#he said 'write drunk edit sober'

[rise-of-the-ancients]

I’m on my knees begging for a crumb of what you have in store for the next chapter. Could we get a crumb?

OMEGA acquires legs, does a jig, and accidentally causes a problem.

[darnell-la]

𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗚𝗢 𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗟𝗟 𝗛𝗨𝗥𝗧 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥

pairing: traumatized & emotional!logan howlett x mutant close friend!reader

warnings: heavy drinking, growing close, therapist friend, emotions, nightmares, a lot of blood, panicking, near death, regeneration, confessions, kisses, realization, conclusion, etc.

summary: after an unexpected night, Logan realizes the danger he is for sticking to the past. he had to learn to let go of the evil that never was right for him.

note: this story has NO SMUT, but we got Logan who’s an emotional mess and breaks apart after injuring y/n on a mistake.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

When Jean died, y/n was the only one there for Logan. The x men couldn’t see the pain he was in, but she could. When she’d make her nightly routine to get water from the kitchen, he’d be down there passed out on one of the kitchen chairs, or drinking until he got to that point.

Y/n would pass by him for weeks. They soon became a couple of months, but after a while, she felt bad. He wasn’t keeping himself up and any time he spoke to the crew, he had an attitude and was drunk.

Charles had banned him on missions until he got sober, but that wasn’t happening any time soon.

It took a while for y/n to talk to Logan without him pushing her away. One night he was crying in the living, and she walked in.

The woman sat next to him and softly patted his knee, trying to do something to calm him down. Before she knew it, the man pulled her into a tight hug as he sobbed.

That night he poured his heart out to y/n. She had to tell him that what he did to Jean wasn’t his fault and it had to be done. She asked, “How do you think Scott felt when he thought she was gone?”

Logan knew Jean, but she was confused about why her death hit him so hard. He explained that everyone he cares for eventually dies. He said he was cursed.

For the past year, y/n has worked with Logan almost daily as a side therapist. Some days she’ll have to force him to talk while others, he comes to her.

They grew close, now fighting by each other’s side, rarely being seen without the other, having their drinking nights and sometimes falling asleep together on the couch.

Logan would be the first to wake up, so he’d carry the young woman to her bed. The first several times, he would leave to his own, then after, he’d stay and sleep on her sofa.

“Jean?” Logan asked as he turned around in his bed, seeing the woman he killed, lying next to him in a white nightgown. “Is that really you?” He asked as he sat up, hand instantly rubbing her cheek.

“Yes,” her voice seemed low as her eyes stared into his. “I-I’m sorry, Jean,” Logan’s eyes began to tear up. “Please stay. I promise I won’t hurt you or anyone else again,” he begged.

Jean leaned into the man’s ear with a slight smirk and blinked slowly. “Too late,” she said. Logan had felt his hand tingle. He was confused until he looked down, seeing his claws inside of the woman’s stomach.

“No, Jean!” He yelled. There was a huge poodle of blood. “Jean, please, no!” He pulled his claws away before pushing down on her stomach. “You were born to hurt people,” she spoke before her eyes darkened.

Logan hated her hateful words. After she came back the last time, she’s been hurtful.

Jean’s mouth opened, now screaming at Logan’s face, making him close his eyes. “Logan,” I voice called which seemed so far. “L-Logan,” y/n choked as her hand wrapped around his wrists tighter, trying to wake him up.

Logan’s eyes slowly opened, realizing he was in a dream. “Logan,” y/n could barely speak as the blood in her throat began to form. The man looked down seeing his class in her stomach.

“No,” he spoke low, not believing it at first until her fingers slowly slipped from his wrists. Y/n’s body leaned back, about to crash onto the floor until Logan held her up with his arms.

“No — Y/n I-“ his words got stuck in his throat. He’s never done this to anyone before, and that someone had to be y/n. “Y/n, stay up,” the man’s hands now pressed on her stomach.

“O-Okay,” she looked into the man’s eyes as she tried breathing. The blood made it hard, and he knew that. Logan looked around the room, looking at a place to place her so he could go run for help.

“C’mon,” Logan got up, carrying the girl in bridal style for only a few seconds until he laid her on her bed. He had fallen asleep on her sofa again. Now he was regretting showing this little detailed affection towards her. If he just left her downstairs and went to his own bed, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Fuck- Why did you come near me. You know how I can get,” scared tears started slipping down Logan’s cheeks. How could he do this? To her or all people. “W-Wanted to h-help,” y/n has never sounded worse in her life.

“Shit- I-I need to get help,” Logan said before yelling through the house for Storm and Hank. “Storm! Hank!” Logan ran downstairs since that’s where their rooms are at.

“God,” Hank yanked in annoyance as Storm rushed out of her room. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Storm asked, not too worried until he looked down at his fist. It was covered in blood along with a few splatters on his white tank top and thick blue jeans.

“What the hell happened!?” Hank’s body froze. “Y/n, she was- She came up to me while I was sleep a-and I had a dream. A-A very bad dream and I stuck Jean but when I woke up-“ he tried finishing.

“You stuck her,” Storm imagined. Storm remembers when he stuck Rachel on her shoulder, but it has to be worse if that much blood is on his hands and he’s shaking.

“You stuck Jean?” Hank asked as Storm and Logan began jogging back upstairs. “No! No, it was a dream. A very bad fucking dream,”

“Where is she? In your room? Why was she in your room?” Storm grabbed Logan’s door handle until he stopped her. “No, she’s in hers,” he said before taking a deep breath, admitting that he was in her room.

“What?” She asked as she sped over across the hall to hers. “A-After we pass out on the couch, I’m usually the one who wakes up first so I- I carry her to her bed and pass out on her sofa,”

Storm sped through y/n’s open room door and gasped at the sight of her. Her middle body was covered in blood and her head was tilted to the side with her eyes closed. She looked lifeless.

“N-No, no!” Logan ran over to her to put pressure on the wound. “I told you to put pressure on the wound, y/n!” He yelled as he used one hand to slap at her face, he she wouldn’t wake up.

“How bad does it look- Oh fuck,” Hank quickly ran over to y/n. The man pressed his two fingers on her neck to check for a pulse, and he got one. A very slow and weak pulse.

“She’s still alive, but she needs to go to the lab. Now!” Logan quickly picked Y/n up, now running through the mansion as kids came out of their rooms. “I’ll get the kids back to bed,” Storm stated back to do her job.

“Please, y/n, don’t do this to me, please,” Logan could feel his heart rate rise as her body felt slumped. She gave no sign of any form of life.

“Place her on here, quickly,” Hank tapped the medical bed, and Logan did as told. “I’m going to have to sedate her before I work on her — I don’t think you should be in here for this,” Hank suggested.

“Why not!? I did this to her, so f-fuck how I feel about seeing you cut her open. I’m the one that stabbed her!” Logan felt all different emotions. He couldn’t help it.

“It’s not for your sake, it’s for mine. She’s my friend too, and I want to concentrate and keep her alive,” Hank said. “No, no — I-I can’t leave her. I don’t want to leave her!”

Logan shook his head side from side, refusing to leave. He has nothing else to do. He’d only be somewhere stressed and waiting for Hank to come to him with bad news.

“Logan — I’ve got this. But I need my space,” Hank said low as he touched Logan’s shoulder to calm the man down who was looking down at y/n with tears. The white nightgown was soaked in blood. She was losing so much.

“I-I’ll be back, y/n. Please don’t do this time me,” Logan tightly gripped the unconscious girl's hand, raising it to his mouth before he gave her a peck.

“Did she make it? Is she alive!?” Logan quickly got up as the door to his lab opened. The man sat there all night. Hank slowly walked out of the lab without saying a word.

“What? What, is she- D-Did I kill her? Is she dead!?” Logan felt his heart sink as he kept walking towards the man. “No — She’s actually just fine,” Hank spoke as y/n walked through the lab doors.

She had a medical gown on and looked healthier than ever.

Logan ran over to the girl and picked her up to hug her tightly as he cried in her neck. “I’m so sorry!” He sobbed as his fingers gripped her body, not wanting to let her go.

“It’s not your fault, Logan. Things happen, and I don’t want to hear otherwise,” she said, seeing his mouth open to argue. “You saved my life. That’s all you need to think about,”

Logan was lost for words as he placed y/n down. He couldn’t argue, and she looked alive. She was alive.

The man grabbed the girl's face a bit rough as he pulled her into a long and passionate kiss that was followed with apologies. Y/n’s soft hands grabbed his cheeks as well, pulling him in closer.

“No thanks to me, I guess,” Hank said as the two laughed in between their kiss. “Thank you, Hank,” Y/n pulled away from Logan and looked at the man who barely had to do anything.

“I’m completely joking. I barely had to do anything anyways,” Hank said which confused Logan. “What are you talking about?” Logan asked as he placed his hand over y/n’s wounds that he couldn’t feel. He thought the gown was in the way until he lifted the gown up to see no marks. Just her in a pair of medical tights.

“She regenerates, Logan. Just like you! — So perfect for each other,” Hank rubbed his hands together in excitement. “It only took awhile I’m guessing because this was the first time her skin was broken that bad,”

“I’m so sorry about that, y/n,” Logan instantly felt bad again. “No apologizing. I’m here now,” y/n softly grabbed Logan’s face again. “With me,” he added before kissing her again, but this time more passionately.

After that day, Logan and y/n built their relationship. He wasn’t so sure at first, but he couldn’t ignore the feelings he had grown for her. All the times he wanted to tell her this wouldn’t work, those pretty eyes would make him forget was he was going to tell her.

Logan has only had one nightmare after the night he almost killed y/n. He was furious when he saw Jean. She killed Scott, she killed Charles and almost had y/n killed.

He soon realized that women were never for him. He just grew feelings from the competition between him and Scott, but now that he’s gone, Logan couldn’t forgive and forget what she’s done.

It took a while for Logan to let Y/n lay in the same bed as him, but after she snuck into his room one night and he woke up to her wrapped around him peacefully — he couldn’t deny it anymore.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Writing Advice From Various Authors!

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing:

Ernest Hemingway

“Write drunk and edit sober?” I never said that. Do both drunk, wimp.

William S. Burroughs

Just goddamn write and don't damn censor yourself or you should be hanged like a twink what's set aflame as he’s hanged on rope made of the lies and deceits of the city, the cursed city, the lugubrious city.

Yukio Mishima

You cannot capture beauty in words. Instead, die very painfully on someone's office floor, in that alone there is beauty.

Stephen King

Write six pages a day and don’t cut anything, even if everyone says “Stephen, for the love of god don’t write that, the rest of the novel is great but please don’t include that, what are you thinking?”

Cormac McCarthy

do whatever you want dont even use punctuation then people will think youre brilliant for some reason for each writer is the writer of all writers who suffers the sins of all men

J.K. Rowling

It’s critical to teach tolerance, understanding, and compassion in your books. Then and only then will people believe you when you tell them to hate and harm the people you tell them to.

E.L. James

Put your pen to paper so hard it can poke past that thin membrane page and plunge hard into your imagination. Write with strokes gentle and firm that make the reader soaked in their own gratification and struggle to close the book back up again, so hard did they break its spine in the throws of their perusal.

Hunter S. Thompson

The hell are you asking son don’t you dare YOU GET OFF MY PROPERTY! I invited you? Maybe but it won’t make you less dead THIS IS THE TIME WHEN THE WORD IS MADE FLESH! Republican meat needs no salt.

Ari Bach

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing.

[matthewtkachuk]

last night (blame it on the vodka)

They say drunk words are sober thoughts, so what are drunken confessions of love?

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: a pinch of angst, swearing, alcohol (and its after effects - aka a fat hangover and a twinge of regret)

word count: 3k

a/n: matthew tkachuk is a stanley cup champion!!!! you know i had to do it to ya. ps this idea was formed a million years ago (pre trade) therefore I have simply plucked Cowboys from downtown Calgary to downtown Miami deal with it. big ups to @wyattjohnston for the edit and for outsourcing my geography queries. title and inspo from the song by the same name by lucy spraggan. enjoy my loves and let me know what you think <3

You’re never drinking again. 

It’s a mantra you repeat all morning, from the minute you’re dragged back into consciousness by the sound of construction down on the street, to when you finally pull from bed to dramatically slam the window shut, to the one-two-three-four times you end up with your knees on the bathroom mat and your head in the toilet. 

You’re far too old to be drinking like that on a nearly empty stomach, far too old to be drinking like that regardless. Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, being a mostly single twenty something year old in downtown Miami. Mostly single in that every time you drank, your painfully unrequited crush on probably the one guy in all of Florida you couldn’t pull came out with a vengeance. 

Looking at your phone and all the unread texts you groan, realizing that the little girl who used to write ‘Mrs. Matty Tkachuk’ in all of her diaries came out in full force last night. 

Hyping yourself up, you type out and forward the message ‘What the hell did I do last night?’ to everyone you remember being out with you. Everyone, that is, except Matty himself. 

Brielle: Last night you told him you loved him 

It’s not atypical for you to be out on a Friday night, a group of your closest girlfriends at your side. Neither is it uncommon for the night to begin with the three of you taking thirst traps for the ‘gram before taking shots as the Uber pulls up. 

Cowboys is a favorite place, certainly not for the high class atmosphere or clientele—of which you’ll find neither. But who doesn’t love to let loose in an environment where the city boys of Miami don Stetsons and large belt buckles? And okay, maybe you’re a bit of a gambler—though, with money or love as the currency depends on the night. 

Tonight you’re pressing your luck, drinking enough to dull the edge and to keep you from overreacting to Matt’s response to the aforementioned Insta story. It’s a simple message, a string of fire emojis, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t refresh the app until his username appeared as ‘Seen’ under the story. 

You don’t want to think it means anything when he shows up with a couple of his boys an hour into dancing with the girls. Cowboys is a popular place, evidenced by the crowded dance floor and the complete lack of personal space. So what Brielle was wearing a cowboy hat in one of the pictures and so what everyone and their mother knew this bar was your favorite place to spend Friday nights and so what you’d even tagged the place in a boomerang of your shot glasses five minutes after arriving. 

It didn’t mean anything—doesn’t mean anything. 

That thought doesn’t stop you from abandoning your friends the second you see the all too familiar head of curls.

“Hi Matty,” you greet, stumbling into him and sliding your hand around his waist. He feels solid beneath your fingertips, warm and secure and everything you’ve ever wanted. His resulting grin could build and topple empires, you think. 

But then reality all comes crashing down again as he slides his arm around your shoulders in turn, squeezing gently as he replies, “Hey, Kid.”

It’s the gentle reminder you’ll never be anything more than the annoying girl next door who used to follow him and Brady around like they were the greatest thing in the world. 

If he notices the way you deflate, he doesn’t say a word, though his hand rubs comfortingly at your shoulder for a moment until you can’t stand it anymore and go back to your friends and their sympathetic faces. 

The thing about you when you drink is the filter comes off. Normally you play your cards close to your chest, making it very hard for others to know your emotions. But a little vodka and you’re suddenly ready to face your feelings head on. 

It starts off innocently enough, an over exaggerated ‘I love you!’ when he brings you a drink without you having to ask. But then Georgia is all but holding you down to prevent you from running after him and professing your love. She doesn’t succeed, what with you running into his arms midway through the night anyway. 

He has that same grin on his face as you tell him how much you love him, and though he doesn’t mean it the way you do, he tells you that he loves you too just the same. 

Though you haven’t eaten in at least twelve hours, the thought of food makes your already upset stomach turn some more, and so you settle for making a cup of tea to get some fluids back in you. 

Not quite ready to face the music in terms of what your alcohol fueled self did last night, you ignore the unread messages to flip through some Insta stories. There’s cute pics and videos of you and your girls, you screen shot your favorites and tap away until you pause on a boomerang of Georgia and Brielle. It’s cute enough if you ignore the small stain by Bri’s collar where she’d lost some of the second tequila shot. Oh, and you looking up at Matthew with the most pathetic lovesick look on your face in the background. 

It unsettles your stomach further, and so you abandon all plans of tea—turning off your kettle and grabbing the water bottle you’d prepped for yourself before you left last night and taking up residence on the couch. 

Putting on a random movie from your childhood on Disney+, you lay back and cover yourself with your favorite quilt. Another wave of nausea washes over you, and so you prop yourself up with a few extra pillows and fall asleep sitting up. 

It mustn’t be more than half an hour of uninterrupted sleep before you’re pulled out of it by the incessant buzzing of your phone. It’s a set of four pictures of you on Matt’s lap and another incriminating tidbit from the night before. 

Georgia: Last night you told him you need him

“Shut up Sammy,” you glare, angrily poking his chest with your index finger. You’re grateful for the uncharacteristic change in nail shape at your last manicure, the stiletto tip serving as a makeshift weapon that actually makes him wince before laughing in your face. 

Truthfully, you’re not sure how the night got to this point—you and your girls hanging around a table with Matty and his boys. You’re not complaining though, not with how your bare legs pressed to Matty’s jeans or how his arm rests above your shoulders, fingertips brushing your skin now and then. 

Matt can spot a fight coming from a mile away, well versed in the language that is your rage from the countless years he was the source of it, pulling on your pigtails and breaking your barbies. 

“That’s not my name,” Sam rolls his eyes, rubbing his chest and stealing a swig of your beer. “Lightweight.”

He’s referring to your drunken state and the fact that Matt himself had to drag you to the table with the promise of a Bud Light if, and only if, you drank an entire glass of water. Narrowing your eyes, you begin to lunge at him again, stopped only by the force of Matt pulling you onto his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, one hand resting on your stomach and the other on your bare knee. 

The effects of being wrapped up in him are almost instantaneous. Your rage quickly simmers, your body relaxes and you all but sink into the embrace. You quiet then, content to let the rest of the table do the talking for the moment while you memorize the feel of his arms. 

It’s a nervous habit to fiddle with the small charm around your neck, something you do unconsciously, not even noticing until it’s somehow come undone in your grasp. 

“Matty, I need you,” you whisper against the side of his face, watching his eyes darken and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt with your fist coming at his face with your necklace clenched tightly within. 

He visibly relaxes, motioning for you to lean forward and swiping your hair to the side.You grab the strands of your hair after he takes the necklace from you, shivering as his cold hands drag across your skin. 

Georgia is shaking her head at you from across the table, having clearly read your lips and witnessed the little moment. You just smile and shrug at her before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin of Matt’s jaw. “Thank you.”

You’re pretty sure you’re dying. By the grace of some higher power, you haven’t seen the inside of your bathroom in a hot minute. Yes, you’ve finally moved past stage one of your hangover, however you’re not out of the woods yet. You’re dying a slow death on the couch—feeling yourself dip more and more into dangerous dehydration levels despite the giant water bottle on your coffee table that had been a gag gift from Matt last Christmas. 

Truthfully, the room is still a little spinny and your stomach still a little unsettled, but perhaps the worst of it all is the splitting headache and the sore throat. Both ailments make sense, you’re a yeller when you drink and you’re certain last night was no exception—even if the memories are slow to return to you. 

It’s not aggression, not really. It’s more that your body can’t contain all the emotions that you so carefully hide in your day to day life, and without the control that sobriety brings, you’re wont to let them all spill out. 

And really, you can’t linger on the what ifs too long, so you settle back in for another nap as an attempt to sleep off the symptoms of your poorly thought out night out with another movie playing as background noise. 

Elizabeth has just rejected Darcy when your phone lights up three times. 

sam: let’s just say you’re screwed if you ever wake up in vegas

you: fuck off sammy

sam: still not my name, lightweight 

sam: at least I didn’t propose last night 

“You know, Sammy,” you slur, no longer angry but keeping up the nickname in hopes that the table will think you are and Matty will let you stay in his arms. “You’re very lucky Liz agreed to marry you because other than the hockey thing you really have no redeeming qualities.”

“At least someone wanted to marry me,” he retorts not unkindly. 

“Matty would marry me,” you state confidently, tilting your head back to look up at the man beneath you. “Wouldn’t you, Matty?”

“Gonna have to get down on one knee, Kid,” Matty laughs, shaking your body slightly from where it leans against him. The dopiest smile crosses your face at the sound and you know you’re being far too obvious but you can’t help it. Matty laughing is your favorite sound, and happiness looks so good on him. There’s nothing you hate more than seeing him sad or upset. Nothing except dirty, sticky bar floors, which makes your next actions even more comical. 

Pulling from his arms for the first time in what feels like an eternity—not that you were complaining—you jump from the table and dramatically flop down to one knee. 

