sensation. Her walls wrap around his fingers as he drags them in and out at a leisurely pace, warming her up for bigger things. "Oh, please," she moans, "feels so good. Fuck Coryo."

Her cunt feels so good and he's only got two fingers in. And Soarynn is something else, the way her hips buck up and her eyes squeeze shut. She's a vision.

He can't believe that this is the same girl he used to play dolls with.

He can feel his bulge growing bigger and bigger as the minutes pass, straining in his boxers. Coriolanus glances over his shoulder at her bedroom door, the door that could open at any moment and expose them.

But he's not too worried, not yet at least.

He turns his focus back to Soarynn whose moans are music to his ears. He wants to see more of her, feel more of her. "Take off your dress," he says, pulling his fingers out from her cunt which earns him a frustrated whine. "Why would I do that?" Soarynn asks rather defiantly, her eyes holding his in a delicate yet dangerous staring contest. He's forgotten, he thinks, how feisty she can get.

But Coriolanus doesn't let that stop him. In fact, he ignores it and begins unbuttoning his own shirt, casting it aside once he's shrugged it off, revealing his sculpted abdomen. Soarynn stares for a moment and bites her lip, "Fine." He almost wants to laugh at how easy it was to get her to agree to his request but perhaps the Districts have changed her in more ways than one.

The dress is a bit more tricky to get off, Coriolanus had found that all women's clothing is far too complicated for his liking. But, being the true gentleman he is, Coriolanus helps Soarynn out of the dress, revealing the pair of dark blue panties stuck to her cunt and her bare breasts.

He swallows because she looks just like the dolls they used to play with. He remembers them well, blue eyes with long lashes painted onto their faces with their blonde hair styled however Soarynn wanted. Every once in a while she'd want to change their outfits and he would be tasked with dressing them. As a young boy, he didn't really like that part. There was of course, nothing to see when it came to dressing the doll, but now he can't help but notice how alike Soarynn is to them.

A small waist and long legs, breasts that are the perfect size, and a pretty face.

"You look like a doll," he blurts out and she gives him a nervous smile, "In a good way, or a bad way?" She asks, tilting her head. Coriolanus grabs her waist and pulls her back under him, his lips ghosting the shell of her ear, "In a good way," he says, his voice deep and husky.

He has to fuck her now or he might just combust, "You don't happen to have a condom on you?" He asks, somewhat embarrassed at asking such a stupid yet necessary question. His mother often talks about wanting grandchildren sooner than later but now is not the time to get started on that.

Soarynn smirks and shakes her head, "I'm on the pill." Well, she doesn't need to do any more convincing. Coriolanus works quickly to unbutton and unzip his pants, desperate to feel Soarynn's walls wrapped around his cock. Soarynn whimpers at the sight of his cock straining in his boxers, "Am I bigger than the Victor you let fuck you?" He asks, wondering how those two even crossed paths.

Does Glen Nightingale know about his daughter sleeping around?

Soarynn wraps a leg around his waist, her heel pressing into his back, "I guess I'll have to feel you to find out," she snaps and now he's pissed. Coriolanus nods and finally pulls out his cock, hard and ready to fuck her the way she needs to be fucked. "It'll be the only thing that fucks you," he tells her as he slowly pushes into her entrance.

Soarynn gasps as her walls wrap tightly around his cock, she feels so fucking good, so wet and warm. "Fuck," he pants, "you feel so good Soarynn." He's almost all the way in and Soarynn's eyes are already rolling to the back of her head, her hands fly to his shoulders and her nails dig into the skin.

Once he bottoms out they both take a breath, his forehead rests on hers. He watches her face for any signs of discomfort or pain but finds none. Her eyes are closed as she takes in deep breaths and she really is the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

He decides then and there that they're now an inseparable pair, she won't have to worry about fitting in at the Academy and making friends as long as she's at his side.

He begins to thrust in slowly, setting a nice steady pace while he thinks of their future together. They'll be quite the attractive pair, and from what he's heard, Soarynn is very intelligent which is good, he could never date some ditzy girl. They'll go to all the parties, galas, and events that are thrown in the Capitol. His parents will be thrilled that he's finally settled down and Glen will be pleased and relieved that his daughter has assimilated back into the Capitol culture.

Soarynn rakes her nails down his shoulders once he picks up the pace and she moans loudly, too loudly so he's quick to press his lips to hers, both of them tangled in a passionate kiss. "Is this better than some District scum?" He asks her, his hips slamming into hers relentlessly, "Or do you still need to find out." His hand slips down between her legs and his fingers find her clit, rubbing it in circles and Soarynn makes a pitiful noise at the stimulation, "No!" She cries out, her entire body seizing, "You're the best Coryo," she says, "you're the best."

He smirks and presses one last kiss to her lips before pulling away so he can look at the ungodly sight of his cock thrusting in and out of her tight little cunt. She takes him so well and he meant it when he said it, he'll be the only one fucking her from now on.