“Matthew—M-Matty,” you hiccup, keenly aware of the dozens of eyes on you and yet utterly uncaring of any of them except the icy blue you stare into now. “You’re my b-best friend. Marry me?”

The look he gives you is fond if frigid, not at all the passionate love declaration you were hoping for. Pouting deeply, you don’t move to pull up from the floor. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘not right now’,” he answers, getting up himself and pulling you up by your armpits. You wrap around him like a vine, not even protesting as he leads you to the bar to grab another glass of water and some appetizers for the table. 

God, you really regret asking about last night. Maybe it was better to live in beautiful, blissful ignorance — if you never remembered all the embarrassing behavior did it really happen? 

Unfortunately your vibrating phone simply refuses to let that happen. 

brielle: and you totally ate shit on the pavement leaving the bar last night 

That certainly explains the dull ache of your biceps, having caught the weight of you alongside breaking your fall. Luckily that appears to be the extent of the damage, given you can wiggle all of your fingers and toes and no other part of your body stings. 

Just your ego is bruised. 

“Why would we go home?” you ask, gesturing wildly at the emptying bar around you as though it were still the hopping venue of an hour ago. 

“Cause the bar staff would like to go home too,” Brielle explains kindly. 

“So we go to the next bar? I’m sure there’s somewhere still open, it’s only midnight!” 

Matty’s arm is heavy and warm and secure as it wraps around your shoulder to guide you to the exit. “I’ve already called us an Uber.”

You preen at the mention of an ‘us’ between you and Matt, suddenly docile and calm, allowing him to guide you outside. 

Far too preoccupied with the weight of him, you miss the broken piece of sidewalk and subsequently toe pick the crack, ending up face down on the pavement. 

Matt is quick, pulling you to your feet with ease and examining your face and upper body for damage. “You alright?”

“If I say no, will you kiss it better?” you crack back, only half joking. 

Shaking his head at your antics, he guides you into the waiting car before sliding in beside you. 

You’re quite content to lean your head on his shoulder the whole drive home, arm curled around his before letting him lead you to your bed.

A joke about inviting him into your bed doesn’t leave your lips, momentarily mesmerized by the gentle way he tucks you in, the soft press of his lips to your forehead. 

Could it possibly get worse, you wonder. 

Matty: let me up?

He’s got a key for emergencies, and although you usually appreciate that he doesn’t misuse it, in this case you almost wish he would let himself in. 

It would give you some extra time to compose yourself and—to be quite honest—you do yet harbor a little fear that getting vertical might have you running for the bathroom once again. 

Neither of those things happen—he doesn’t let himself in and you don’t throw up on your way to the door. You make quick work of the lock before opening the door to reveal Matthew looking as well rested as you’ve ever seen him. 

The contrast between the two of you is likely a stark difference, but his face doesn’t give anything away if he’s thinking it too. 

His first words to you are simple, full of care and compassion. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus that then backed right over me again,” you answer truthfully. 

His responding giggle makes your insides feel warm and you can only hope you don’t have the tell tale lovesick look on your face. There’s a moment of quiet contemplation—his chest visibly puffs up and then deflates as he takes a steeling breath. 

“You said some things last night,” he says and you feel your blood run ice cold in your veins. 

You attempt to deflect. “I say a lot of things, Matty. Especially when I’ve gotten into the Tito’s.”

He shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “Last night you said you loved me.”

“Of course I love you, you’re my best friend.” It’s not a lie, not completely anyway. You love him. He’s your best friend. So what if that love you have for him is something a little bit more than friendship? 

He shakes his head again, little ringlets of curls shaking with the motion. “Didn’t sound friendly. You said you needed me.” His voice is rough, tone something heavy. 

“To fix my necklace, Matty. What are you doing?” Your voice in response is a little wild—short clipped sentences spoken in quick succession.  

He appears frustrated. Not necessarily at you, you don’t think, but it’s clear on his face.  “That’s not—You said you wanted to marry me, got down on one knee even. 

“I was drunk, it’s not that deep.” 

He takes the remaining steps toward you, crowding your space and boxing you in with his arms. Yet you know with one word he would back off if you asked. 

You don’t ask. 

“But what if it is? What if I said that I love you too, that I need you too? That the only person who I’ve ever thought about marrying was you?”

“Matty, what are you doing?” you ask lowly, heart pounding so loud you fear he might hear it. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he murmurs and leans in until your lips barely touch. 

It's the invitation you feel you’ve waited a lifetime for. No amount of doubt or hesitation or uncertainty is going to stop you from wrapping yourself around him and deepening the kiss. 

It’s soft and sweet—two decades of buildup, of a beautiful friendship turned something more. It’s you and Matty the way it was always supposed to be—the way it was always going to end up. 

[catscidr]

// what's the difference between scotch and whisky anyways //

i. note — /edit/ i said i would fix the formatting later and Now is later hi hellooo. sorry for not posting, i suddenly couldnt bring myself to write for more than five minutes at a time lmaoa ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) but i hope the dottore enjoyers like this at the very least. rn im working on chapter 3 of fbbts and a darker, separate dottore/reader one shot and a couple of jjk fics if anyone would even be interested in reading them lol. but in the meantime, here's drunken shenanigans ft everyone's favorite war criminal ii. includes — dottore x gn!reader, webttore (beta) and omega cameos. various mentioned harbingers iii. cw — fluff, crack sorta, alcohol stuff, dottore is ooc because he's Not Sober, everyone is clingy. fun stuff yk iv. wc — 3,5k -> ao3 link

It’s a popular stereotype that Snezhnayans are heavy drinkers, but the fact lies within the fatui. They’re shameless; whether it’s showing up to work inebriated or drinking on the job, they’ll hold onto the ‘snezhnayans have a high alcohol tolerance’ stereotype with clenched fists and a bottle at their lips. 

However, that fact only applies to the lackeys—agents that are stationed for hours on end without a break, agents that, at times, need liquid courage to face the horrors that come with the job. The Harbingers are an entirely different case. 

They balance each other, in a way. Where Tartaglia can down three shots of fire water and come out virtually unscathed, Damselette would rather not be caught within a hundred meters of a drop of alcohol. Where The Knave occasionally enjoys a glass of wine in her office, The Balladeer sneers at the choice of drink. 

None came together to go out for drinks, if not because of their job taking up a lot of time out of their days. No, none of the Harbingers were really close enough to let themselves be seen so vulnerable, if one dared drink themselves to the point of being unable to walk in a straight line. 

Thus, there had only been rumors circulating the halls of Zapolyarny palace. Hushed speculations spoken between coworkers, told with an air of excitement. No one has ever seen their Lords in a state other than wholly glorious, so it’s only human nature to wonder just what they would be like if their dignity were knocked down a peg—how they would be if they indulged in simple human vices. 

There are two kinds of Harbingers; ones that lack any rumors about their drinking habits, and ones that are so intriguing that if you were to strike up a conversation with a fatui agent, you would start theorizing about what kind of drunk they’re like before saying hello. Tartaglia and The Knave are part of the former, along with The Rooster and The Fair Lady. The latter consists of (unsurprisingly) The Balladeer, our sweet Damselette, and the two big shots at the top. 

Rumors of The Captain’s drinking habits are usually quite short-lived. People either have too much respect for him to speculate about something as childish as how he acts when he’s had too much to drink, or fear him too much to risk spreading rumors. 

But regarding The Doctor... 

It’s no secret that, even if he is eccentric and has a penchant for unconventional research methods, he has quite the loyal following. Agents will rally to defend him if they hear anyone slandering him, insisting that he’s reasonable and logical. ‘If you simply do your job, you have nothing to worry about’ is what they’d say. 

Although he’s amassed his fair share of fans within the fatui, they’re unlike The Captain’s loyal following; The Doctor’s subordinates are the first to whisper theories about their boss’ drinking habits. He’s only part human now, so maybe alcohol doesn’t affect him the way it does normal people like Tartaglia. Oh, but he seems the type to need to unwind occasionally, so maybe he has a secret stash of wine somewhere in his office? What if, in his free time, he creates various concoctions and cocktails to drink? 

Seeing as he understands science deeper than anyone else, mixology should be a walk in the park for a scientist as lucrative as him. 

Wrong. 

“Shouldn’t you be working?” 

The glare sent your way is nothing short of vicious. There stood in front of you one of his segments, the one with the infamous short fuse. “Why are you here?” 

You internalize the sigh you want to let out, deciding against making him mad when it seems he can’t even stand straight for longer than a few seconds. 

“Lord Pantalone dismissed me early.” You strategically omit why he let you go in the first place. “Where’s Prime?” 

As per anything retaining to Il Dottore, your relationship was unconventional at best. The term closest to what you were, if you wanted to describe said relationship, would be lovers—but... not quite? Still. Neither you nor Dottore cared enough to put a clear label on it, so you’ve resorted to letting people speculate— it can be quite entertaining to listen to people guess while being loud and wrong, anyways. 

You used to work under him as one of his many researchers. When you both started taking your relationship seriously, he threw in the idea of promoting you to being his personal assistant; that way he could (give you special treatment) have someone more competent than his last assistant take care of “menial tasks” like his tedious paperwork. 

You refused the generous offer, insisting that it would be unprofessional to work under him as his partner. After many late-night discussions (and stubborn headbutting of differing opinions) you both have come to an agreement in which you would work for Lord Pantalone as a financial planner. 

(You finally managed to convince him by bringing up how you could, hypothetically, pull some strings on your end in his favor—that you could persuade Pantalone to allot more funding for his research. If he had any shame left, it would have been embarrassing how quickly he shook your hand to accept your conditions.) 

Now, while you spent most of your time in an office in The Regrator’s office building near the Palace, you occasionally came by to drop off documents. Of course, you would use your short trips as an excuse to go see Dottore (even if you could do so at any time anyways, given how much authority he had.) 

However, sometimes you just want to work. 

You’ll leave the comfort of your cubicle to go see him and the extensions of himself, sure, but you still had a job to do. Papers piled up, clients grew impatient, and even your boss wasn’t immune to their nasty attitude whenever he held a meeting with a particularly irritating client. Thus, sometimes you wished you could truly focus, lose track of time and work until your wrist forced you to take a break. 

This wouldn't happen today, clearly. Seeing as one of Dottore’s lackeys rushed to your office to bring you to the Haeresys, you most likely won’t be seeing your desk until further notice. 

Now you were stuck with a cryptic Beta, trying your best to use what little knowledge about the clones’ machinery you managed to wring out of your stubborn lover. 

“Where’s Prime?” You run a hand over your wrinkled coat sleeve, keeping your voice calm and steady. Patient, else you’d be subjected to the segment’s indignation. 

“Dunno.” 

You sigh. Is he a scientist or a child? “You do know. Where is he?” 

“I told you I don’t know!” He throws his hands up, accidentally striking his mask in the way—effectively leaving it to rest at an angle on his face. Most of his mouth showed now, instead of the half you’re used to seeing. And the holes for the eyes don’t quite go where they should... 

Blinking, you take in the sight in front of you while he calms down. His crimson eyes were glassy, and his lips formed a permanent pout, vastly out of character for a segment that supposedly represented The Doctor at the most volatile stage of his life. Azure locks curled around his cheeks, though they were usually tucked out of the way. His clothes were all wrinkled, in a way that left you wondering if you shouldn’t tend to him instead. Dealing with his attitude is annoying, but it’ll be amusing to think about later, I guess. 

“Do you really not know...?” 

“No.” 

“Then, do you know why I was called to the lab?” 

“No. Yes... probably not. Uh,” he crosses his arms over his chest and loses his balance for just a second, “I think I do.” 

You raise an inquisitive brow, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Give me a second.” Beta shuts his eyes, shoulders slumping. His mask was still crooked—you had half a mind to fix it, but held back the twitch in your fingers. After a few seconds he pipes up, uncrossing his arms to reach out to you. 

“Come.” 

The segment grabs your wrist and drags you into the hallways of the Palace, ignoring your yelp of surprise and the stares of various agents lingering in the halls. You pass by ornate statues and paintings, the sight more unfamiliar than not. 

“Beta, where are we-” 

“Hush, I can’t walk when you’re talking my ear off.” 

...Right. Something is definitely wrong. 

After about five minutes of running around like headless chickens you tug your arm back, making Beta turn around indignantly. You lift your hands up in front of you before he can speak. 

“Did you mean to bring me to Lady Signora’s office?” you ask, lips curled up into a small smile seeing his mask still laid crooked on his face. With a gentle hand you fix it, cold fingers grazing his burning cheek. 

“...” 

Beta’s brows furrow as he avoids your gaze, huffing dramatically. Poor guy, you mused. 

“Alright, let’s go to the lab, then. He must be there, right? Where was Prime last time you saw him?” 

“...his office, probably,” he murmurs. 

With a nod and a smile akin to someone doing some gentle parenting, you place a hand on his back and help guide him to Haeresys. The stairs were hard to walk down, but with just a bit of patience and a bit of Beta clutching your arm while shouting that you were trying to assassinate him, you make it down in one piece. 

You remove your gloves and place your palm into the scan, then input the lengthy password to open the laboratory’s large doors. They slide open, revealing the absence of normal researchers and noise. You spot Omega standing over the remains of a ruin machine with a clipboard in his hands and look back towards Beta. 

“Go sit, I’ll go ask Omega about Prime’s whereabouts.” 

The clone nods, trudging his legs along to lay down on the leather couch tucked away in the lab. 

As you put away your large coat and hang it up in the small rack near the doors and make your way towards Omega, you notice the slow rhythm of his handwriting—when he’s usually seemingly speedrunning writing down notes, he’s now leisurely writing away, unaware of your presence. 

“Omega.” 

The latter turns to you, masking his surprise with a small smile instead. “My dear,” he practically purrs, putting away the clipboard in a swift movement, placing the pen in his coat pocket. 

“I was alerted that something was... off, with Prime. Do you know where he is?” 

And where you thought Omega would pick up on Beta’s lack of decorum, you were sorely mistaken. The clone walks up to you with that same smile brightening his features, placing both hands on your shoulders oh so gently. 

“He’s in his office. But enough about him, I haven’t seen you in a while, beloved. Why must you keep me away from you?” he muses, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You tilt your head to avoid being stabbed by his mask’s beak, raising your hands to press against his chest to make some distance. The action proved to be futile, of course. 

We saw each other yesterday, you murmur. “I’m sorry, I’ll get back to you in a moment, alright?” You offer him a warm smile in hopes that he’ll listen, seeing as he seemed to be quite... mushy. 

It works, and he lets you go with a curt nod, retreating to go... somewhere. You didn’t linger around long enough to figure it out, since you knew where to go now. 

Walking across the lab, you note how things seemed to be more out of place than usual. It couldn’t have been a researcher, they always had to clean up after themselves, courtesy of their boss. So, the mess had to be caused by them... 

You finally stand in front of his door, raising a fist to knock. A yelp leaves you as you’re whisked away, the door slamming shut just as quickly as it swung open. 

“Dottor-” 

“Can you fucking believe how inept these agents are? They dare speak to me with such disrespect after delivering the lousiest job I’ve ever seen.” Dottore rambles, pulling you deeper into his office. You observe the state of his workspace, namely the papers scattered onto the ground and the... bottlecap on the floor, right next to his trashcan filled with crumpled up paper...? 

“Showing up in the lab with their damn hands empty save for the half empty bottle of scotch they tried to hide. Idiots were too shitfaced to notice how I noticed.” 

“Okay, Dottore, what are you-” 

He gestures wildly as he speaks, his hands the only way for you to read him as his mask hid most of his features. The blue lines taunt you; though you’re tempted to take it off, you feel like he might just lunge at you if you did. 

“And then they had the gall to insist that the bottle was theirs when I confiscated it.” Dottore pushes you down to sit on the couch, a small oof leaving you in consequence. “Anything that enters this fucking lab belongs to me, I’m the boss, I decide what flies and what does not.” 

Absolutely unaware of your muffled giggles as you piece things together, he keeps ranting, turning his back to you as he stomps away towards his desk. “Not to mention these damn lackeys have had multiple warnings up until now,” he spits out. “Lord Harbinger, we’re sorry! We’ll clean up the lab to make up for this offense! Lord Harbinger, it won’t happen again! Who do they take me for, a moron?!” 

The higher pitch he uses to imitate (and make fun of) the agents almost makes you lose it. But you keep your composure, sitting demurely, listening. 

Dottore comes back with a bottle in hand, orange liquid swirling around the thick glass as he stumbles closer to where you sat. He joins you without warning, creating a dip in the sofa next to you—almost forcing you to lean onto him for support. His free arm drapes over the back as he sighs loudly, making you stifle a laugh behind your hand. 

A pregnant pause stretches between the two of you as his anger simmers down to embers. You lean forward, attempting to take a look at the label on the bottle in his hand. 

“What’re you holding there, love?” you ask sweetly. Glancing up you’re able to steal a peek at his eyes from underneath his dark mask—Archons was he absolutely gone. 

It takes him a second to respond, almost as if he forgot you were even there in the first place. 

“Whisky.” 

“I thought it was scotch.” 

“Same thing.” 

“No it isn’t.” 

“Yes it is.” 

“No it’s n-” 

“It is.” 

Maybe it wasn't the brightest thing to do, messing with him while he’s this inebriated. But it sure was entertaining. 

“Alright. Well, how much did you drink?” 

“A sip or two.” 

As if on cue, he brings the bottle up to his lips and takes a swig. Your grin widens, thoroughly entertained by the show; who else had the privilege of seeing The Doctor so drunk he could barely formulate something that made sense? 

You bring his attention back on you as you place a hand on his knee, leaning close. Dottore immediately snaps into place, gaze flickering down to your lips from the proximity. 

With a swift hand you grab the scotch from his hands, inspecting the amount still left in the bottle. If he said it was half empty when he confiscated it, then... 

“Dearest, did you drink a quarter of this bottle?” You're not even supposed to drink it straight from the bottle, either is what you wished to add, but seeing how defensive he was already, you figured it would just make things more complicated than they needed to be.

As if stung by the Tsaritsa’s delusion, he immediately stiffens and defends himself. “I did not, I told you I only had a sip.” 

The way his bottom lip jutted out was almost cute, if you dared to describe him in such a way. Compliments could wait though; you had answers to seek. 

“Mhm, a sip. Well,” you put the bottle down on a coaster on the coffee table and turn to face him properly, “what happened to the segments? They’re all a little... woozy.” Your fingers trail his arm, tracing circles in their wake. 

Dottore swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he opens his mouth to speak. “We’re connected, albeit loosely. They could be affected by the few sips of scotch I drank, though I would have some work cut out for me if that were the case. I can’t let them be so weak after all.” 

The way he spoke sounded, for lack of better words, pouty. 

Was he... sulking? 

“And since we’re connected, I know you spoke to Beta ‘n Omega earlier.” 

He most definitely is. He's even slurring his words, now...

“Yeah? I was asking them where you were so I could check up on you, baby.” You chuckle softly, taking the liberty of putting his mask away. Bright, glassy red eyes stare down into you, and you hold back the urge to smother his face in kisses. 

“You didn’t have to talk to them, you could have just asked me.” 

“I was looking for you, so I couldn’t have.” 

“Why not?” 

You scoff, smiling as you adjust yourself on the couch. Dottore notices and takes the liberty of pushing you down, laying his head down so his ear is on your chest, cheek pressed up into you. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask you next time,” you respond. 

That satisfies him, enough to render him silent for a handful of seconds before he speaks up again. 

“...I need to get back to work,” he huffs. 

You bring a hand up and run it through his disheveled locks, careful not to tug at the small knots in the hair at the back of his neck. Twirling the hair of his mullet you hum, noting how his weight seemed to grow heavier as the seconds passed. No way is he going to get any work done if he falls asleep here. 

“Take a break, you deserve it. In the meantime, you can think of a suitable way to punish those stupid agents from earlier, right?” 

A quiet hum is all you get in response. You look down expecting to see his unnerving red eyes to be staring up at you, but you’re met with the sight of his features completely lax instead. Azure hair pools around his face, settling on your chest where his face rose in time with your breaths. 

You would have dimmed the lights and turned off his computer if you knew he was going to keep you hostage on the couch. Though you can’t really complain at the turn of events; it’s rare for Dottore to be the one to initiate skinship in the relationship. 

It was quiet, but you managed to hear the low dear? that left his lips. You hum, not wanting to speak as to not break the quiet atmosphere lulling you to a sense of peace. 

After a minute of silence, you decide to repeat yourself—this time a little louder than before. “What is it?” 

Another minute passes, just as quiet as the last. The sound of his slow, deep breaths fills the room, accompanied by the low scratches of your nails on his scalp. His hair parts where your fingers tread through it, and you quietly note that you should trim his hair soon. 

Il Dottore’s poor alcohol tolerance will always be a mystery to the public, because there’s no way you would ever let anyone in on the way he cuddles up to you when he’s had too much to drink. 

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (01)

chapter one: flutter

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genre: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: implied smut, aftercare, mentions of alcohol consumption, hints of oc being a little emotionally constipated lol, barely edited but we should all be used to seeing that from me atp word count: 2.3k note: eeeek my first lino series is here 🥺 there's not much substance in the first part bc we're mostly just setting things up. thank you to my wifeus in the obs server (you know who you are ofc) for being the best cheerleaders, bc i don't think i would've gone through with writing this fic if it wasn't for you. fwb lino probably would've had to gather dust in the attic if you hadn't encouraged me to write him. thank you and love you <3

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Tomorrow when it's over and we're sober I just want to believe that you'll miss me But I shouldn't 'cause we're just friends Now we're day drunk in the back seat of a taxi And you're telling me you wanna kiss me But we shouldn't 'cause we're just friends

Just Friends - Virginia to Vegas

“Minho.”

“Hmm?”

“Get off of me.”

He doesn’t, of course. Because Minho is stubborn and Minho does whatever he wants sometimes. “No,” he mumbles against your neck, pressing a soft kiss there that makes the stupid thing in your chest flutter against your will. You don’t let yourself indulge in the feeling for too long though, only a second. “You’re too warm.”

“Min,” you scold lightly, but you can’t say that you don’t enjoy having his body on yours like this. It’s different than when you’re having sex, because this is more intimate somehow, just him holding you - or rather, resting the entirety of him on top of you like the human version of a weighted blanket. Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am! but with a Minho-esque flare that he doesn’t have to appease you with, but chooses to anyway.

One of the reasons why you don’t let yourself relish in the moment is because intimacy isn’t what you signed up for. In fact, it’s the complete opposite of what you both agreed on. No strings attached - it was the only instruction, plain and simple.

And so you nudge his shoulder again, making him sigh and begrudgingly sit up, in all of his post-sex glory. Disheveled fluffy hair, a couple of fading marks on his neck courtesy of you, kiss-swollen lips and a kind of glow that you’re fairly certain matches your own.

“Hang on,” Minho says, I’ll get you a towel.”

He quickly throws on his boxers - previously discarded on the floor - and heads to your bathroom. He returns to your side just a couple minutes later with said item in hand, dabbing the soft cloth at your core tenderly.

“You okay?” he asks. “I wasn’t too rough on you tonight?”

You like the aftercare, and how tender he always is with you. You’re not sure if that’s the extra effort that he puts in with everyone he’s ever hooked up with, or if you two are just naturally comfortable around each other, but it’s reassuring. It’s nice to know that this agreement between the two of you hasn’t tarnished your friendship.

Yet?

Yet.

“You were perfect,” you tell him with a coy smile. “I was the one who asked for it anyway.”

Minho chuckles, then pats your bare thigh for good measure as he takes one final swipe at your core before chucking the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of your room.

He plops onto your bed again, propping himself on an elbow so he could look down at your face, highlighted only by the dim light of the small lamp on your bedside table. The way that his bicep flexes still puts you in a bit of a trance, even though you’ve seen it probably hundreds of times already.

“You know, I was pretty surprised when you asked me to try that with you,” he says, eyeing your mouth again. “Didn’t think you’d be down for experimenting new things with me.”

“Well, who else am I supposed to try things out with?”

You’re not even sure what you meant - the words just rolled off your tongue - but you don’t miss the instantaneous look of pride on his face. To hear something like that from you is clearly an ego boost for him.

You don’t miss the subtle blush that tints both of his cheeks and the top of his ears either, but you don’t dwell on it for very long.

Come to think of it, you don’t let yourself indulge in a lot of things when you’re around him.

His free hand comes up to draw imaginary patterns along your arm, starting from your shoulder, down to your elbow, then across your forearm until you could feel his fingers on the back of your hand. “I forgot to mention earlier,” he says, tracing what you think is an invisible outline of a heart on your skin. “Hyunjin knows.”

“Knows what?” you ask.

“He knows that we’re hooking up,” Minho tells you, then clarifies when he sees your eyes widening. “Well, he doesn’t know that it’s you. He knows that I’m hooking up with someone.”

You mimic his position, propping yourself up on one elbow so your face is more leveled with his, evidently alarmed at the mention of your friend finding out about a secret that you've been trying to hide for months now.

No, a secret would imply that you have more things you have to conceal. It’s probably more accurate to refer to it as the secret.

Sometimes, even you yourself wonder why this is something you need to hide from everyone. 

It’s not like you’re living in the Victorian era where people are scandalized by the appearance of a bare knee. It’s not like your friends are prudes either; most of them have had their fair share of friends with benefits. It’s all casual, all in good fun.

But maybe it’s because it’s Minho that you’re currently… preoccupied with, that makes you feel less inclined to share with the rest of the group.

If any of them catches wind of this, you know they’ll have loads to say about it, starting with a thorough but well-intentioned lecture from Chan. 

You were good friends before your thing started.

You had a friendship. You had something to lose.

You don’t know why you would even risk it in the first place.

It just happened.

One particularly lonely night. You had some alcohol in your system, and that always made you more sentimental than usual. There was something romantic in the air, or maybe that’s just what you thought looking at everything through the lenses of three glasses of wine. Not drunk, just buzzed enough to be reminded that Minho was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever laid your eyes upon.

But the accumulation of all those factors didn’t matter - couldn’t have mattered - more than the fact that he was there for you.

He listened to you brood over how suffocated you felt, how stagnant your life was, how nothing seemed to be going the way you wanted no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t offer you unsolicited advice, didn’t make you feel silly for moping. He was a soothing presence and that was enough for you.

Sometimes, your friends liked to say that you two would make a good couple because of how compatible you were. Chan once commented that you and Minho were a perfect fit, and that was what kept plaguing your mind moments before you kissed Minho for the first time.

Maybe you’re the missing piece of my puzzle, you had thought back then. My perfect fit.

You had pulled away after a couple of seconds, mortified, but his reaction was immediate. He’d chased after your lips again, no questions asked.

You knew it was a rash decision, spurred on by the heat of the moment and cheap convenience store rosé. Minho was so… goddamn addictive after just one taste that you couldn’t resist anymore. Having him felt like you finally had a taste of water after spending years deprived.

Needless to say, he ended up in your bed that night. The rest is… well, it doesn’t take a genius to deduce the subsequent series of events that led you here.

“Elaborate,” you say with an arch of your eyebrow.

“You texted when he was hanging out at my place and I was in the bathroom.” Minho shrugs. “That nosy little thing. He scrolled through quite a bit of our texts too.”

You frown. “He read our texts but he doesn’t know it’s me?”

“I don’t have you saved as your name.”

“Then what do you have me saved as?”

Up until now, you never even thought about this, and you’ve always just assumed that you’re in his contacts under your name, like he is in your list. Well, technically you have him saved as ‘Min’, but anyone who comes across it could still easily identify who you’re referring to.

Minho purses his lips, contemplating for a minute before he ultimately decides to withhold this information from you. He gives you a teasing smile, another shrug, before saying, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out when the time comes.”

“I don’t get to know what my own name is in your phone? Even Hyunjin knows, apparently.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know it’s you, so what does he really even know?”

“But I have a right-”

“Shhh.” Then he’s leaning forward to shush you with a quick kiss to your lips. It does the job, because you shut right the hell up. It surprises you every time he kisses you when you’re not in the middle of sex. Moments like these are rare, but you’re always rendered speechless by how casually he does it, how familiar the simple action is even when it shouldn’t be, and most of all, you’re dumbstruck by just how right it feels.

“Am I gonna see you before Yeonjun’s party on Saturday?” he asks, like nothing even happened. Your lips are tingling from a simple peck. It’s so silly, considering how just half an hour ago, he was literally inside of you, pounding you into oblivion until you had tears streaming down your face. Until you were crying out his name like it was the only word you’d ever known.

You quickly regain your composure. “I don’t know, maybe. I have a final paper to finish so I’ll probably be holed up here or at the library,” you tell him. “Maybe we’ll catch each other on campus. But if not, then, yeah, I’ll see you at the party.”

Minho seems disappointed, evident from his immediate and adorable pout. 

“It’s just a few days.” You roll your eyes harmlessly, lying back down again to snuggle into your pillow. “You’ll live.”

“Will I?” he grumbles. “What am I supposed to do for four whole days?”

“Don’t you have your finals too?”

“All presentations and papers. Finished the last one today.”

“Oh,” you say, mildly impressed by the fact. You always forget how studious he actually is. “Internships?”

“Already sent in my applications.”

“Changbin says you’ve been talking to that girl Hana in your class.”

You don’t know why you brought it up. You don’t even like hearing the words coming out of your own mouth.

Minho makes a face, almost like he’s taken aback that Changbin would even tell you that. “Because we’re in the same group for our final presentation,” he informs you.

“She seems nice, from what I’ve heard about her. Seems like she has a big fat crush on you too.”

“Not to sound mean, but I don’t really care about that.”

A feeling blooms in the pit of your stomach, a feeling that you cannot and will not give a name to. There’s just something about the way he said it, steadfast, without any hesitation.

“It does make you sound a bit mean,” you tell him.

“I’m just not interested in her.”

“I don’t want to hold up the Minho train if there are other options out there that you want to explore.”

Do you mean it? Yes and no. Part of you wants to be nosy and prod until he fesses up about a potential love interest in his life - if there even is one - so that you could be a good friend that tell him to just go for it, but your curiosity is eclipsed by your selfishness, because you realize that you don’t really want to know if it means the end of this.

Are you being a hypocrite?

Yeah, probably.

He bites his bottom lip as if in thought, just briefly, before he rolls over to lie on his back, staring up at your boring ceiling. “I told you, I don’t care. I’m not interested in any other girl,” he says.

Realistically, you know there will be a finale. It’s only inevitable. One day, he’ll get a girlfriend, or you’ll get a boyfriend - the former seems more likely than the latter - and this arrangement between the two of you will have run its course. Null and void.

It’s part of the reason why you never let yourself relish in him, because you will only be thoroughly disappointed when he gets taken away from you.

As if he’s ever been yours to begin with.

You’ve never belonged to him either.

Neither of you owes the other anything at all.

You blink away the dazed look in your eyes, humming a noncommittal noise in irresolute agreement, before reaching for your phone to check the time. It’s not that late, half an hour shy of midnight, and his place isn’t that long a walk from yours. You know full well that it isn’t much of an excuse, and yet…

“It’s late.”

“Can’t I stay over?” He turns his head to look at you. “I’ll be good. I’ll just sleep next to you.”

“No can do,” you say. “I have a class at 10AM.”

“Me too. I can walk you to campus,” he insists.

There’s something unspoken in his gaze that you can sense but can’t translate. It’s been happening more often lately - you not being able to read him as easily as you could before. You have to admit that it makes you a little unsettled. The unknown that swims in the dark sepia of his eyes.

But maybe you’re overthinking this. Maybe you’re making something out of absolutely nothing.

“Go home, Minho,” you decide, leaving him no room to protest. The instant kicked puppy look on his face makes you feel a little bad, thus prompting you to continue, “I’ll try to see you on campus, okay?”

He looks at you for another moment before he sits up unwillingly. It seems like he has something else to say - something other than a butthurt comment about being bored out of his mind over the next few days - but in the end, he gives up. You notice the way his shoulders slightly slump as he exhales, “Okay.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 27.11.2023]

[hsyki]

The Storm Between Us – L.HS

SYNOPSIS: heeseung was on the table getting wasted in front of you, drinking shots after shots. you were starting to wonder whether he was getting drunk to avoid you or just wanted to get drunk so he doesn’t have to be with you sober. you’ve sweethearts for years but you never thought the relationship could get this dry. this has been going on for over a month and you’re starting to overthink…does he still love you?…

PAIRINGS: fem!reader x boyfriend!heeseung

GENRE: romance, drama, collage, angst au

WARNING(s): swearing, alcohol, shouting and maybe a bit violent or upfront

WC: 1,1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my very first au and it is not proof read nor planned beforehand, it was just a quick scenario I wanted to write because of an edit I saw of heeseung and got inspired to write this. I was also inspired to write because of @jaylver (their writing is so amazing). I hope you enjoy and please let me know if there’s anything I can improve. please leave your opinions, comments or recommendations as well (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

thank you for reading and please enjoyy~~~

Heeseung had been distant for weeks, and you could feel the space between you growing wider by the day. Late-night texts that once flowed freely had dwindled to short, clipped responses. The warmth in his voice during your calls had chilled, replaced by a coldness that made your heart ache. He was pulling away, and no matter how hard you tried to reach him, he was slipping through your fingers like sand.

The arguments had started small—disagreements over trivial things that escalated into something much bigger. The frustration in his eyes whenever you tried to talk about your relationship had become a familiar sight, and his patience with you seemed to run thinner each day. You could feel him putting up walls, closing off parts of himself that you once had access to.

It all came to a head one night when you finally gathered the courage to confront him. You needed to know where you stood, whether he still wanted to be with you or if he was already halfway out the door.

The tension in the air was thick as you sat across from him. He’s drunk a few shots of alcohol already, making him a but tipsy, but still conscious enough to stay somewhat sober. The weather was already stormy and heavy out, let alone being so dark and late at night. Your hands trembling slightly as you spoke.

“Heeseung, I can’t keep pretending everything is okay. I need to know if you still want this… if you still want us.”

Heeseung avoided your gaze, his eyes fixed on the empty glass in front of him. The silence between you stretched on, heavy and oppressive. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost distant.

“I don’t know, okay? I just… I don’t know.”

The uncertainty in his words stung more than you expected. You’d prepared yourself for the possibility that he didn’t love you anymore, but hearing it—hearing the doubt in his voice—felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“After everything we’ve been through, how can you not know?” you demanded, your voice wavering with emotion. “I’ve given you everything, Heeseung. I’ve loved you with everything I have. How can you stand there and tell me you don’t know if you want this anymore?”

Heeseung finally looked up at you, and the pain in his eyes mirrored your own. But instead of reaching out, instead of closing the gap between you, he shook his head.

“Maybe… maybe that’s the problem,” he said softly. “Maybe we’re just not right for each other. Maybe we’ve been forcing something that was never meant to be.”

His words felt like a punch to the gut. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, as if everything you thought was solid was crumbling away. You wanted to scream, to cry, to make him see how much he meant to you, but the exhaustion in his expression held you back. He looked like he’d already given up, like he’d already made his decision, and that realization shattered something inside you.

For a moment, you sat there in stunned silence, the weight of his words pressing down on you. When you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“So, what now? Are we just… done?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, and he looked away again, unable to meet your eyes. “Maybe we should take some time apart. Maybe we need to figure out who we are without each other.”

You felt your heart drop at his suggestion, the finality of it hitting you like a ton of bricks. But before you could respond, he stood up abruptly, knocking over the glass on the table. The alcohol spilled out, spreading across the surface like the mess your relationship had become.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. Heeseung slams his hands on the table, sending the shots of alcohol spilling over the edge. He stands up abruptly, trying to regain his composure. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and sadness.

“We’re not for each other, and you know it.”His voice is rough with anger, but beneath it, you can hear the pain. You’ve known him long enough to catch the tremor in his words, the way his hurt bleeds through his fury.

He storms toward the door, yanking it open. You knew in this moment that you both were too vulnerable to fix this, neither were you both in the place to think clearly. You took no chance but to chase after him. Whether there was a solution or not, you didn’t want to give up on him, knowing deep down he’s bad for you and it would be better to let go.

You stormed off with him, watching as the rain soaks through his clothes, drenching his figure in the downpour.

“Heeseung, stop!”

“Stay inside!” he shouts back, not bothering to turn around. His fists are clenched, his jaw tight.

“Why can’t you love me the way I love you, even if it’s just for one second?”

Your voice cracks, your heart heavy as the storm above.

Heeseung slows to a stop, turning on his heels to face you. The dim streetlight casts a glow over him, illuminating the rain-soaked fabric of his white shirt, clinging to his body.

“How am I supposed to give you something I don’t feel?”

His face twists with grief, but you can’t believe it. You refuse to believe it.

“You’ve felt it before—you can feel it again. Just this once… please…”

“Maybe you’re numb. Maybe you just imagined it. I never loved you,”

he says, his tone cutting like a blade. The coldness in his voice slices through you, making you ache for him even more.

“You have…”

The two of you stand in silence, the rain and thunder filling the void between you. You watch as droplets slide down his lips, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“That couldn’t have been me,” he says, his voice icy. “I never loved you… and I never will.” He turns away again, heading back into the storm.

Desperation drives you forward. You can’t let it end like this—not when your love for him is so strong, even if it feels like you’re falling apart inside. You grab his wrist and pull him back, crashing your lips into his before he can react. Your hands tangle in his wet hair as you kiss him, tasting the rain and the salt of your tears. Heeseung hesitates for just a moment before he’s kissing you back, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight. He’s breathless, as hungry for you as you are for him. The kiss is long and fierce, a battle of need and desperation. In this moment, you both need each other more than anything else.

© hsyki 2024 reserved post.

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18 +

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing and spit balling ideas and giving feedback.

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spit balling ideas and fueling my ego &lt;3

I have no idea where this story or be without either of you girls. Or me, for that matter.

Word count: 16.6k

Warnings: Degradation/praise, light use of sir without any discussion, light hunter/prey play, crying while fucking (eddie), and a whole steddie story at the start. Lots of talk of their future in this part.

Author's note: When I say I am blown away by the reception of this fanfic, wholeheartedly mean it. Any word of kindness you have given just fueled the fire in me. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and exploring where the story will take us.

Due to some worry in the comments from last part I will clear this up: Neither Eddie nor Reader will be cheating, they're it for one another. Steve is here as a long time friend, someone with a wife and kids at home.

That being said, thank you so much, I really do appreciate it.

edit: somehow the first paragraph was missing? all fixed.

About 26/27 Years Ago:

At the failure of both their university careers, Steve and Eddie both dropped out within weeks of one another. This was unplanned, neither one of them knowing as they went back to Hawkins to a mini reunion. They agreed to meet one another for a drink, just the two of them, where Steve kindly asked how Eddie’s schooling was going, to which Eddie answered sheepishly that he had dropped out. Steve let out a bark of laughter, laughing through his response that he had also dropped out.

The mutual sigh of relief waved over them both, the two of them grateful they wouldn’t be receiving that same damn look of pity again. Their conversation then flowed into ease; the embarrassment was no longer there for either of them. Since they both dropped out, they each had found a dead-end job to make their ends meet while they figured out their next move.

Simply, they were at the exact same spot in life. This would be reoccurring for them over the next few years, finding their wives within the same six-month span, and both Arlo and Dylan being born within a year of one another. It’s no wonder why they became so close.

Steve had a crazy idea in their third hour in the bar booth, a little bit buzzed. “Dude. We should go to Vegas.”

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows, completely thrown off by the suggestion. “What?”

“C’mon, Vegas! Our jobs both suck, and we’re the only ones who actually understand each-other’s shituations.”

Eddie sighed and took another sip of his beer. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“When?”

“Now!”

Eddie nearly spit out his beer, looking at Steve like he was crazy. “Now?”

“Dude. I still have my parents’ credit cards. They’re too lazy to actually cut me off.” Steve’s words were a bit slurred, holding up the many black cards.

Eddie downed his beer; the financials were his number one reason not to go. If this was gonna be on the Harrington’s dime, you best believe he would take full advantage of his friend’s shitty parents’ money.

Halfway through their first bus, Steve and Eddie started to sober up and wondered if it was a good idea. Too late, they were already four hours away. It took a total of 31 hours of driving on the road and about six different buses, but they finally made it to Nevada with nothing but the shirts on their backs and delirious glee.

The first two days they spent gambling and shooting the shit, both nights staring up at the bodies of women with numerous dollar bills in string thongs. (Eddie will omit this part when he tells it to you, for your own sanity’s sake.) On the third night, as Steve was a bit more drunk than the previous two, Eddie found a strong ass strain of weed on the strip and was a bit stoned. One of them managed to convince the other that finding girls to hook up with was the good idea.

They both went on with their night, keeping an eye out for any girl they could prospect. Even with a few conversations with some girls, they both came up short. Hooking up with women who were also running away from their problems was a bad idea.