He picks up the pace, wanting to get Soarynn to her peak before he reaches his and watches how her face twists in ecstasy. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flush and her eyes rolling back. "Oh, please," she whimpers, "please, please, please let me cum." Out of all the girls he's fucked, Soarynn is definitely the most polite.

Coriolanus grabs her hip with the other hand and keeps her pinned to the bed as he fucks her towards her orgasm, her body is spasming now, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to do anything but lie there and take it.

He loves it.

"That's right," he says, "take it like the good girl you are Soarynn. You look so perfect like this, stuck on my cock, taking everything I give you like my own little fuckdoll."

Soarynn squeezes her eyes shut and he can feel her walls fluttering around him as she finally hits her peak. She's a sight for sore eyes when she cums, her back bends off the bed like a puppet on a string and her mouth is open in a silent scream as she works through her orgasm.

But Coriolanus isn't finished with her, not yet. He still has to finish, even if she is sensitive and tired. He bends back over her body, his elbows on either side of her head, caging her in. "Look at me Soarynn," he orders and he's truly taken aback by her startling blue-gray eyes. "Did you let that Victor finish inside of you? Let him finish deep inside your tight little cunt?" He's taunting her but he also does want to know, wants to know if she's been tainted.

Soarynn bites her lip and looks away for a moment, "No," she manages to get out before he lands a particularly hard thrust abusing her sweet spot, "No, I...I didn't let him finish inside of me," she gasps. Coriolanus hums and takes a hand to wrap around her pretty little throat, "Well I fully intend on finishing inside of this cunt every single time. Do you understand?" Her eyes are wide but she also can't breathe very well so she nods, wheezing for air.

Coriolanus smiles, pleased that she didn't put up any arguments. He sits back up, wanting to see this all unfold as he finishes inside of her for the first time. "Good, now take it like you should."

꧁ ꧂

"Coriolanus! Let's go, darling," his mother calls before getting into the car.

Coriolanus looks over his shoulder and nods before looking back down at Soarynn who's smiling up at him. They're both at her front door, leaning against the doorway. She stands on one side of the threshold, inside her childhood home with Petunia sitting right next to her. He stands on the other side, the cool evening air sending chills down his spine.

"When do you have your uniform fittings?" He asks, reaching out to take a piece of her soft blonde hair, twirling it around his finger. Soarynn watches him for a moment before answering, "In two days, I got in last minute thankfully." Their school year starts next week, its a good thing they managed to squeeze her in before she ended up walking around in the most unflattering of clothes.

"I'll come with you," he decides, "keep you company." Soarynn giggles and takes a step towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck which causes her to stand on her tiptoes, "I'd like that," she whispers. Coriolanus presses one last kiss to her lips, his hand coming to hold the back of her head as Soarynn sighs into the kiss.

When they pull away he's breathless and still can't believe how the night has ended for them. "I'll see you soon," he promises, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she releases him, watching him walk to his car. He looks back at the Nightingale's townhouse one last time and sees Soarynn holding Petunia, using one of her paws to wave goodbye although the cat does not look too happy about that.

Coriolanus laughs and gives them both a final wave before getting into the car and closing the door. he's met with expectant looks from both his parents who he's sure are very curious as to why when he and Soarynn came back downstairs an hour and a half ago, they were extremely cozy with each other.

"Well?" Mother asks, leaning forward to get the scoop. Coriolanus shrugs and looks out the window at the Capitol streets blurring by, "We simply reconnected. Soarynn is a lovely girl and I think we might pursue something more serious."

His mother almost lets out a sigh of relief and smiles at him then at his father, "Well that is wonderful news darling. She is rather lovely, and it helps that we already know her father." Coriolanus nods but his gaze finds his father who still hasn't said anything. His opinion matters the most.

He clears his throat and gives Coriolanus a simple nod, "It's a good union," he decides, "two powerful names joining together and securing the bloodline. Keep her safe and by your side at all times and everything will go the way it should."

Coriolanus swallows, "Yes sir."

Mother is beaming the entire car ride, ecstatic about the young couple while Coriolanus looks out the window again. He can't help but smile as they pull in front of their apartment building.

Snow lands on top once again.

| Part 1. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

{ Part 2. }

[tealeavesandtrash]

🎄 Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon: Part 7 - 9 Days Until Christmas 🎄

Read in full || Part 1 || Part 6 || Part 8

“I just don’t understand why I have to dress up as well.” Sirius mutters as he pulls at the collar of his top. It’s a truly horrendous elf outfit - gaudy green and red and completely unnecessary.

“It’s a Potter family tradition,” James replies cheerfully, completely unaware  - or more likely uncaring - of Sirius’ plight. 

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

Sirius glares at James which, given his current get-up, isn’t intimidating at all. Lily’s Mrs Claus costume is understandable with James as Santa (they have always been suckers for matching costumes) and to be fair the dress fits her well and actually looks good, while Harry is the epitome of adorable as he runs around in his reindeer onesie. The three of them would make an annoying adorable family photo.