Steve found a girl, but soon realized she was a dud when she made fun of Eddie’s bandana wrapped around his head. Eddie came up to Steve as she rolled her eyes and stomped off. Jesus. As he rested on the bar, he noticed something he wondered if he had imagined the whole three days they were there. Eddie’s eyes lingered on him, checking him out not-so-subtly. Steve leered on Eddie’s soft pink lips for too long for Steve to confidently tell himself he was not interested. His eyes raked down Eddie, taking in everything, subconsciously licking his lips. Having these thoughts, he realized Eddie was talking to him the entire time and he didn’t take in a single word.

“Well, that was a bust. C’mon. Let’s go get our sleep, we’re spending the next two days bussing home.” Steve yanked Eddie by the sleeve of the gift shop shirt he got up to the hotel elevator.

Eddie wandered into the bathroom when they got to their room and when he came out, he saw Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, legs out and leant back on straight arms. Eddie chuckled nervously. As dorky as it was, Steve looked fantastic in the makeshift gift shop outfit he had gotten himself.

“Steve?” He asked, hesitantly walking towards him.

An uncontrollable huff of laughter left Steve’s mouth, he stood up to face Eddie, accidentally meeting him only inches away from his face. It was a flicker. Only a flicker. A flicker of Eddie’s eyes looking directly to Steve’s lips, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. “You know, Eddie. If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, the panic in his face was clear. “I-I…” He stuttered, his breathing picked up exponentially in the last two minutes and the air in the hotel room was thick.

Steve gently placed one hand on Eddie’s cheek bone, slowly caressing it as to calm the nerves he could tell were radiating off Eddie. He smiled, glancing down very obviously to Eddie’s mouth to ask for permission. Eddie nodded the tiniest goddamn nod in the world and nearly blacked out when Steve’s lips came rushing for his own.

When their lips met, Eddie moaned into it, moving to someone’s bed, he couldn’t tell nor did he care which, and let Steve fall on top of him.

The kisses were messy, clothes were thrown all over the hotel room, and the sex was rough and giggly, but desperate.

And only one time, they decided as they woke up on opposite sides of the bed, laughing at the sheer absurdity that filled the air as they were both wrapped in white sheets.

-

“Uh, Eddie? It’s for you… his name is Steve Harrington?” Eddie pauses, in the middle of hanging a sweater in what seems to be the designated spot for knitwear. A quick assessment tells you that you now have more sweaters than you need, observing them all hung delicately by his hands.

“No way.” Eddie mutters, a smile slowly creeping up on his face. He jogs right past you to the hallway and down the stairs, the quick thumping of his feet loud in the silence of the house.

Your brain takes a moment to catch up to you, following Eddie’s lead back down the stairs. As the front entrance comes into view halfway down the stairs, you see the two men wrapped up in a genuine embrace, arms flexed as they hug one another. They separate, but not by much, maintaining only a few feet between them.

“You didn’t tell me when you were coming!” Eddie accuses playfully, patting Steve on his shoulder.

Steve’s hands are on his hips, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I ended up coming 2 weeks early.”

“No shit, hey?” Eddie leans back, crossing his arms.

They fall into a conversation so easily that their comfort with one another radiates off them. You would be offended Eddie hasn’t introduced you to him yet if it weren’t for their entertaining back and forth with one another.

“How long have you two known each other?” You mistakenly interrupt them, cutting off the conversation.

“Uh, since high school.” Eddie answers, elbowing Steve.

Steve’s eyes widen deliriously, jerking back at the neck. “Uh, try Jr. High.” He laughs. “Eddie here was the new kid.” He seems to laugh at the memory of young Eddie. Man, you’ll need photographic proof. “The weird-o new kid.”

“Oh, sorry my mom abandoned me, Steve.” Eddie laughs, not a lick of remorse behind it. You gulp, your heartstrings pulled at his throwaway comment.

“Abandonment issues can forgive weirdness only for so long, Eddie.”

“Yeah, but I got it renewed fifteen years ago. Didn’t even have to ask, she just did it for me.”

There’s a moment of silence until they break into laughter, poking fun at one another.

“I’m so sorry, who’s this?” Steve gestures to you, walking over to where you’re standing by the stairs.

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” You hold your hand out to him, somewhat nervous to be meeting someone who’s known Eddie for so long. Decades long before you were even born.

Steve’s hand meets yours and shakes it gracefully, his kind chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. “He paying you well?”  You’re not sure how to answer this, your hand still holding Steve’s as you and Eddie give another a look of confusion. “Oh, sorry. You must be Dylan’s girlfriend! Where is he off to, anyway?” Steve lets go of your hand.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember I told you I was seeing someone?” You smile to yourself under the mere indication that Eddie talked to someone about you.

Steve nods, remembering the life in Eddie’s voice when he called. “Yep.”

Eddie points to you, gesturing multiple times until Steve finally gets the hint. “Oh…oh. Oh!” Steve’s hands move back to his hips, his eyes switching back and forth between you and Eddie quickly. “But she’s a child.” Steve deadpans, pointing to you and furrowing his brows at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, placing his arm around you as Steve takes it in. You’re slightly offended on your own behalf at the prospect of being called a child. Eddie places a kiss on your temple to ease the tension, making you melt into it. “No, she’s not.”

You tilt your head back at Eddie, giving him a sleepy smile, eyes half closed. He kisses you as if to put the final nail in the coffin in any disbelief Steve might’ve had. You breathe deeply as he pulls away, and goddamn, did you have a long day today.

“Wait until Robin hears you’re dating someone half your age.” Steve muses, shaking his head. “She’s gonna have a field day.”

“Wait till she hears we’re already shacked up.” Eddie jokes, bringing you to the couch and therefore leading Steve as well.

As you sit down on the couch, you cuddle into him, head laying down on his chest. Steve asks how his shop is doing, to which Eddie gives the run down on the nicest cars he’s seen and a customer’s hunk of junk he couldn’t believe was still driving around. Steve explains the logistics of his job, and by the tone of Eddie’s voice, you could tell he had no idea any of what Steve was saying, but he was being supportive in tone, nonetheless.

“How are the kids?” Eddie asks, and you watch as Steve’s eyes light up in response.

“Oh, they’re great.”

“How old are they?” You ask, a tad curious.

“Uh, Arlo is 24, Nick is 17, Dustin is 15, and Eliza is 4.” Steve riles off, letting his head fall back on the couch. Damn, he sure didn’t look like a dad of four.

“Is Eliza 4 already?” Eddie asks, shaking his head.

“Sure is.” Steve answers, bringing out his phone. He unlocks it, and presumably goes into his photos until passing it over to you and Eddie. “Here. This was from yesterday.”

“Awww.” You let out, seeing the image of a little girl with Steve’s curls playing on a water mat.

“Oh, aww” Eddie lets out, laughing through it. Eliza is adorable, that much is clear. But as you look up at Eddie scrolling through a few of the photos of Eliza playing in the water, the hearts in his eyes are undeniable. He laughs softly at them, as if he can’t get enough of any of the photos. As Eddie passes the photos with his praises of Eliza, a stirring gut feeling sits there, a feeling you’ve been proud that you’ve been able to hold off with Eddie already having a grown child.

Goddamn, you wanted to have this man’s babies. Or at least, baby. The idea of him looking this sweetly at a child you made together invades your heart and makes you squirm on his chest a bit. You lean off his chest, afraid of these strong feelings of wanting this much of a future with him; it was a little scary. “I’m sleepy. Been a long day, I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Alright, here.” He gets up with you, taking your hand and walking you around the couch. “Be right back, Steve.”

Eddie goes up the stairs to your room, escorting you to your now shared bed. Last week it had dark grey sheets. Now it has your favourite yellow daisy-themed sheets that Eddie insisted upon using. You lie down, still thinking of the way his eyes lit up and the smile that took over his face from the pictures. It made something stir in you. You were exhausted from your long day, that was no lie, but needed the excuse to leave before you did something crazy.

Like riding him on the couch. (And begging for his babies)

“Have a good sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” He kisses your forehead, soft and sweet. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You mutter through your breath, eyes already closing.

-

You’re already fast asleep by the time Eddie closes the door. As he reaches the bottom of the steps, Steve looks up at him expectantly, his brow slightly furrowed. He’s concerned, and to be fair, he has a reason to be. “So, we’re dating 20-year-olds, now?”

Eddie bites his tongue from correcting your age. “I guess you could say that.”

“What is this, some sort of midlife crisis? Get a red sports car, not someone who beats my oldest by months, hell your kid by months. I mean, come on, man. Use your brain.” Steve taps his shoulder on the last sentence, surely thinking he’s putting Eddie’s head back on right. However, Eddie just sits through the lecture without defending himself so he can say his piece when the time comes. “I-I mean where did you even find her, on her way to school?”

The front door slams. Dylan’s home. “Dad, am I tripping or is Uncle Steve’s car out front—Hey!” He cuts himself off, jogging toward them as soon as he sees Steve on the couch. Steve stands up to give him a tight hug, having known Dylan since the day he was born. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came by for a visit, turns out your dad’s having a midlife crisis.”

Dylan’s brows pinch together as he glances around Steve to Eddie for clarification. Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pretending not to know a single thing Steve was talking about. “What, did he get a sports car or something? He says they look pretty but they’re not made to last.”

“No, no. I was talking about his pretty new girlfriend.” The pang of possessiveness that hits Eddie in the chest is unprecedented for Steve just calling you pretty.

Dylan hardly holds in his laughter, walking into the kitchen before a full-on laugh escapes his throat. Steve stares off at him, glancing at Eddie and clearly asking, what the hell is wrong with that boy? Dylan makes himself calm down, coming back into the living room with a shit eating grin on his face. “So did he tell you how they met?”

“N-no.” Steve hesitates based on the grin on his face.

“He hasn’t let me get that far, yet.” Eddie chimes in, looking a little cozy as he settles into the couch. You were right, it has been a long ass day.

“I’m gonna tell him.” It wasn’t a threat per se, Dylan just wanted to watch the panic in his dad’s eyes.

Eddie lifts his head off the back pillow of the couch, having been looking up at the ceiling. “He’s gonna find out eventually. I was just gonna wait until she woke up.”

“Tell me…what?” Steve asks, tired of watching Eddie and Dylan’s back and forth.

Dylan gives one last chuckle, the laughter telling Eddie it’s not something he’s very bitter about anymore. They still haven’t talked about it; he’s been waiting for Dylan to come to him. “She was my girlfriend, first.” Dylan says through a smirk. “She cheated on me. With dad.”

Steve processes it, both Dylan and Eddie can see the hamster wheel turning in his head. He looks back and forth between Dylan and Eddie, his eyes staying on either one for a moment. His eyes don’t blink the entire time, switching back and forth for a solid minute.

“Dude!” Steve finally says, landing on Eddie. “What the fuck happened, Ed?”

Dylan continues laughing, walking over to his dad. “Yeah dad, what happened?”

Eddie lets his head fall back on the pillows again, closing his eyes for a brief second. “Well, I tried to keep my distance…she did not.” Shit, that’s putting all the blame on you. “I wasn’t strong enough to tell her to break up with Dylan, first. Felt like I was seventeen years old, hormones just raging to a point where I couldn’t think straight with her right there.” He gets up from the couch, walking up to his closest friend of 30+ years. “She’s not just some 25-year-old, Steve. This girl, Steve, she’s everything, and somehow, she’s convinced that she’s the lucky one.”

When his dad spews cheesy shit like this it certainly softens the blow. Feels funny that he ever dated you in the first place at times.

Steve seems to miss the fact that Dylan has gotten almost completely over it by now. “That’s all good and nice, but I think you’re missing the fact that you stole your son’s girlfriend?”

Dylan lets out another laugh, wishing Steve was here when everything went down. That would’ve been a show. “Listen, Uncle Steve. I appreciate you standing up for me, truly, I do. If you were here three weeks ago when they fucked in my truck, then that would’ve been…just great.”

“You fucked in his tru—”

Dylan cuts him off, “But honestly, I didn’t date her for very long. If anything, I had only begun to develop some deeper feelings for her, but these two had it right away. They’re good together. I wish they could’ve just told me their feelings and then slept together, but with Maya…if she was dating one of my boys I would’ve done the same thing.”

Steve’s hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, seeing the truth in his statement. “Well, you’ll have to tell me about Maya, then.” He turns back to Eddie, a pinch appearing back between his brows. “But seriously, you fucked in his truck? What kind of sicko are you?”

“His was unlocked. He knows better.” Eddie shrugs, Steve rolls his eyes fondly.

“Good god, man.”

“I was actually just here to grab something, but I’ll see you for supper?” Dylan shoots, mid stride towards the stairs.

“We’re eating out, be back by 8:30.” Steve calls up, and Dylan waves his hand in acknowledgement.

“We are?” Eddie asks, sitting back on the couch.

“Oh yeah, Munson.” He sits on the cushion beside him, leaning onto his knees. “But tell me about her. Sorry I just assumed…but Robin will absolutely be calling you to rip your head off.”

“Or…she can find out in person one day.”

“Like at your wedding?” Steve teases, but lets out a burst of laughter when the blush appears on his cheeks. “Seriously, you hear wedding bells?”

“I’m not getting any younger, dude. But my hormones are, man, she has me doing multiple rounds, sometimes more than one a day!” Steve’s eyes widen, intrigued by this. “I haven’t fucked like this since my 20s.” Eddie pauses, thinking about his sex life back then. “I’m not even sure I fucked like this in my 20’s, to be honest.”

Steve lets out a laugh, shoving Eddie for good measure. Of course, being men, they both skip over the fact that yes, Eddie has had wedding bells in his head enough to start looking at rings…and go for the sex talk.

“Okay, sex aside. Tell me about her.”

It takes only five minutes of Steve listening to Eddie ramble on about you to realize it absolutely was the real deal. No mid-life crises here. Eddie seemed calm and laxed, whereas his ex always made him wired. For the record, Steve never quite liked her. She had Eddie looking like a wet chihuahua, yapping at every drop of a hat. Steve was a little relieved when she left, ‘cause no one could convince Eddie she was not good for him.

Turns out he just needed to wait a few years. 15, in fact.

-

You wake up to the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your cheek, carefully petting you as he places gentle kisses on your lips. “Baby.” He mumbles, causing you to stir. “Baby, wake up.”

As you start to wake up, you become increasingly aware that he was lying right behind you. “Mmm.”

“C’mon, we’re going out for supper with Steve, you have to get up.”  

Still reeling from the dream that you were just ripped out of, you arch your back slightly, grinding your ass against Eddie’s instantly-hardening cock. You hear a sharp inhale, Eddie’s grip on your hip intensifying. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but we literally don’t have time.” Eddie comments, his forehead falling onto the back of your head in an act of self discipline.

You frown, giving a good hip swivel. “We always have time.”

“Not today, you don’t! Get up!” You pop awake, aware of Steve’s presence in the hallway as he overshadows Eddie, waking you up more fully.

“He knows me enough to know I’d try to sneak something in.” Eddie murmurs, as not to be heard.

You turn around in your bed, now lying face to face with him, a devious smile creeping on your face. “So, sneak something in.”

Eddie’s brows lift at your suggestive tone. “Fuck.” He mutters, crawling out of bed before you could give his neck one of those licks that just melts him into a puddle. “C’mon baby. Get all dressed up, meet you downstairs by 8:30.”

Your teeth grit together, grabbing your phone that was tossed haphazardly aside when you fell asleep. The screen illuminates itself and your eyes widen when you realize you only have…fifteen minutes to get ready. Well, why didn’t he just say that?

You rush into your closet, and for the first time, the amount of clothes you now own settles in. How the fuck are you ever getting ready ever again? You go to the dresses, skimming through the more family friendly options. You trail  over each hanger one at a time until you reach the right one. Some light makeup is done, a five-minute routine.

You finally reach the bottom step at 8:29 pm, all the guys sitting on the couch watching the tv. “Ready!”

Eddie glances at you and breaks into a smirk. “You look great, sweetheart.”

Your face heats up as you find a pair of shoes that won’t make you hate yourself. You smile, recalling your afternoon in the crowded dressing room. “Thanks, Ed.”

Meanwhile, Steve takes only two seconds as he witnesses this interaction to realize. “No. Go change.”

“W-what?” You stutter, not used to Steve’s blunt stature.

“I-just-just go change. I don’t need to be watching this all night!”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, kicking your shoe off to put on a dress that Eddie didn’t salivate over that very afternoon.

“Wait, what? What was wrong with the dress?” Dylan asks Steve, not having a clue as to what just transpired.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Hey, Dyl, you remember that green little dress that she had?” Eddie asks, recalling it on his carpeted floor earlier that day before he burned it.

Dylan smiles, then recalls what was so special about the dress. “Oh.” He mumbles, now feeling uncomfortable.

“I think she’s overwhelmed with choices, which is why she picked the dress in the first place. I’ll go help. Meet you there.”

-

Steve put up a fight on just meeting you there, but one on one time with his boy is something he wouldn’t pass up. Especially when he talks about a girl the way he did about Maya.

Eddie didn’t give Steve much of an option, still trying to get rid of the hard on that he had. He bursts through the bedroom and closet door, and as he does so, the front door slams shut. Eddie walks in to you staring aimlessly in your underwear at the dresses, not knowing which one to put on. Eddie comes from behind you, placing his stubbly chin onto your shoulder. “What’s up, baby?” He asks, casually drifting your underwear down your legs.  

You sigh, the trail of his fingertips sending shivers up your spine. “You got me too many dresses.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie says, you hear and feel behind you as he lets his own pants drop. “Bend a little bit.” He whispers as you feel his hard cock against your ass.

You do, lifting your ass up at an angle where he can slide right into your folds. He does, arms drifting below your torso and up to play with your tits as he fucks you from behind.

“I got the perfect amount for my sweet baby.” He mutters into your ear, both his hands doing things to your tits that make you whimper. “Love to spoil my beautiful girl.”

“Fuck, daddy.” You whine, your heat already so goddamn hot. “Help. Can’t decide on a dress.”

“Here.” Ed pauses, causing you to whine, but puts a dress in front of you. “Wear this one for daddy.”

“O-ok.” You stutter, barely paying attention to it. “Love you, daddy.”

“I love you,” he kisses your neck, wet and sweet, “so much, pretty baby.” You turn your head to face him, leaning in for a delicate kiss, your pussy clenching around him as you do.

You lean onto the white walls separating each compartment of the closet, closing your eyes as he fucks into you. “Daddy,” you whine, and he pulls your hair gently in response, bringing your head back to his.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re so good to me, I’m so-so close.” You pant, giving him lustful eyes.

“Cum with me,” Eddie mutters, having been close himself a few times. He leans down, rubbing at your clit. You cum around him hard, yelling his name.

He catches your lips in a kiss when he cums, so you have no idea what he said.

He lets you catch your breath, wrapping his arms around you protectively until you let him know you’re okay. “Thank you, baby.”

“Oh that was just a spur of the moment, I just got lucky.” He jokes, bringing up the dress to you to get redressed.

“You think Steve—”

“Oh, I guarantee Steve already knows.” Eddie interrupts your worry, that Steve knew you were hooking up. “Just had to be sneaky.”

You put yourself in the dress, staring at it in the mirror. Okay, Eddie is seriously good at picking things that fit you well. Damn. “Let’s go baby.”

“Fuck, with you in that dress I’ll be gunning for round two all night.”

“Then we better go so we can come back and do it!” You assert playfully.

“Fuck, I love you.”

-

As you and Eddie sit down at the table where your ice cubes are already melted with the water droplets making a pool on the table, Steve doesn’t say a word, but the look he gives says enough. If he’s your boyfriend’s best friend, how come he already has the ability to make you feel like you had disappointed him?

The restaurant is a steakhouse, something worth dressing up for, but not like the one Eddie took you to. Steve managed to talk about all his kids, describing each one of the four and their distinct personalities to you.

Arlo is apparently a near carbon copy of his father, only differing on a few personality quirks here and there. He was in every sense of the word the eldest Harrington, making a reputation for the Harrington children to live up to at the daycare, elementary school and finally, but most importantly, high school.  Considering Steve raised his kids in Hawkins, Arlo knew the expectations for him and met them, tenfold. Steve never says it, but you can tell he’s so proud of how cool his kid turned out to be. Apparently, though they were closest in age, Dylan was closer to Nicky than to Arlo.

Nicky was the middle child for most of his life. He still considers himself to be, despite getting a younger sister four years ago. He had found himself gravitating towards the arts, and Steve found himself with a kid who spent his early mornings watching broadway bootlegs and collecting song books. This turned him into somewhat of a ladies’ man like Arlo, his baritone vibrato beautifully toned as he starred in most of his school musicals. Someday, Arlo wants to enroll in a drama school, and Steve still isn’t sure how he feels about it.

Dustin is the third child, and for a while, the baby. It’s explained to you that Dustin is named after a mutual friend, someone younger than both Eddie and Steve, someone they took under their wing and mutually adopted. When Dustin’s name was announced, Steve and his wife made sure he was in the room, so for the first hour of Dustin Harrington’s life, he was unnamed. Tears streamed down Dustin’s, (the original), face when he realized that Steve had named his child after him. Immediately, Dustin was his. Because of Dustin Henderson, Dustin Harrington is a complete dork. He’s completely invested in Star Wars, has built his own Magic the Gathering deck, used to spend weekends on Skype for DnD sessions with Uncle Eddie, and has even been to a convention or two.

Basically, none of his boys were the same.

You resented little Eliza coming up in conversation, only for the sake of her photos enticing some sick and cruel twist of fate.

Eliza, however, is the apple of everyone’s eye, and the darling of the Harrington family. She’s a handful, to say the least, a stubborn personality and even worse temperament. Steve swears he thought her toddler years were a handful; until she reached the independent thinking stage. Now, she wants everything, but she never wants help. Her three brothers are fiercely protective of her, each in their own ways, on top of having her dad, her uncle Eddie, and a few names that aren’t familiar to you (note: ask Eddie who ‘Hopper’ is), she’s got the world wrapped around her pinky.

Steve is at the end of a tale of chasing little Eliza around the mall, having slipped his grip in a quick getaway, creating havoc as she clutched a teddy bear that wasn’t paid for. He laughs fondly, describing how she evaded three security guards attempting to aid Steve in his mission, finally catching her when she was hungry enough to decide to end the chase.

You all sit with your food in front of you, chuckling at Steve’s well-told story. “Man,” Eddie starts, mouth still full. He waits until he swallows to continue, “I don’t know if I could have a toddler now. Especially if they’re as wild as Dylan was.”

“Hey!” Dylan calls, gesturing to himself. “I’m right here!”

“No offense, kid, but you were a menace. I looked away for two seconds once and found you on the roof with an umbrella to see if it would work as a parachute.”

“You remember what you told me?” Dylan challenges him, leaning onto his elbows on the table. “Hmm? You tell her what you told me.”

You perk up, leaning into Eddie. “Well, I came out and asked him what he was doing. He said he wanted to see if it worked.”

“And…you said?” Dylan asks, eager to get to the punchline.

“I told him to try it then and see how it works out for him!”

“So, I did!” Dylan exclaims, exasperated.

“What?” You exclaim, and the three men around you nod their heads solemnly, all having heard this story several times before.

“I didn’t know he was actually going to do it!” Eddie laughs, defending himself at your bug eyes aimed at him.

“You’re my dad, I trusted you had my best interests at heart!”

“How you didn’t know sarcasm before that is beyond me…” Eddie mutters, shaking his head fondly at his son. “That story was used against me several times in court, too.”

“They tried to make him out to be a terrible parent. I was pissed.” Dylan explains, and your heart melts over it. “I maintained that even though I had a cast for a few weeks, doesn’t mean I didn’t learn my lesson. Don’t jump off the roof. You will get hurt. That’s what my dad was telling me before he dared me.”

You intertwine your fingers with Eddie’s, smoothing his thumb with your own. There’s a nagging in the back of your mind as you recall his claims of being too old for a toddler, a slight disappointment. You shove it far, far back into your brain, not wanting to dissect that. “So, you staying the night, or?” You ask Steve.

“No thanks, Dylan has made it clear that you two are insatiable.” He says, toying with his food. “He has told me every story where he has caught you, even the ones you don’t know about.” He pauses, giving Eddie a resigned glance across the table. “Freaks. The both of you.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you reach for it momentarily to check out the text from Bethany. As your attention is stolen, Eddie mouths over you, Jealous? Steve spurts out a laugh, as if the idea is so absurd. Your head shoots up, Bethany’s text is fresh on your mind. “Baby, can…can I take a picture of your hand?”

“Uh, sure.” Eddie agrees, placing his hand out from your grip and onto the table. “What for?”

“For my Insta,” you answer, somewhat preoccupied by getting a good angle while making his hand intertwined with yours look natural.

“Oh, soft launch?” Dylan comments, and you snap your fingers in confirmation.

Eddie chuckles, all the words coming out of you and Dylan sounding like a different language. “What?”

“Okay, so it’s not just me!” Steve laughs, holding his chest dramatically. “Seriously, what are you two on about?”

Dylan answers before you can–  you’re still trying to get a good angle of his hand holding yours on the table. “It’s posting an update to your relationship status without giving a name to the person. It’s telling the world you’re taken, but not by who. Usually in case they break up, but I don’t think it’s why she’s doing it.”

“No, Eddie has no social media and I know…” you pause, leaning back to take one more, “that he wants to keep it that way, so, I’m showing him off in my own way.” You glare at your phone, swearing softly when it still doesn’t look right.

“For fucks’ sake, let me,” Dylan snatches your phone and gets up from the booth, squats and places the phone as if you were the one taking it yourself, snaps a photo, and tosses the phone back to you. “There.”

The phone falls past your hand and into your lap. You gently pick it up, assessing the photo in your recents. Damn. It was the exact vibe you were looking for. “Well, thanks.”

Dylan shoots an eye roll back, his heart not really in it.

“Let’s see?” Eddie asks, leaning into you, resting his chin against the strap of your dress on your shoulder. You’ve already captioned and posted the photo onto your Instagram, so you let him view the screen. He lets out a chuckle, a wide grin appearing on his face. “I like the photo, but what does the caption mean? Greater than what?”

Caption reads, ‘Him>’.

“Oh, it just means you’re ‘greater than’ everything else. There is no one thing to put because it would be useless.” You explain, turning your phone off and placing it face down on the table.

Eddie shifts the two of you so he can see your face, eyes switching between yours as he assesses you. You look up at him, curious to what could possibly be on that brain of his. “You think I’m greater than everything else?”

Of course you’ve seen it plastered on social media sites, somewhat of a common way to refer to your personal opinion of something. It’s so normalized, and you figured it was a simple way to announce that you were taken by the finest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You nod, “Of course!”

His hand frames your face and suddenly his lips are on yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as the kiss and the pure love you feel in his reaction makes you feel like you’d be knocked off your feet if you weren’t already sitting down. Your limbs catch up and one hand lands on his thigh, ignoring the subtle heat you feel pooling in your cunt.

Steve and Dylan are forgotten as you get caught up in a frenzy, lips locking with a level of need for one another that would give any other person envy over the display of passion. Dylan has gotten used to it, you two were in the habit of kissing one another like this often. Steve takes a large sip of his bourbon, leaning back in his booth and leaning right to him. “So, this—”

“Yeah, that’s normal.” Dylan tells him.

“Jesus, I thought you were exaggerating.” Steve pauses, moving his plate away from him, all done. “Thought he was exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating what?” Dylan asks, afraid of the answer.

Steve smirks, taking another sip of his drink. “Just drink your apple juice.” He nods to Dylan’s beer; Dylan shoves his shoulder fondly in response. Steve takes one last big swig of his drink, gesturing to the waitress across the room for her assistance. “Hey. You two. Take a breather.”

Your kisses haven’t gotten any more intense, though his hand placed gently on your thigh was a tease. You could make out with him for hours, knowing your limits in the restaurant booth. Eddie finally pulls back, kissing you delicately a few times on the lips as to not leave you hanging, leaving you reeling when the server stops by.

“Just the check, please.” Steve tells her, smug.

The waitress nods, grabbing plates when the four of you insist you’re all done with your food. Steve and Eddie end up telling a story from their early 20’s when they were both single, finishing each other’s sentences as they remind each other how unruly they were back then. Your eyes flick back and forth between them, something clicking.

“Hmm.” You muster, letting yourself think about it.

“Yes, baby?”

You zone back in, blinking as you realize the three of them are staring at you expectantly. You hadn’t even realized you hummed out loud. “Oh, nothing.” But he’s not budging. None of them are. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Still no dice.

You lean forward towards Dylan, who sits across from you, lowering your voice. “Do you want to be traumatized by your dad’s sex life?” He shakes his head, the smile leaving his face. You lean back, satisfied. “Then don’t worry about it.”

“For the record, I think you mean more traumatized.” Dylan mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. You kick his shin underneath the table, light enough to hurt but not do anything. You giggle at his reaction, leaning into Eddie’s arm as it snakes around your own.

Your phone buzzes, another text from Bethany. You smile as you check it, content in Eddie’s arms as the waitress comes around again with the bill. Steve hands her a card as he watches Eddie speak softly to you, nothing important, just something causing you to giggle. He feels confident in his own marriage, a love that gave him four kids with a stable home to drive back to. It just made him happy to see Eddie in a relationship where it’s clearly reciprocated.

As Eddie whispers to you, you can barely take in the words Bethany has texted you, but what she has to say to you is seemingly important, your phone buzzing repeatedly in your hands. You allow your eyes to focus back on them and the all-caps of her texts become clear.

CHECK YOUR INSTA

HELLO???

BABE

HELLO

GO CHECK IT YOUR POST ALREADY HAS OVER 500 LIKES

BITCH IT’S AT ONE THOUSAND

HELLLLOOOO

“Oh, shit.” You switch apps to make sure it’s true. In your notifications, there are over 300 comments and more likes than Bethany had claimed, 1.5 thousand. By no means is it viral, but most of your posts got no more than 100 due to your circle of friends in the app being so small. “Holy shit.” There are several comments praising Eddie’s hand, even some drool emojis. The only solace you can give yourself is that you now know you are never exposing his face. “Um, Ed. Your hand has gotten attention.”

He leans over, seeing the amount of engagement on your post. “Cool.” He comments, the numbers not meaning much to him.

“I could’ve told you that much.” Steve laughs.

You peer at him questioningly, silently asking what he meant by it.

“Listen, the ladies in Hawkins are…what is it…thirsty?” He checks with Dylan. Dylan chuckles and confirms it. “Yeah, okay, thirsty. They are mad thirsty over Eddie. If I accidentally mention that the Munsons are coming into town, it becomes town gossip. It’s like Billy Hargrove all over again, except this time it’s age appropriate.”

You turn back to Eddie, serious as you can be. “You’re never going back.”

 He laughs, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. “We’ll talk about it.”

-

As you walk towards the front door of the restaurant, the sun has set on another day. Eddie’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and Steve calls out to Eddie as he leads you to his truck, drawing your attentions. “Munson!”

Eddie turns around, the use of his last name certainly grabbing his attention. They quit using last names on one another years ago. The last time Eddie fully recalls being called Munson by Steve; Steve was pulling at his hair… “You rang, Harrington?”

“Can I steal your girlfriend for a drive?” He asks, sending a smile your way.

“Uh,” Eddie looks at you, making sure you’re comfortable with it. You nod your head, sharing a look with him. “Sure. Have her back within the hour, though.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve jokes, laughing to himself when Eddie subtly grits his teeth, and a pink blush reaches his cheeks. “C’mon, I don’t bite.”

You give your boyfriend a hug, embracing his kiss of safety and comfort. “Love you.” As you walk the steps toward Steve, Eddie tugs you back by your fingertips, one last kiss for good measure.

“Love you more.” He mutters, and for a second you believe him. Oh, to follow him into his truck and ride with him in a comfortable silence on the way back.

“Come on! One hour won’t kill you.” Steve grabs your hand before you can register, leading the way to his SUV.

Dylan passes you on the way to his dad, waving cheekily on the way and you flip him off.

You get into the dark blue SUV, a Range Rover, no less. It’s evident he has a four-year-old with the car seat and the mess in his back seat, but you know that if he didn’t have Eliza, the brown interior would’ve been spotless. Steve turns down the radio he had blasting, turning his iPhone connection on. “Ready for some oldies?”

“You and Eddie. Terrible, the both of you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

Steve laughs, pulling out of the parking lot and turning the opposite way of Eddie’s (yours too) house. “Don’t worry, just taking the long way.” He assures you after he sees you staring wistfully off at Eddie’s tail lights.

It’s about five minutes of silence until Steve talks again. “So, I just wanted to apologize about earlier, I was…I was shocked. When you opened the door, I didn’t know who you were, but I certainly wasn’t expecting the answer I got. Can you tell me your version of how you two got together? I didn’t want Eddie interjecting.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat. “Uh, Dylan forgot a parking pass on our way to the beach, so he stopped by the house to look for it. Eddie comes down, sweats low on his hips and hair still wet from his shower, and I could barely focus on anything else around me. I should’ve broken up with Dylan the moment I got to his truck.” You tell him, making sure Steve knows full well that you are still apologetic about the cheating.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s all fine and dandy. As far as Dylan is concerned, it hurt, but it’s long gone in his mind. Trust me. Any hesitation is aimed at Eddie, and for good reason.” Steve reassures you, feeling your defense build. “Don’t worry. Just tell the story.”

“Okay. I didn’t end it because I was afraid he’d lash out and it would’ve been forever before getting ahold of Eddie again. I couldn’t risk it, so I stayed. It lasted until that weekend, when I was doing horny things in the living room with Dylan just because Eddie was home. Maybe he’d hear something, maybe he’d look…maybe he’d watch…” You drift off, remembering the sheer urgency you had for him. “I wore skimpy outfits, I bent over around the house, I was fully prepared for Eddie, and to be honest, I was too hormonal to care or understand the repercussions.” You glance out the window, lights blinding you as you pass each neon sign. “So, we hooked up. After spending more time with him, I realized how much I had already cared about him. Now, Steve, now, I love that man so goddamn much.”

Steve smiles at you as he drives, his head waving with the bumps in the road. “Where do you see this going? For your future? In the long term, are you willing to accept that his body will give out a lot earlier than yours?”

 A knot forms in your stomach in the shape of a confession. You switch your glance to Steve, and you feel safe with him. Not like Eddie, no. It was like he would never tell your secrets, or like he’d protect you. “Uh, this evening, I had the terrifying displeasure of realizing one day I’d want kids with him. One day, after he marries me and tells the whole world who I belong to, I want to have his baby. I want to raise a baby into a handful of a toddler into a snarky teenager. I thought I was totally in the clear for kids with him, but you showed him the video of Eliza and now it’s…I can’t get rid of it. So, thanks for that, Steve.” Admitting to this, out loud even…it’s too much. “I want to spend my life with him.”

You wait for an answer, somewhat on edge as you fiddle with your fingers. “And you’re okay with the knowledge that you will bury him one day?” Steve pressures on, and you respect it.

“I’ve accepted the realities, yes, which is why I’m not telling him I want kids. He said he’s too tired. I can’t force that on him.”

A full belly laugh escapes Steve as he shakes his head. “If you told him that you want a baby, he would absolutely give you one without a moment’s hesitation. I have never seen him like this, not even with his ex.” He pauses, thinking on how to tell you. “Listen, I don’t know if you know much about her, but Eddie’s ex was not all that…kind to him.” He chooses his words carefully. “He was into her from the get-go, but it was obvious he was more into her. Eventually, when Eddie realized she was cheating, he called me, panicking about losing Dylan.

“I sent my best lawyer to him. Less than a week later they have court dates for custody hearings. Honestly, she was angry she was caught and angry she wasn’t the one to file. I think it took her being angry and belligerent in court for Eddie to finally see who she was. The judge was patient, more than she should’ve been. When she didn’t listen to the judge’s warnings, Eddie was granted everything he wanted. He thought it was a goddamn miracle, the only two things he wanted were the shop and Dylan. The shop had people’s livelihoods; it was their only income. Dylan just wanted to be with his dad, he made that very clear.

“Once the dust settled, it sank in. He called, finally, crying on the floor of the closet. He had spent all year on it just for her to only have it for a handful of months. It was a labour of love for him, and it turned out she was sleeping with someone else the entire time.”

Your teeth grit, fucking seething for Eddie. If either Eddie or Steve knew what was good for her, they’d never tell you her name.

“I came immediately, bringing Arlo and Nick to help cheer him up. Nick was only about 2, so he would’ve done more cheering in the way that toddlers do. But even Arlo knew something was up so it’s the one and only time he’s ever played DnD and fully embraced it. When Nick went to bed, the four of us all played together.” Steve observes your body language, your jaw locked and fists clenched. You’re so angry for him. He decides to omit the fact that after the kids went to bed, Eddie was inconsolable in his heartbreak. Steve knows it might come out one day, but that was not the point of this discussion.

“I promise, I didn’t tell you to make you mad, I just need you to know that Eddie will love you selflessly and wholly, because he doesn’t have it in himself to love any other way.” He slows to a stop at a red light, turning his head to face you. “I was very worried at first, but man, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

The question still echoes in your mind, but the answer is starting to lean towards a yes. “How did you guys become friends?” You ask instead, leaning away from your boyfriend’s heartbreak and his bitchy ex.

“That… is a very long story.”

“Eddie gave you an hour, of which you’ve only used 15 minutes.” You point out, smirking.

“Alright, buckle up. It’s Hawkins, Indiana. 1996. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson is missing.”

-

Steve was right, the story of their friendship was a long one. He didn’t necessarily dive into the nitty gritty, just implied he was falsely accused in a situation where he had no alibi and helped him out. One day, years later you would finally feel comfortable asking and Eddie would get into the full details of the Upside Down.

Steve brought you home with ten minutes to spare, you cling to Eddie as soon as you see him. The unresolved lust from earlier on top of the empathy for how hard it must’ve been for him drove your need for him, just you and him. “Can’t wait any longer.” You whisper, fingers digging into the now open button up shirt he wore to dinner and fisting the material into a ball with your hands.

You feel a huff of silent laughter come from him, a long sigh leaving his lips as he considers his options. It’s only 11 o’clock. Usually, when Steve is in town he stays for hours into the night to talk and laugh together. Dylan started a habit of joining their conversations as he got older. He knows it’s what they’re expecting, and he knows exactly what you need. He lifts your face with his hands. “Go get dressed into something more comfortable. Be right up.”

You nod, feeling sleepy, and for once, not conscious of the audience you held with him.

As you run upstairs, Eddie turns to Steve. “You and Dylan go to your hotel room. I’ll meet you there. Later.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Didn’t you say you were exhausted?”

“I could just stay home all night. I have no problems with that.” Eddie bites back, a tone of endearment at the root of it.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. God, I miss when you were single,”

Dylan and Steve leave for the hotel room, the two shooting teasing glances at Eddie.

You lay on your side of the bed, scrolling on your phone but only paying the littlest attention. Eddie opens the door, his long legs take him to the bed quickly as he lies right next to you. You immediately crawl into his arms, the phone forgotten. Your chest feels tight as you mentally go over what Steve told you, the way his ex treated him. There’s no way it was true, because Eddie ever feeling like he deserved any of it was too much for you to bear.

Eddie feels the shift in you, something’s different. It isn’t one of your normal hugs. Your arms are wrapped around his, as if you’re sheltering him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, brows furrowed as he notes your quickened breathing and heart rate. You’re lying down; you should be far more relaxed.

“Steve…Steve told me more about your ex, and it made me sick to my stomach.” You admit, not wanting many secrets between the two of you. You’re already harbouring one, you don’t need another. “I don’t know how anyone could possibly treat you like that.”

Eddie’s eyes well and he looks up, trying not to let a tear fall from the tone of your voice or how genuine you sound in your anger for him. “It’s ancient history, now, baby.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” You counter, hands squeezing him. “I love you more than I can even conceive. More than I can wrap my head around… I can’t stand the thought of you being heartbroken because that bitch decided someone building her a closet wasn’t good enough for her.”

Eddie can’t wrap his mind around how loved you just made him feel, and how in your own way, you just told him he would be just as protected as you are by him. You would stand up for him the same way he would for you. He doesn’t have the words or the strength to hold back the tears, so he leans in and kisses you, really kisses you.  

As his lips meet yours, you taste the salt of his tears and lightly use your thumbs to brush them away. He climbs on top of you, brushing his hand under your PJ shirt, testing the waters. You guide his hand to your tit, aching for him to touch you for what felt like hours. Your kisses are slow and purposeful, the stream of the salt still coming, and you ignore it for the sake of his hand feeling so goddamn good on your nipple as he teases you. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about them, anyway. Your mouth opens against him as he flicks it, whimpering.