And then there's Sirius who would currently make a very good Will Ferrel in a knock-off Elf reboot. James is a master of roping people into his schemes which Sirius never had an issue with when they were in school and the schemes were causing as much mayhem as possible. But now those schemes involve Sirius playing dress up while James makes his - incredibly important - debut as Santa Claus for the Christmas Fete. And Sirius had been so close to resisting until James pulled the trump card and announced mournfully that Harry was looking forward to them all matching and it would ruin the Christmas magic if Sirius didn’t at least try. 

So Sirius gets stuck with an hour of elf duties, left alone to manage the queue to Santa’s grotto while Lily does a lap of the stalls with Harry. It’s not the worst thing in the world, the kids seem to love it and it’s certainly a conversation starter for some of the parents, but hat is itchy and bells jangle every time he moves.

When Lily returns she also has Teddy and Remus in tow. Remus just gives him a knowing smirk when he clocks the costume while Lily hands Harry over.

“He only has £5 spending money,” she tells him sternly. “Don’t let him spend it all on sweets and don’t spoil him.”

There’s a lapse of awkward silence after Sirius is relinquished from grotto duty and they set off, the normal buffer of Harry and Teddy absent as the two of them scamper ahead.  The second he’s able, Sirius rips the hat off and shoves it into his jacket pocket.

“So,” Remus says slowly. “Is that better or worse than the jumper?”

“Don’t rub it in,” Sirius groans at the reminder. “I am really sorry about that, I should have apologised sooner.”

Remus eyes him curiously for a minute before shrugging it off. “It’s okay. I know they're hideous. I’m pretty sure James is pandering me by wearing it, but he’s so sincere I can’t tell.”

“Trust me, he genuinely loves it.”

“Well play your cards right and you might get one next year.”

“Is that a threat Mr Lupin?”

“I think that outfit alone is karma enough.”

“Yeah well, I would have been Mrs Claus if Lily had let me.”

Remus is still watching him carefully. “Do you have the legs to pull off that skirt?”

“I know you’re joking Lupin, but I will have you know I used to have a very promising drag career.”

Remus snots, “What happened? Did someone push you down the stairs, ruin your career and take the lead?”

Sirius pauses a moment. “Was that a Showgirls reference?”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Remus shrugs with a sly smile. “So who Nomi-ed you?”

Sirius huffs a laugh. “Fucking hell you’re full of surprises aren’t you.”

Remus’ lips quirk up more at the comment, eyebrow raised. 'Language’ he mutters, head jerking slightly to Teddy even though the kid is too wrapped up in the tombola stall to pay attention to their conversation. 

Sirius watches Remus as he gently ushers Teddy along before he spends all his pocket money on the one stall. There’s something about him that Sirius can’t quite figure out, Minerva wasn’t kidding when she said there was more to him than meets the eye. Every time they meet it's like another piece of the puzzle gets unlocked and all Sirius wants to do is find all the pieces and complete the Remus Lupin jigsaw. 

He has to take a couple of strides to catch up with them, who have moved onto a guess-the-number-of-jellybeans-in-the-jar completion. 

“For the record,” he carries on, “it wasn’t anything nearly that dramatic. I just stopped when I joined my dad's company.”

“Well surely the work hours didn’t clash,” Remus says, glancing back over to Sirius. 

“No, but apparently that sort of side gig promotes a bad image of the company.” 

Remus frowns. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Sirius shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“That doesn’t make it okay, Sirius. That’s blatant discrimination.”

“Yeah I know,” Sirius heaves a sigh. “But pick your battles and all that.”

Remus is staring at him intently now like he’s trying to unpick the deeper implication of the words and Sirius has to drop his gaze under the scrutiny that leaves him exposed to the emotional vulnrabilty. Tentatively, Remus reaches out and gives Sirius’ hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry you have to put up with that,” he says quietly enough for only Sirius to hear.

Sirius squeezes back. He swallows thickly, letting their hands stay clasped for a little longer than maybe they should before eventually dropping his hand and crouching down next to Teddy who is staring intently at the large jar of jellybeans. 

“So,” he whispers conspiringly. “How many do you think there are?”

Teddy has a deep-set look of concentration. “Ten thousand,” he says with utmost certainty. 

Sirius lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s a lot. I think I’m going to go with ten thousand and one.”

Teddy giggles. “You can’t guess that, it’s too close to mine!”

“Hm, ten thousand and two?”

Teddy shakes his head again. 

“Ten thousand and three?”

At that Teddy pauses, thinks it over, and gives his nod of agreement. 

He watches with earnest as Sirius carefully fills out their names and guesses on the answer sheet. And, when Remus goes to pay for their entries, Sirius quickly cuts in.  “I’ve got it, half of it’s mine,” he says as he bats Remus’ hand away. 

“I can’t expect you to go around paying for my kid.”

Sirius just shrugs. “It’s fine, any friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine and all that.”

Remus doesn’t argue with that, although Sirius suspects it may be to just avoid causing a scene. Still, he fixes Sirius with a look that he can’t quite decipher as he hands over the money to the stall owner. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. 

Read in full || Part 1 || Part 6 || Part 8

@annaliza999 @marigold-hills @veganbutterchicken (If you do/dont want to be tagged in the next parts lmk <3)