You wrap your legs around his hips, unwinding them from between his legs and his bulge presses into your covered heat immediately. You kiss down his jaw, gently decorating his neck with wet kisses as you kiss away the salt that streamed down his face. Your hand moves down to palm him through his slacks, a whimper leaving him. “Do…do you want to?” You check, slightly stroking him through his jeans.

He sniffles, bunching up your shirt to help it off. “Yes. Sorry, I can’t handle strong emotions, they…overwhelm me.”

“I’ll handle them for the both of us.” You offer.

Eddie is a mess already, and he tugs on you to kiss you some more. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much.” He mutters, gulping through his kisses.

You don’t answer him, grabbing at his shirt to take it off. As the shirt flies off, his chest comes full contact with yours and you arch your hips up to meet his, the bulge hitting your heat almost too perfectly. You grind on it, needing him now, wanting to feel all of him.

Eddie reads your mind, tearful but still in tune with everything your body needs from him. His hands move your pants down your legs, placing kisses down your torso as he does. He crawls back up to you, taking his own pants off as he continues to wantonly kiss you. Before you know it, you feel his cock against your thigh as he presses your legs into your stomach.

Eddie leans into you, connecting your foreheads. You frame his face, staring at his wet brown eyes. “Please baby.” You kiss him, your hips barely able to stay still. “I love you, I fucking need you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, nodding his head. He guides his cock into you, pushing in gently but deeply into you within seconds. Your legs tighten around his torso, your pussy sucking him in. “Christ.”

His face finds itself in your neck, giving sweet kisses up and down as he starts to move his hips. You hold onto him, hands wrapped around his torso, spread-out palms down on his back. His hips rock so slowly, taking in every inch of your pussy he possibly can. His forehead finds yours again and his eyes open and stare into yours. His mouth is parted, his cheeks are flushed, and no longer wet. Somewhere in the midst he stopped crying, but the emotions he felt were still there. “Feels good?”

You nod, breath hitching by the sheer emotion you see in his eyes. “So good, baby.”

He smiles softly, staring at you half lidded. “Don’t want it harder?” He teases, bucking his hips hard once before moving back to his soft pace.

The buck releases a loud cry of pleasure from you, not expecting it. “Fuck, Ed. Can you do that again?”

Eddie smiles wider. “Mmhm.” He bucks into you harder again a few times, and your eyes close immediately, the heat from your pussy starting to pool. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“More?” He asks, slowing his hips again. “My love, if you want me to fuck you harder, you need to tell me.”

“Fuck me harder, Ed. Please.”

Eddie chuckles softly, stopping his movements altogether to give you a kiss, taking your breath away by the love in it. “Sure thing, baby.”

Before you know it, his hips start at an unforgiving pace, the force takes you aback so badly, you moan loudly at every buck, every rut of his hips against yours. His thumb connects to your neglected clit, and the subtle heat explodes into a frenzy. Eddie feels your velvet walls pulse around him as you get closer. “I wanna feel that perfect pussy cum all over my cock.”

“Eddie, so close…love you so much…” you’re seeing stars, your legs tense around him. He leans down to you, giving your torso one long lick down your tummy and, oddly enough, it was the final thing to drive you over the edge.

Your pussy tightening around him does it for Eddie, watching your face as your orgasm rips through you, filling you up with his cum, white ropes shooting into you. He collapses on your chest, the physical exhaustion from the day mixed with the added exhaustion from emotionally breaking down finally piling on him. “Sweetheart, I love you. So fucking much. I just…can’t believe how much better you’ve made my life.”

“I love you.” Your entire body wraps around him, holding him close to you. “Do you have to go?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

You nod your head, knowing full well you’ll probably fall asleep on the couch in Steve’s hotel room.

“Alright, let’s go.”

-

Eddie scratches his head while working on some paperwork in his work office, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he goes through some numbers. One of the things he hates about owning a business is the math part of it. Luckily, he’s good at math, it’s just when the numbers suddenly go negative, it creates an issue.

His phone sitting on the desk starts to ring and he picks it up, expecting it to be you, but instead he’s met with an unknown number. Eddie sighs and reluctantly answers. It could be a customer with a new number for all he knows.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“Eddie Munson speaking.” He answers, scanning over another invoice.

“Why the fuck are you dating a 25-year-old?” It occurs to Eddie this phone number has an area code from Boston…which is where she moved to. Fuck.

“Hi, Brooke.” He sighs, tired.

“Yeah, yeah. When and why the fuck are you dating some little hot piece of ass? You know she’s probably a gold digger, right? This morning she posted a selfie from my closet and it looks like she’s already moved in?”

“We met through a friend” Eddie wraps his head in his hands, wondering what the hell he ever saw in her craziness. “Wait, why am I telling you this, what fucking nerve do you have to call me and accuse my girlfriend being a gold digger?! How the fuck did you even find out?”

“Her little Instagram post with you two holding hands, which by the way, was cheesy and not in a good way. It got a lot of attention and Laura recognized your hands immediately and sent me the post.”

Fucking Laura. “Good for you, you found her Instagram.” He sighs, leaning back in his office chair. “I owe you nothing, Brooke. Nothing. I’m not sure what you had expected from this conversation but I’m sure this wasn’t it. Oh, and Brooke? That’s not your closet, hasn’t been for 15 years. Don’t call me again or I'll get my lawyer.”

“Oh, calm down.” Brooke huffs, her voice agitated. As if her voice had any other tone. Eddie hears her muffle the speaker to her phone. “Boys, quiet down for five minutes? I’m on the phone!” There’s another shuffle of noise on the other end, then her voice is directed back at Eddie, “That won’t be necessary. I just need to make sure you know that she will ruin your life because she’s a little skank.”

“Talk about my wife that way again and you’ll be hearing from a lot more than just my lawyer, you absolute cunt.” Eddie hangs up on her, missing the satisfaction of slamming a phone on the receiver. He picks his work phone up and slams it down. There, much better.

Wait until Steve hears about this… Holy shit.

Wait until you hear about it. Oh, fuck.

-

Steve manages to stretch his visit for one more day, laying on the couch with you as you watch a movie he recommended to you. He lays down with his torso on the arm rest, legs resting on your lap. When his legs landed, you glared at him, asking if he had nowhere else to place them. Steve said in response, “Of course, I do! You’ll just hold them because you’re so nice.”

So, you do. The movie is called The Gentlemen, a fast-paced comedy about a drug lord attempting to sell his business and all the shenanigans that follow. You find yourself laughing with him, expecting some movie like The Godfather or Fight Club, though it came out only four years ago.

Eddie swings open the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly with a smirk on his face. “Oh my god, Steve. Oh my god.” Eddie came straight from work, the phone call not allowing his brain to go over another invoice, especially when the numbers didn’t make sense. He struts to the couch, lifts Steve’s legs and sits right next to you, placing Steve’s legs back on his lap. He places his arm around you, looking at Steve with a smirk plastered. “Steve. Oh, my god.”

“Ed?” You ask, taking in his flustered features. Not flustered in the way you’re used to, but flustered nonetheless. “Everything okay?”

He nods his head, an incredulous laugh escaping as he does. “Oh, yeah. Totally okay. Got a phone call today.” You and Steve share a look of concern over his shoulder. “From Brooke.”

Now, this name means nothing to you. But from Steve’s reaction, in a split second you realize it’s the name of the woman you have grown to viscerally hate. “No way. What…what did she say?”

“She found Y/N’s Instagram post from last night and recognized my hand.” Eddie says, squeezing your shoulder. “She uh, then proceeded to insult me, insult her, and remind me how grateful I am she left me before I realized what a terrible person she is.”

“Anything else?” Steve asks, eyes wide. Brooke has literally been radio silent for years.

“Yeah, but nothing worth getting into.” Eddie comments, leaning into the couch, raising his eyebrows at Steve. Not something he wants to get into with you around, but definitely will with his best friend. “She sounded…jealous.”

“Jealous how?”

Eddie looks at you, twisting his body to face you. “Jealous of you. Out of line, absolutely, but jealous.”

The satisfaction that ripples through your body is simply too much. A woman took advantage of his kindness and left him for dead and now she’s jealous? Good. “Wait, she stalks my Instagram?”

“Uh, I suppose, yes.” Eddie answers, not so sure he understands the use of stalk.

“I could have some fun with this.” You mutter, thinking to yourself.

“Baby?” Eddie asks, slightly scared of the wicked smirk he sees displayed on your face.

“Hmm.” You mumble, opening your phone to your Pinterest app. “Yes?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, talking low as he watches over your shoulder.

“Nothing. Just be ready for a picture when I need you.”

Eddie laughs, ready to calm you down a bit, but finds himself a little fearful of the plan in your mind.

You scroll through your Pinterest for about ten minutes while Steve and Eddie converse about the boys again. If you have learned one thing about Steve, it’s that his kids are his pride and joy. The conversation leads to Eliza, and you feel that pang in your stomach again. It’s getting harder to ignore as you watch Eddie’s face light up at the endless stories of the kids’ mischief.

Steve gets up from the couch, needing to use the bathroom. While he’s gone, you take advantage, finally having a moment to ask the question that’s been on your mind. “Hey, Ed.” You start, his head turning to face you, almost impossibly close.

“Yes, baby?”

Shit, his lips are so tempting. You sigh, ignoring the pull to his lips. “I just have a question, and please don’t be offended if the answer is no.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pleasantly surprised by your reaction to his ex-wife calling, so he’s certainly intrigued by what you’re about to say. “I make no promises.”

That’s not comforting. “Okay. Have you and Steve…did you guys ever hook up?” You ask, avoiding his eyes, which is impossible because they’re right there.  

Eddie breaks into a smile followed by incredibly contagious laughter. You were certain you must’ve been dead wrong based on his laughter alone. You’re just reading into things that aren’t there. He finally stops, grabbing your face for a smiley, giggly kiss. You pull back, looking at him in confusion, as he laughs again. “I should’ve known you’d figure it out.” He says, eyes searching yours.

Oh, fuck. You were right! “Wait.” You say while giggling. “I…I was right?”

“Yeah.”

“When?!”

Eddie squints comically, looking up. “Uh, 27 or so years ago in Vegas.”

You squint back at the sheer cliché of it all. “Vegas? Really?”

“Well, we were both down on our luck, we thought, very drunkenly, might I add, a trip to Vegas would help. It certainly did the trick, I think.”

You laugh, the situation described much differently than what you had expected. “I bet it did.” You boop him on the nose as he scrunches it adorably.

Steve comes out from the bathroom and sees your silly display of love, jogging to the couch. “You guys are cavity inducing. Seriously.”

“Steve.” Eddie says, turning his head to face him. “She figured it out.”

Steve smirks, silently asking Eddie if he was talking about what Steve thought he was talking about. “Hmm?”

“Mmhmm.”

“No shit! What gave it away?” Steve asks, genuinely curious as he attempts to extend his legs onto Eddie’s lap again.

“No offense, you guys, but you both act like you have a secret with one another that you won’t share with the class. There’re only so many secrets that could be.” You offer an answer, and they seem to accept it…for the most part.

“What, we don’t give off two very straight dudes?” Eddie jokes, making you shove his shoulder.

“See, Dylan’s great, but I’ve been dying to ask since last night, and I wasn’t gonna ask with him around.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning in for one last gentle kiss. When he separates, he clutches onto Steve’s leg, startling him. “Sorry,” he laughs through his apology. “I have to take a shower then I have one more errand to run, and I need your help before you take off tonight.”

“Sure, dude. What do you need?”

You go back on your phone, checking your Pinterest and mostly tuning out the conversation, looking for subtle ways to show Eddie off on your Instagram that will piss Brooke off. Eddie nods his head to indicate it isn’t a conversation to be had around you, and you don’t even notice.

Steve nods in understanding, fist bumping Eddie as he runs around the couch and up the stairs. The silence that settles around you while he’s upstairs is comfortable, Steve paying attention to the movie as the plot thickens while you scroll through your phone and gather devious ideas. You barely notice the ten minutes pass by as Eddie comes back downstairs. You clock the scent of his freshly showered self, causing you to look up.

Eddie is wearing a pair of jeans and a button up loosely tucked in with a chain necklace. You pick your jaw off the floor, gulping as he walks up to you with a smirk on his face as he witnesses your very visible reaction. He lays a chaste kiss on your forehead and taps on Steve’s leg.

Steve gets up from the couch and Eddie grabs his keys. “Be back soon, baby!”

“Could you get some pop?” You ask him as he opens the front door.

“Baby, we have so much to drink that’s not gonna rot those pretty teeth. It won’t kill you to drink water.” He says, stopping in the doorway. You roll your eyes, tempted to order in from a convenience store if he was gonna be this stubborn. “If there’s pop here when I get home, you’re gonna see a consequence.”

“Yes, daddy.” You bite back. Well, if you order one drink and place it in the bottom of the recycling, he won’t see it, right?

“Hey. Drink some water. I mean it. Take care of yourself, for Christ’ sake.” He yells, hearing your eyes roll. “Love you!”

Eddie shuts the door, reminding himself to check the recycling when he gets home.

“Daddy, huh?” Steve asks, poking fun as they get into his truck.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Eddie rolls his eyes, shoving the keys into the ignition. His hands move to put the vehicle in reverse when something occurs to him. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Uh, give me a sec.” Eddie brings out his phone, going through the 15 contacts, scrolls right to Maya. He rings it.

“…Hello?” Maya answers, sounding understandably perplexed.

“Hi, Maya, how would one know what kind of ring to get without asking the person it’s for?” Steve’s brows rais, the errand being ring shopping is news to him.

“Well… it depends. Do you want to buy her a ring just because…or are you shopping for,” she pauses, slowly saying it. If she was wrong, it could set off an alarm, “…an engagement ring?”

“Yeah, an engagement ring.” Eddie admits, saying it out loud feels crazy to him. “How would one figure that out?”

“Give me five minutes.” She says, and abruptly hangs up the phone.

As Eddie stares at his phone in bewilderment, Steve leans into him. “Engagement ring, huh?”

“Won’t be asking her until at least another few months, if I can even wait that long. I said something on the phone with Brooke today. It just came out.” Eddie offers, his voice soft as he explains to Steve what’s been invading his mind for the last hour. “Brooke went a bit far on the insults. She called her a skank.”

“How classy.” Steve offers dryly, his face suggesting it was anything but.

“I got so mad. I’ve never been as mad at her as I was when those words left her mouth. I said if she ever called my wife a name again, I would be calling more than just my lawyer.” He quotes himself, letting the word sink into Steve’s skin.

“Oh shit.” Steve mutters, the weight of the word kicking in.

“Yeah, it slipped out, but calling her my wife felt so damn good I couldn’t help myself. I’m not getting any younger.” Eddie pauses before saying anything else, the next confession might be too much to say out loud yet.

“C’mon. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” Steve says, giving him some comfort.

“Her eyes when she looks at pictures of Eliza, or listens to stories about your boys, fuck I thought I never wanted another kid, but Jesus Christ, I need to see her face when she looks at one of ours.” Eddie admits out loud for the first time, the words scaring the shit out of him. Dylan in his 20s was exhausting. Could he handle another newborn? Another toddler? Another teenager?

Steve felt like he held all the power in knowing you two both wanted a kid. Feels like neither of you are ready to tell the other, so it’s a secret he’ll have to keep to himself for now. (If he’s strong enough.)

Eddie’s phone buzzes, a link appearing in a message from Maya. He opens it up and it directs him to your Pinterest page. Eddie wonders how Maya even found it. Your name isn’t connected to it. The link is specific to a board labeled Engagement Rings with a bunch of sparkle emojis surrounding it. Eddie looks at a few of them, screenshotting a handful to get the basic idea of what you’d want. He texts back Maya to thank her and puts his truck in reverse before Steve even knows what’s happening.

-

Eddie and Steve go through at least three jewelry stores before Eddie angers Steve at his indecisiveness. It isn’t that Eddie is indecisive, it’s that he’s hoping for a jeweler to look at the general vibe of your board and have the perfect ring to offer. Instead, Eddie’s met with vague indications of where he could look. These interactions all leave Eddie feeling frustrated as just walks out of the store for the next one only about ten feet away.

It takes Eddie a few tries until he finds the fairy godmother he’s been looking for, but finally he shows an engagement ring specialist the general aura of the rings you had saved, and she brings out four or five options that fall into the same category for Eddie to look at. Maybe Eddie could’ve been clearer with other stores of what he needed, but it felt as if they didn’t think he was going to buy one, anyway. Here, in this store, he feels like a respected customer, which goes a long way with him. In his shop, he spends his extra time making sure his men don’t treat any ladies like they know less just because they’re women. He hoped that even though he had a few faded tattoos and dressed alternatively, he’d be extended that same courtesy.

The helpful sales lady holds up each ring and explains to Eddie why she picked it in relevance to the photos you saved. Eddie sighs, each one in the right field, but not quite there. As she puts rings away to keep on looking, Eddie clutches onto the glass in frustration, feeling completely unprepared. Brooke basically gave him her ring and told him to propose when he had the balls. He wants you to love this ring, he wants to see it and know that it was made for you.

Maybe that’s too much to place on a ring. But for Eddie, just the simple prospect of searching for this ring means he has the hope that you will be his for the rest of his life.

Just when he’s ready to leave for the next store, she brings another one, a look on her face that tells Eddie she might’ve found exactly what he’s been looking for. She lays it out on a cloth, as Eddie marvels at it. It’s a thin, silver ring with four blue stones lined up along the band as the metal crosses over itself like vines. Eddie knows all of the jewelry you wear is silver, dainty, and has a few hints of blue. From the moment he sees it, he knows it’s the One.

Eddie holds it up for a few moments, circling it around in his hand. It takes all the self control in the world not to just head home and propose that night. He hands over a ring he took from the center console in your closet to the sales lady for your size. Within ten minutes, the papers are signed, the ring paid for, and Eddie walks out with a small white bag.

They get into the truck, the white bag small, yet significant as it sits in the back seat. “Well, that’s a step you’re taking.” Steve observes, carefully assessing his best friend’s emotional state.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie hums, staring at the bag in the rearview mirror. “And now, I’m fighting the urge to propose tonight.”

“Tonight?” Steve asks him, the speed of your relationship knocking him in the gut. “Let’s not scare her off. Plan a nice meal, set out a pretty dress on the bed for her. I bet she’d appreciate that.” Eddie considers this, knowing Steve is probably right.

So, now the ring sits in its box in the bottom of Eddie’s underwear drawer.

-

When Eddie and Steve get home, they find you on the couch napping while a movie neither of them has heard of plays on the TV, a bottle of nearly empty coke on the table next to it. Eddie sneaks upstairs to hide the evidence, the bag shoved into the bottom of a trash can, and the ring tucked safely away. When he comes back down, Steve is in the kitchen making himself a snack for the road while Eddie crouches in front of the couch to wake you up.

“Morning, baby.” He says in a low voice, petting your left cheek with his thumb.

Your breath hitches as you wake up, the last thing you remember is being giddy as you picked up your order from the front step with chips, candy, and a single bottle of pop. As you finished most of your snack, the movie started to matter less and less, a phenomenon that only occurs when you know that you’re about to pass out on the couch.

“There she is.” He mumbles as your eyes take in your surroundings. Him, the end of the movie you picked out, and the setting sun through the curtains. “Hi. I see we didn’t take my concern for the amount of pop you consume to heart?” He musters, gesturing to the side table.

You stretch, every muscle in your extended limbs feeling it. “You made it pretty clear it was for my teeth.” You mumble, unable to prevent a smile at Eddie’s floored reaction.

“I see.” He mutters, and the smirk on his face is enough to send a thrill of fear through you. “C’mon, Steve is about to leave town. Let’s go say our goodbyes.”

He tugs on your hands, lifting you up off the couch, guiding you to where Steve’s packing a recyclable grocery store bag with snacks he found around the kitchen. He comes out of the kitchen clutching the bag, his brown eyes shooting a fond look to the both of you. “Sorry, guys. Gotta get to the actual purpose of my trip eventually.”

You squint at him, pretending to consider forgiving him. “I suppose we’ll forgive you. If… you bring Eliza next time.”

“Another one bites the dust.” Steve mutters under his breath, chuckling. Eliza Harrington really has the whole world wrapped around her little pinky. (And oh, boy, does she know it.) He grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you in close for a hug. “Take care of him, will ya?”

You nod into his bicep, the soft spot he had gained for you over the last two days taking you by surprise and vice versa for him. “You know I will.”

Steve can’t resist the joke. “Oh, I know you do.”

You hit him playfully, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks.

Steve and Eddie share an even longer hug, something about saying goodbye to old friends is always hard, you know that. As they separate, still clutching each other, Steve says something under his breath that makes Eddie hit him harshly. “Steve.”

“What?”

“Dude. Subtlety?”

Steve chuckles as he picks up his bag of goodies. “If you two are one thing, it ain’t subtle.”

You’re left questioning what could’ve possibly warranted the reaction that Eddie let out as Steve and Eddie do a few more rounds of farewell. It never seems to end as they keep bringing up new topics with each step Steve makes toward the door. It reminds you of your mom at the grocery store when you were eight.

The door finally slams, Steve yelling an "I love you" while Eddie shouts “Yeah right!” He brings out his phone soon after, sending I love you, too to Steve as a text. Well, Eddie is realizing that a next time is never guaranteed.  

The moment Steve’s SUV takes off, the low hum of the engine riding off to the end of the street, you turn back to the couch for a night in with Eddie. Alas, he has other plans. You lead him to the couch, holding his hand. Eddie tugs you back sharply, your limbs flailing as a result. “Woah, there, sweetheart.”

You give him a questioning look, wondering if you were just picturing his eyes darkening. “Hmm?”

“I asked you, very nicely, not to order pop. For one thing I think you drink too much of it, and for another there is water, juice, alcohol, even. Baby, I would just appreciate you taking my wishes into account.” His voice is serious, to a point that startles you. “So. As mentioned, there will be a consequence.”

“Like…like what?” You ask him, gulping as he traces his fingers along your collarbone so lightly you barely feel it.

He leans down, leaning into whisper, “Run.”

Your heart rate stutters as you turn away from him and run straight towards the basement, a place you know was once Dylan’s hangout spot, but now is just a dusty living room. Your feet trip over themselves as they run down the steps, pure panic and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you run to a guest room, hiding in the corner.

Upstairs, there are footsteps leading directly to the steps you just ran down. He fucking walks. He takes his time, step by step, and you can tell with each step as your heart rate picks up that he’s taunting you. He knows you’re in some corner somewhere, but he just doesn’t know which one. “Downstairs, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” Eddie admits, peering around each corner with his hands behind his back.

Fuck, you’re just a sitting duck here. You crawl up by the door, waiting patiently as he walks into the room right across from the one you’re hiding in. You make a quick run for the stairs, your breathing tight in your chest as you run, but for some reason, can’t recall why you’re running, you’re so fucking turned on right now. Your first few steps are loud and you curse out loud when suddenly Eddie’s feet are right behind yours, giggling with glee as you do.

Somehow, you make it up the steps and run straight to the kitchen, stopping at the island. He lands on the other side, his face hungry with want, his shirt untucked. There’s a wild look in his eye you can’t quite understand. You giggle as you attempt to go either way, realizing you’re stuck where you are.

“Oh, how is she gonna get out?” He taunts, watching you assess the situation.

Your instincts take over. You miraculously hop onto the island, using some sort of kicking method against the counter straight across and crawl into a dive for him, attacking his lips with yours. He accepts you without fail, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back hungrily. You place kisses down his neck, focusing on the one spot on his collarbone you knew he loved when you sucked on it.

“Like that.” You answer him, starting to run straight towards your bedroom.

Laughter like music to Eddie’s ears leaves your mouth as you reach the top of the stairs, and he books it straight after you, not waiting another second to chase you to where he suspects is either the hallway or your closet. You’re crouched down in the hallway, hoping he’ll go straight to the bedroom. He doesn’t, seeing you as soon as he rounds the corner.

He fists your hair at the crown and you help as he lifts you to your feet. “Looks like I caught ya.” He hums, his face watching you closely. His hands let go of you and he moves to kiss you again, his tongue feeling a sort of rough it hasn’t before. “Holy shit.” He mutters, guiding you so you’re up against the wall.

You kiss him back, and for what felt like the first time, you didn’t spend an ounce thinking about it, just giving in. “Ed.” You whimper, the heat between your legs now begging you to provide friction.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, his hands moving roughly up and down your body. “What, baby?”

“Ed. Please.” You beg him, lifting your leg so you can at least feel his boner peeking at your clothed cunt.

“Nuh uh.” He tuts, lightly pushing on the knee. Your leg falls down, as well as your face. “You don’t get off until I tell you to. So, unless I move your leg, or remove your shirt, you just let me kiss you and respond. Got it?”

You gulp, nodding your head. “Yes.” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes faltering for a fraction of a second. “Eddie?” You ask, making sure he’s okay.

Eddie loves that you can pick up on this, even as he gives you new rules and a new playground to explore. “Do you mind just…doing one thing for me? It kind of stuck with me since you moved in.”

“What?” You ask, your heat still aching, but for the sake of his sanity and for his good graces, you attempt to stand still. (You’re terrible at it.)

“Call me sir?”

You reflect on moving day, the men calling him the name that so obviously gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Apparently, when you commented on it, you made an impact. “Yes, sir.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie hisses, marveling at you now, staring up at him through your eyelashes, waiting to be told what to do. “Now, be a good girl and bend over against the wall.”

“Yes, sir.” You tell him, turning around against the wall.

“No, actually.” He says, taking you by the hand and taking you downstairs. He guides your hips so you’re right in front of the kitchen sink and he bends you over. “Much better.”

He moves your sweats and panties down only to the middle of your thighs, bending on his knees as he admires the slick that has already gathered. “So wet.” He murmurs. You whimper as he barely dips a finger into your entrance, gathering some slick on his finger. He lifts it up to your mouth, “Open.” You do so without hesitation, licking your tongue all over the three knuckles he places in your mouth, tasting your own arousal. Without warning, he takes his finger out from your mouth and wipes it on your shirt. You waited for the praise that never came.

“Oh, now brats get praise for doing what they’re told?” Eddie asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking as he pulls down his pants.

“No, sir.” You mutter, now craving that praise even more.

“That’s what I thought. Now be a good girl and take this for me.” It’s the only warning you get before he slides his cock in. Your feet are practically planted right next to one another so you start to open your stance to allow him to go in deeper. “Ah.” You freeze in place, realizing your mistake.

He places his hand around your neck and brings it back to him, your neck extended feeling both incredibly uncomfortable and hot. “What did you do wrong?”

“Move without your say so.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, move without your say so, sir.”

“Here. If you ask, and I say yes, or, if I tell you to. That’s it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Eddie smiles down at your blown pupils and half open mouth. He was afraid he jumped in too deep and threw you into the bathwater, but he could feel your pussy tighten around him. You’re so into this. He gently kisses your forehead and lets go of your neck. He slides his cock in even more, and keep in mind, he hasn’t even started to fuck you, yet. He’s barely halfway in your pussy and holds onto your hips as he sees you start to squirm. “You need something baby?”

“Could you move please, sir? Just a little bit? Need it so bad.”

“Should’ve thought of that sooner, then baby.” He musters, sounding bored, though he’s anything but. “Here.” Without warning, Eddie moves his fingers against your clit and has you teetering the edge in mere minutes. You’re so close, you can see the edge. It’s right there.

He stops. He slides in a bit more into you as his mouth gets close to your ear, his breath giving you goosebumps. “Consequence.” He grunts out, his grip on your hips bruising.

Your knuckles are white as you hold onto the edge of the sink like a vice. It’s like you can taste it. He doesn’t move another inch, his heartbeat against your back and the only audible sound coming from you is your panting in need. Eddie pushes in the rest of his length and a second beautiful sound is added to the mix, one he couldn’t get enough of, even if he tried. Why would he ever try? The sound of your pussy as you gush around him is perfect. “Taking me so well.” Eddie mumbles as he places both of his hands over yours on the sink.

The whimper that leaves your throat forces its way out, your body is tense from doing everything you can not to swivel your hips or back yourself into him. “Baby, you’re so tense.” His arms flex along yours, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth. “Why, hmm?”

“You…you said not to move unless you say so.” You tell him, frustrated because, of course, he knows.

“Or, unless you ask to.” Eddie adds, his chin resting on that spot on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Sir, can I please move my hips?” You ask him, hoping he isn’t teasing you again.

“Of course, baby.” Eddie’s tone is sweet and endearing. What a goddamn liar he is.

The words are like music to your ears as you start to move your hips, testing the waters. When your movement isn’t met with any punishment, you start moving more frantically, fucking yourself on his cock. Eddie lets out a sigh of content, hands raking down your back to your hips, the palms rough against your bare ass. “Sir, can I please move my feet?”

“See? My good girl is catching on. Of course you can, baby.” He answers, a smile lacing his voice.

Giddily, you move your feet further apart. “Sir, please…please take my clothes off?” You ask, waistband restricting your legs. “Wanna feel you.”

Eddie’s hands move down the apples of your ass to the sweats that started moving down your legs from the impact of your ass that had just started bouncing on him. He kisses your clothed back as you step out of them, kicking the garment aside. You feel the cotton of your shirt move up your back, your arms lifting over your head to assist Eddie as he takes it off. His lips touch the bare skin of your back, his tongue sending ripples down your spine as you shiver under his touch. Eddie grunts as you continue to swivel your hips against him.

“Fuck.” Eddie grunts, watching your naked form wither against him. He can no longer fight the incessant need that’s grown while waiting for you to ask him for movement. His hips start mercilessly pounding into you without a hint of a warning. The moans that fall from your throat are uninhibited and radically full of relief. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod your head, curling over the sink as your arms give out.

Eddie slows down and takes himself out, and your hand moves to push yourself off the sink the littlest bit when you realize your mistake. “You can move.” Eddie smirks, noting your obedience. He’s still standing with his pants down to his calves and his shirt disheveled. He steps out from his pants, tossing the pair toward your pile of clothes. Then he goes down each button on his shirt, slowly exposing his chest to you. As his fingers move over each one, you eye his chest hungrily, aware he’s watching your face while you watch him.

The shirt falls down his arms with a slight flop as the material hits the floor. “Sir…” you gulp, the two of you staring at one another. “Sir, can I kiss you?”

Eddie smirks, nodding his head. You take the two steps toward him and your legs wrap around his hips as you hungrily kiss each other. He turns toward the kitchen island, a small yelp leaving your mouth as the cold granite counter hits the warm flesh of your ass cheeks. He guides his cock into you, slowly pushing into your heat, watching your face as your eyes roll back. “Feel good?”

You nod, a laugh escaping your lips.

“What’s so funny, hmm?” Eddie asks, using his mouth and tongue against your neck.

“Good? Your cock is perfect, Ed.”

“What happened to sir, baby?” He asks, yet continues to rut into you. Your face falters, realizing your mistake. He lets out a laugh, pitying you.

He places his fingertips on your clit, circling slowly, making the heat that’s pooled in your stomach hotter and larger than you could even conceive. “That…that feels so good, Ed.” You tell him, letting your head fall back.

“God, I love when your tight pussy just-” he inhales through his teeth, “sucks me in… Feels like heaven.”

You giggle, the end of it cut off by a particularly rough thrust. “Heaven?” You gasp out, Eddie starts to move his fingers faster and matches the pace with his hips.

“If Heaven isn’t fucking this tight pussy all day, then I don’t fucking want it.” Eddie gasps back, a growl forming under his breath.

“Ed, I’m gonna—” the feeling overwhelms you, the edge muting your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body.

Eddie moans as you tighten more around him, a fix he figured impossible. He still rotates on your clit, you release two sharp exhales, the heat too hot, too much. “Too much, Ed.”

“You can do it, baby. I could just edge you more.” He mutters.

You giggle, frightened at the goddamn prospect of it. “No, no, no.”

“No? Well then show me. Let’s feel that pussy make a mess all over my cock.” You came from the words alone, giggles intertwined through your moans. “Oh fuck, good girl,”

“I’m so close, baby.” He moans.

“Gonna fill me up?” You ask him, your legs tight around his hips as you bite at his collar bone.

“Keep doing that.” Eddie begs you, and you happily oblige. Every nip, bite and suck at his collarbone had him gasping over you, the chain of his necklace hanging between you two. Your hands go into his hair, pulling at him and you could probably have a third one at the rate he was going at.

No probably about it, but Eddie’s panting and you’re exhausted.

Even then.

He pushes you down as he cums, your back screaming with cold as it hits the island counter. Eddie collapses on top of you, and you breathe heavily together, both catching your breath. His mouth latches on your neck, kissing a trail to your lips. “Oh, I love you.”

You smile into his kiss, your noodle legs falling from his hips. “I love you.” You find yourself wrapped in his arms, the smell of sweat and sex invades the kitchen. His chest is covered in sweat and there’s nothing better.

“Join me for a shower?” He asks after you two have a moment of silence, his fingers single handedly causing a brigade of goosebumps down your side as they move in a whisper over your skin. His other hand is wrapped on your left hand, and you don’t realize he’s unconsciously rubbing at your ring finger.

“If I can walk.” You giggle.

Eddie chuckles, pulling himself out of you and giving you a sleepy half smile. “I could always…” He begins, and then he scoops you up over his shoulder to take you up the stairs. You protest for the first minute of it, but when the view is his toned ass as he walks up the stairs, you really couldn’t complain.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

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(Okay the very idea that this many people wanted on the taglist is INSANE to me. If you want on it, just reply and I'll add you.)

[remushrts]

Last first kiss

— pairing: james potter x gn!reader

— a/n: happy new year with a belated new year fic!! i meant to write it back then, i'm so sorry i'm late but i hope you enjoy the reading!! (edit: i tagged this gn!reader but reader is said to be wearing lipstick, take this as you want)

— summary: friends didn't kiss. so maybe you needed a new name for what James and you were.

In the pale light that bathed the entire city, James Potter was even more beautiful. He was just... Something entirely else, to your eyes. He seemed ethereal. Almost to good to be real, but again his touch on you convinced you otherwise.

You had no idea if what you were doing was allowed. If you were any sober, that thought might have been enough to hold you back. But, god, champagne and tequila worked their way on you, and you could still feel the burning heat on your throat from your last drink, alcohol coursing through your veins.

You knew, however, friends didn't kiss. Not even drunk, or stupid ones. Not even the ones who wished they did when they were sober. Friends didn't kiss. So maybe you needed a new name for what James and you were.

Because friends didn't look at each other like that either. You knew that if you wanted, James would give you a easy way out. And you knew he would be oh so gentle about it. You knew James Potter would find the kindest way to break your heart, even if it meant breaking his own too.

You find James three minutes to midnight. Three minutes, and he looks so pretty, first buttons of his white shirt undone and a half empty glass of champagne between his fingers, eyes glued to the tv where the countdown was just about to start until you appear in his peripheral vision. James looks at you with a smile tugging the corners of his lips. "Hey, love."

"Hey." You smile, all drunk and nervousness, but it he notices it, he doesn't make it known. You're thankful for it.

"Enjoying the party?" James asks, and you know he's just being polite. He knew you were, from the way you were looking, best kind of messy, eyes sparkling at him and your lipstick imprinted in so many glasses there was barely any left at your lips.

God, James should stop staring at your lips.

You answer anyway. "Yeah..." You gulp down, looking at the clock on the wall, his gaze oblivious to you. One minute and counting. A familiar voice yells to the party that the countdown is starting, and you feel a shiver down your spine. You look at James, and he already got his eyes locked on your face.

The countdown starts loudly. You count in your head too.

Ten, nine...

Oh my god you need him to stop looking at you like that.

...Eight, seven, six...

James smiles to you.

...Five, four...

You smile back.

...Three. Two...

One.

It's a frenzy. It's shouts of "happy new year"s from your friends and the loud explosions of fireworks outside, and finally, it's James' lips on yours. Sweet, intoxicating, and he's clinging to you like he's afraid to let you go. It's breathtaking, his hand cupping your cheek and yours in his hair. James breathes against your lips. "Happy new year."

You answer this time with a smile that's nothing if genuine. "Happy new year, James."

[lolitakirstein]

a/n: ooof this turned into a damn text thread i'm sorry.and mostly eren POV, shitty editing this is going to have to be in multiple parts. I'll get part 2 up ASAP. :)

Eren reached for his phone, brows furrowing. It was odd for him to ever hear an alert from it, let alone a text notification. He had made it that way. Cutting off communication to most, keeping conversations to a bare minimum with those who were close...well...more at arm's length...maybe further than that.

If I keep people out, they can't hurt me. they won't know I'm such a fucked up person.

He flipped his phone over, reading the text.

You: hey eren :)

His heartbeat kicked up seeing your name on his phone. You seemed to be the only person who would reach out without being talked to first. Of all the people in his "friends" group, it was you who seemed the less likely to judge...if he ever got that vulnerable with you. Which he doubted he would, you deserved better than someone as fucked up at him. But when you looked at him, he sometimes felt that you saw past his flaws.

His fingers hovered over the screen unsure what to write, finally settling for a simple "Hey."

You: How are you? I haven't seen you in a while.

It was true, you hadn't seen each other in weeks. The last time being a get together for the end of summer.

Eren: I'm fine..just minding my own business as usual."

You: well you can mind your business and still not be a stranger :)

the lighterheardness of your message made him actually smile. The thought that you are wanting him to be closer though...that makes him nervous. He doesn't want you to look at him differently if he got any closer.

Eren: I wouldn't mind that

You: Well lets plan a hang out or something :)

Eren paced his living room. Were you being flirty? or just friendly? or maybe even pitying him? How was he supposed to go about this...play along? he wanted to. Fuck he wanted to get closer to you. But that voice in his head told him it would end in disaster.

"Fuck it," he said aloud to the room

Eren: Maybe we could go for ice cream, yeah?

You: that sounds fun!

Eren waited to respond, not wanting to seem to eager, but he had come this far he might as well go for it...

Eren: would you like to later today?

the minute he sent it, he regretted it. Too soon, too desperate, too overbearing.

You: I can't today. Me jean and connie are going downtown to the bar. I've already backed out twice ugh

His heart dropped at that fucking name

JEAN

He knew you and jean were friends, closer than you and him were, but it still boiled his blood that you were going out with him...even just as friends. He knew how jean got when he was drunk. Hell he knew how jean acted sober especially around you. Hanging around, shameless flirting, playfully tugging your hair as he'd pass behind you.

Eren:Why the fuck are you going with horseface. Hes a creep, he just wants to use you I hate how he touches you Alright, have fun.

He breathed deeply. Calming himself before he could get any angrier at the situation. Yes, he knew it was wrong to get mad at you for going out. But why did it have to be with Jean. He hoped Connie would keep an eye on you and him at least.

*4 hours later*

Eren was lying on his couch, the tv going, but honestly his thoughts were constantly on you being out there at some cheap bar with Jean. No doubt his fucking horse hooves all over you. What were you doing? what was he doing? what were you wearing?

Is she thinking of me?

His resolve to not text you the rest of the night crumbled at last. Reaching for his phone he thumbed to your name and typed

Eren: Hope you are having a fun night.

After what seemed like an eternity but was really only 10 minutes, he saw you begin to reply. His heart kicked up.

you: Heyyyy. I'm a bit buzzed but im havn fun. connie and jean are doing karaoke save me lol

He smirked at your jumbled reply and the thought of jackass jean doing karaoke thinking he's hot shit.

Eren: i'm sure that's a sight. What those dipshits singing...or attempting to sing

you: connies in his missy elliot era rn. Jean just serenaded me with some taylor swift.

Eren clenched his jaw. He knew you were a secret swiftie as much as you tried to act like you werent, he'd catch you humming it. Now it seems Jean is also aware of your little secret.

Playing cool he replies, "Never took that asshole to be a swiftie."

you: me neither, it's definitely the booze

Eren: How much more drinking do you guys plan on doing?

You: I'm tapping out after this one

An attached photo came along with your text. It was dimly lit but he could make out the shape of a dozen or so shot glasses empty on the table and your hand holding your last one up for the camera. And there, blurry but still visible, right in the corner was Jean...his hand on your leg.

DAMN HIM

He feels every emotion rush through him: anger, jealousy, possessiveness, sadness. He heartbeat pounded in his ear.

Eren: What's with Jean being all handsy?

He hoped that sounded subtle and not like a psychopath...with yes he was probably acting like one. Even going so far as to zoom in on the photo to see how far up your leg jeans hands were.

you: Probably to keep from falling over.

You were playing it off like it was no big deal?!

Eren: That doesn't look like the ideal place to put his hand to keep from falling over."

you: Lol. you know how he is when he is drunk...all...lovey

At this point, red is all Eren sees. He doesn't care if he comes off like an asshole or possessive anymore. How could you be so oblivious and naive that Jean was doing this intentionally.

Eren: Doesn't that piss you off that he gets all handsy like that? He shouldn't be allowed to touch you, even if he's drunk.

No going back now. Whatever progress eren had thought he had made with you would certainly be gone after this show of anger. His true self. Fuck it he didn't care. This is why he stayed to himself. In one evening, you had stabbed him in the heart...

Part 2 sneaky peak:

"You know i can't be like him right?" "I don't want you to be like him...I want you to be like you."

thanks for reading :)

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁*𝐓𝐂𝐇 ; 𝐆𝐔𝐍-𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒, 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐒, 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

summary: y/n tries to blend into the group, meanwhile it’s harder then she thought. on the other hand, memories are getting back to her.

wordcount: 3.328k

tw: swearing, y/n is a little bit bitchy (again but not that pick-me style), finally some action, flashbacks about parents (i won’t tell you what’s my purpose with this hahahahah), crime. some heartwarming fluff (i won’t spoiler, read it girlie)

author's note: it’s half 1am, edited this on phone. sorry for not writing, i had a job interview, yaaay!!

part 1 part 2 playlist!!

“so, what do you think about hyeon-ju and the plan?” woo-jin asked as they sat at the table.

“she seems cool. but a little bit antsy. i’m not familiar with personal questions at job interviews.”

“why, what were your interview questions?” woo-jin asked, as gun-woo handled the meat.

y/n snickered.

“my boss just looked at my cv, i had enough experience. i’m working at a bar, i’m a so-called little boss. nevertheless, my wage does not show this” y/n huffed a little, getting a message. looking at it, she chuckled. “oh, speak of the devil, it's him! asshole.” she murmured as she put away the phone.

“won’t you gonna answer it?” gun-woo asked. y/n shook her head.

“no, he probably bothered me with some easy-peasy tasks. i swear if i wouldn’t be there, he couldn't even sign or read a paper about procurements!”

“at a bar? what is the name?” woo-jin asked.

“pink panda. close to the station, but not too close for drunk people to get home.” y/n replied. gun-woo’s chest tightened a little bit; if woo-jin and y/n get to talk about this, he’s gonna feel… like an outsider.

“i know that place! me and my friends got to drink there a lot, but i never saw you.”

“probably you were just too drunk.”

at y/n’s words, the three laughed. “working in a bar is cool, even if we close at 10pm because of covid. a lot of people came and went from where i work because the management didn’t have the money to pay them. only mine and some co-workers’ salaries haven't been shortened; everybody else's has varied through time.”

“that’s shit… i used to teach gym classes to kindergartners at my friend’s school, a gym teacher of some sort. but since then it was shut, i’ve been a bit of a bind.”

“well, don’t worry about it,” said y/n, as she chewed on the meat that gun-woo served them. “that probably didn't suit you anyway.”

“you think so too?” gun-woo laughed. y/n smiled and nodded.

“you two can go and damn yourselves, kids fucking love me!” woo-jin protested. “but i suppose, with drunk people it’s a little bit more difficult.”

“don’t even begin, please,” y/n shrugged, “i can handle them. lot of people try to suffocate their depression and unsuccessfulness into alcohol, but only the bartenders see how broken they are. probably, you wouldn’t sober in a bar, especially at night, that’s why you don’t care about other people, but workers, like me can see everything. i have had to gain a lot of nerves ever since i started working at pink panda. with covid, happy parties and celebrations started to decrease, and more and more working, depressed men and women had come to us. i couldn’t think that i’d have a sore heart anytime when it comes to closing time. shit, some people’s state is seriously a cause of concern.”

“that’s really depressing. see, now you made a bad vibe! how can i happily eat this meat if you say these kinds of things? aish, y/n, i just wanted to ask if you can make some good drinks, and now we are here, like in some death row.” woo-jin tsked, y/n furrowed her eyebrows.

“oh, well, then sorry to tell you that! i can’t recommend these people to go to a psychiatrist anyway.” she murmured.

“why not?” gun-woo asked, and then y/n looked at him through the fog of the frying pan.

“because i have to work somewhere too, and i’m too dumb for a major in psychology.”

the three laughed.

“true, true. now then y/n, what kind of drinks can you make?” woo-jin asked, tucking some kim-chi in his mouth.

“anything you want. why, you want to get drunk?”

“no, i’m just saying that if our mission goes well, maybe you could practice with us. i like cocktails with whiskey, and tequila!” woo-jin suggested.

“whiskey? you seem like a vodka-type of guy.” y/n responded. gun-woo listened to the two, and somehow felt ashamed for not drinking as his best friend.

“and what do you think, what do gun-woo drinks?” woo-jin asked, nudging gun-woo with his shoulder. y/n tilted her head, like she was guessing. gun-woo hoped the blush didn’t creep up to his cheeks, like he felt the embarrassment filled his veins.

“i don’t know… maybe he doesn't drink? he doesn’t have sunken eyes like you.”

“sunken eyes? i do not have sunken eyes!” woo-jin huffed. “and what do you drink, y/n?”

“maybe it’s gonna surprise you, but i don’t drink that often. i have to say that i only drink on special occasions. but, a good gin or some fine cocktails are always a prize for my liver. seeing other people’s misery everyday, somehow takes away the mood from alcohol.”

gun-woo tried not to let the flashbacks kick in, as he thought about his dad. he imagined, what if y/n still serves his father in pink panda but she doesn’t know that it’s his father.

“if i could make a decent cocktail, i’d make drinks everyday. everytime! when i was in the marine, me and my comrades had to drink shit soju or whiskey, or rum with cola. it was terrible!” woo-jin shivered, probably from the memory of the taste of it.

“cola and rum could be cuba libre, but judging by the marine, i would say that yeah, it was really just some shitty alcohol-juice. talking about marine, gun-woo, are you an ex-marine too?”

woo-jin grinned, clinging to gun-woo. “believe it or not, but gun-woo was the best part of the marine! he was elite! scouts! cool, huh?”

y/n smiled, looking at gun-woo.

“didn’t know you were this cool.”

if gun-woo’s heart wasn't already beating fast in his chest, y/n’s words and the confident smile on her lips guaranteed to cause him an almost-tachycardia. how could she be so cool and so cute at the same time?

“i… i don’t like to boast about it. being a marine gave me such good things as patience, tolerance, and stamina. maybe that’s how i could begin boxing, without these things, i could have maybe given up.” gun-woo said shyly, y/n clinked her chopsticks with his.

“if you have nothing else, you can say these things with confidence, you know? my father was also a scout at the marine, and he wa… is the best man i’ve ever knew. look at me, i don’t even have any experience from the military, i’m only a girl who works in a shitty bar with shitty people.”

“but you can mix cool drinks! cocktails!” woo-jin protested, making y/n shrug her shoulders.

“and you can fight in many martial arts!” gun-woo added. “can is ask… something personal?”

y/n leaned back, furrowing her eyebrows in a funny way, but her expression was calm and absentminded.

“we aren’t at the interview now. and you two seem to peel every skin off of me. so, go on! ask me.”

gun-woo curled his fingers a little bit.

“why do you know this much about martial arts? i don’t want to insult you, but girls your age… aren’t so interested in these. did something happen… or…” he didn’t know how to continue it. y/n nodded, pushing away the plate from herself a little bit, like if she needed some place.

“it’s a family tradition. before yeongsan, we also lived in the outskirts of seoul. some places are really dangerous, we lived in a building estate, but crime like rape and theft was common everyday. my father knew that if i don’t learn how to look out for myself, i can be a victim easily. in the beginning, i hated training and boxing, and that my father beat me up with the sons of his friends. i hated running in the morning, i hated doing push-ups and practicing the movements… but after that, when i was like eight or nine, i don’t remember, my mother got harassed when was coming home at night. seeing her sad, crying and sitting with her at the police station… broke something in me. “y/n snuggled in her seat, looking down at the plate. “i hated the place we were living at, i hated every person on the street, i saw everyone of them as the attacker of my mother. i used that hate to gain my strength, everyday. i ran everyday to get away from the men who wanted to harass me, i fought the guys in my father’s gym to beat the guys who picked on me at school. and i… i made a promise every day.”

“promise of what?” woo-jin’s voice was like an axe that broke the ice. y/n looked up at him.

“that nobody can beat me. that i’ll fight, cut or run out from every dangerous situation. and everybody that hurts my family or my loved ones, that means that they hurt me.” y/n answered.

“you are so brave”, gun-woo said, from instinct. it didn't matter if the girl’s mother, sister, friend or whoever got hurt… it mattered that they had the same cause to get strong. to protect. and those people who train and fight for other people’s protection, that meant that they never used it for bad.

“what? i’m not!” the girl shook her head. “i’m just strong. it’s really bad to say, but if mother doesn’t get harassed… maybe i never learn that there’s actual danger in the world. or i learn, but too late, when i can't do anything about it.” y/n protested.

“you are cool, y/n. i mean, you dont look like you could beat a guy. or, in other meaning, any guy.” woo-jin added, getting her huffing.

“just because i don’t have big muscles like you, that doesn’t mean i can’t beat others! okay, people who are built like mountains are the exception, but i still can run.”

gun-woo thought about in-beom, and how the man beat him, even if gun-woo was really strong. he imagined that what if y/n was in front of in-beom… only thinking about made his stomach churn. he’ll never let y/n meet in-beom, and never will let him hurt her.

“did you run from situations?”

“sure. i don’t fight if it’s already hopeless. but it was only two or three times, when i was little. it’s also important to measure your chances and possibilities if you don’t want to die.”

“wise words. but now, let’s eat!” woo-jin ended the conversation by getting a bite from the meat.

after lunch, the three were getting back to the bookstore. gun-woo walked beside y/n.

“you were right, when you said that thing about chances, and possibilities. maybe… i should have run too, or gotten myself and my mother safe.”

“i think if you ran from smile capital, they could have found you again, and again. i don’t know if you did the right thing, but let’s say that you didn't have any other choice. and if someone's life is at stake, then… you feel that you gotta give in everything, if their life matters to you.” y/n replied.

“did you… find your mother’s aggressors?” gun-woo asked. y/n looked at him, nodding.

“yeah. i… i wanted to kill them. my own desire to kill scared me too, i was only twelve! but in the end, i thought i couldn't bear the weight of killing three people. i rather beat them up, and called the police that they tried to assault me. i told the policemen that it was self-defense, when it came to their wounds. i guess they’re still in prison, but i’m not sure if i could recognize them again.”

“did you hurt other people too? for vengeance?” gun-woo asked, the girl shook her head.

“not that hard. just frightened away some boys who disturbed me in school. after school, i never wanted to go to university. i don't have instagram or any social platform, i don’t want other people to see my face on the internet. even that’s a miracle that you found me.”

“you father is sir choi’s friend. i think that sir choi thought about you. did something happen to your father?” at gun-woo’s question, y/n shook her head, stopped walking.

“can you… just please, don’t fuss about my father? i know that you don’t ask me because you want to tease me, but…” y/n stepped closer to gun-woo, looking into his eyes. gun-woo didn't see tears, but something much more frightening: sadness, the type of sadness that washes over any other feeling. suffering from memories, from something that you can’t change. her lips tightened, like she tried to keep something inside, eyebrows furrowing, but in the painful way. “...it’s more horrible than you can imagine. everytime i want to talk about it, it’s… like i see everything in front of myself again.”

gun-woo nodded, his expression hardened.

“did the president of smile capital do that?”

for a couple of seconds, y/n’s face was still. she wasn’t even blinking, but then, a nod, soft as a breath came from her. gun-woo patted her shoulder, looked into y/n’s eyes again. they were shining from something he couldn't name. she focused on every word that came out from his mouth.

“we’ll catch yang jae-myeong tonight. you don’t have to worry about those memories anymore.”

[ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏 ]

the sky was dark as hyeon-ju’s car rode through the empty streets of seoul. they followed the car that supposedly drove yang jae-myeong and his gang to steal IDs in the dark of the night. y/n tried to follow the car with her eyes, but hyeon-ju then threw a cap to her to cover her hair, the mask was already covering the lower side of her face. woo-jin and gun-woo sat in the back, y/n on the passenger's seat beside hyeon-ju.

“so you know the plan, right?” hyeon-ju asked, as y/n tried to tuck all her hair under the cap. it was impossible, she had longer hair and the cap would slide off with every slight movement.

“do i really need to wear this shit?” she whimpered as she looked constantly in the little picture of the rear-view mirror. hyeon-ju didn’t even look at her as she kept driving.

“you have unusual hair, y/n. what do you think, would it be ten or fifteen minutes to find you on the streets? smile capital has people everywhere!”

“okay, chill. geez…” the other girl murmured, in the little mirror, she saw gun-woo’s eyes. y/n made an ‘is hyeon-ju seriously this crazy and antsy?’-look. gun-woo snickered, his eyes crinkled and y/n knew he wanted to laugh.

hyeon-ju suddenly stopped; woo-jin almost knocked his head into the seat in front of him.

“ow! are we here?” he asked, hyeon-ju turned back.

“get out. and don’t fuck up the plan, remember?”

“yes!” the three answered in a choir, climbing out from the car. y/n pulled her jacket over her body tighter, in the middle of the night, it was colder than a couple hours earlier. but it was january, so she didn’t complain. in the outskirts of the city where she lived before she had to move on, winters were more cruel. her mother always filled the heating pad she used for menstrual cramps, took it under the blankets so y/n didn’t freeze at night –but several times, when her father didn’t come home, only at sunrise, she slept with her mother. although the cold was almost breaking her bones, she found a calmness that she couldn’t find anywhere else. not in the warmest room, not when she was sitting in her bathtub on her own rent.

“there he is” woo-jin muttered, shaking y/n out of her memories. it’s no time for reverie, it’s time for action. they sneaked down on the stairs where the gang was going down, as quiet as they could. gun-woo looked at y/n, nodding reassuringly. y/n nodded back, trying to hear what they said, but they were too far to get to know anything.

“we need to go closer” y/n whispered to gun-woo, who nodded.

“i know.” he answered. “maybe we…” but then, woo-jin ran forward, hiding behind another pillar under the arcades. gun-woo tried to sing to him, but the other was singing constantly, “stop singing to me! we’re gonna get caught!”. woo-jin accidentally knocked down a box. the thud was so silent, and yet so loud. y/n didn't have to see that yang jae-myeong and his gang suspected something.

“oi, is there someone?” the air froze. y/n’s heartbeat began to overcome her breath, she looked at gun-woo. they communicated with their eyes.

we're gonna get caught. we fucked up!

don’t worry.

they heard footsteps. y/n closed her eyes, the leap seconds seemed to be hours, and the footsteps were like ticking bombs. she tried to disappear just thinking about it, but opened her eyes when she felt something… something with her hand. it was warm, and had a little grip on it, but so gentle that only the warmness was constant. y/n slowly looked down.

gun-woo held her hand in his. y/n barely held hands with anyone she knew, but with him, it was so natural. like he always used to touch her. she didn’t try to shake it down, maybe it was from the adrenaline, but more because of the comfort. it somehow calmed her down, but only for a second, when she heard footsteps again. she didn’t knew how far the bad guys were, and it confused and frightened her. he didn’t see yang jae-myeong ever, was he a mountain? or the best fighter in the town? he surely had a knife, she could handle it, but his gang… were they not enough for them? all these questions got the worst out from her. that’s it, we’re fucked.

no, we’re not.

gun-woo slowly lifted up his other arm, putting his pointing finger in front of his mouth, be quiet. y/n nodded, but when the footsteps were like the closest, she waited for that yang jae-myeong guy to pop up beside gun-woo’s head. now she was the one who held a tight grip on gun-woo’s hand. she didn’t dare to close her eyes. she could almost hear gun-woo’s breath and heartbeat.

“come on man, there’s nobody! you’re just drunk, fucker.” another guy said. y/n tried not to breathe out so loudly. the footsteps faded, y/n tried to count it. by ten footsteps, maybe they were distant enough and had turned down in the arcades. woo.jin looked at them, y/n bend over gun-woo, giving him a ‘i’ll blind you with your own fingers’-look. gun-woo, slower than a sloth, began to peek out. he turned back as fast as lightning, giving y/n a little heart attack again. he nodded. it’s clear.

y/n nodded back. then, go!

sneaking on the only possible way down, they heard as yang jae-myeong began to bewitch his next victim. he got the homeless man, got his ID. y/n’s anger boiled, but he couldn’t do anything. they sacrificed the smaller bad on the altair of the bigger good. it reminded her of when her mother played ‘what do you see? i see a…’ game with her, to get her away from thieves and homeless people.

yang jae-myeong wasn’t that lucky with the second one. as much as y/n could hear, he stole the ID from him. idiot, how could he not remember? he only had one job! y/n rolled her eyes, but when gun-woo shook her shoulder, she looked there. they were beating the guy.

“what the fuck?” she whispered to woo-jin, who catched gun-woo’s arms.

“gun-woo, you can’t be involved!” he tried to stop him. with every thumping and clanking sound, bones and body parts were clashing to the ground, gun-woo looked at y/n. please, stand by my side. please reassure me that it’s okay to fuck up a plan and saving a man from dying. please, let me do the right thing.

y/n huffed.

“we don’t have time to negotiate on this. i don’t give a crap about this plan if we let an innocent person die.” she said, didn’t even finish the sentence and gun-woo began to attack. he easily knocked down the two of them, leaving only yang jae-myeong standing.

“who the fuck are you?” the guy yelled, y/n looked at him. he didn’t even look like a criminal; he seemed like a normal guy. or an asshole. okay, more like an asshole. gun-woo hesitated, this was yang jae-meong’s moment to attack as he flipped out his butterfly knife. the moment of shine didn’t come though; as y/n saw the sharp object directed at her friend, she kicked out from his hand. “and who the fuck are you?”

y/n didn’t say anything, only standing undo a fight position; she didn’t even know if it was krav maga, systema or muay thai —it was her instinct.

seeing the overpower, yang jae-myeong decided to run away without his gang. loser; they’re just doing this together for money. y/n was proud of herself; how fast did she make deductions! surely it was the adrenaline.

as the bad guys ran away, gun-woo crouched down to the man, touching its head —it was swimming in blood. if he wasn’t dead already… he could be just in ten minutes.

“call the ambulance” y/n said. woo-jin was freaking out at the time.

“hyeon-ju is going to kill us” he said, with his phone in his hand. the girl stepped in front of him.

“no, she won’t. call her, tell this, otherwise she’s gonna find it out and she or we all gonna get in trouble later.”

“but—“

“no buts! it’s our only choice.” y/n didn’t know why, but she added a “if she’s yelling really loud, give it to me.”

“why? you are freaked out too! you wanted to kill me!”

“you knocked down a damn box, geez! just call her! tell her what we did. and try to calm her.”

“thanks for the impossible task” he murmured, as he searched for the girl’s contact.

tooking off her cap and mask, y/n felt a little bit relieved as she could breath fresh air after the stale one under her mask. crouching down to look at the men, checking his pulse, she looked at the neon signs. her chest felt sore, and this whole situation was so screwed.

looking at gun-woo as he talked to the ambulance on the phone, for a couple of moments she just stared in front of her.

according to the minutes when yang jae-my ring was just assuming that someone was following them…

…now they were truly fucked.

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃.

author's note: m tired )): but we reached more than 140 notes on the first part, u are all so awesome!! i love y’all 🥺🥺🎀🍵🩷✨🩰 that’s why it’s worth it to stay up late at night and finish this &lt;3

taglist: @fairyhani @castleninja @littlebaby-bunbun

(ask for tag in taglist in comment or here)

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Wolfwood x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Yes, this is a repost. Yes, I didn't write this my brain. [ SYNOPSIS ] idk you fuck your best friend's brother. I truly didn't think that hard about any of this. [ WORD COUNT ] like 1k [ CONTENT ] Porn without a stitch of plot, you're besties with your roommate, vaginal sex, "just the tip", he hits it from the back (ayyy), dubcon (drunk sex), alcohol, overstimulation, pet names (girlie, baby), barely edited, and nothing about this is serious like in the least.

You alwaaaaaaaaays thought your best friend’s older brother was cute in a fucked up kind of way. He was tall, legs toned and long, and broad shouldered. His clothes were always disheveled in some way: pants that were too short and revealed his ankles, shirts with several buttons undone that showed off his chest. His black hair was always in a state of perfect disarray. He wore dark sunglasses all the time and chain smoked.

But the biggest appeal was that he was a seminarian. A priest-in-training. You assumed those types were stuffy, good boys that went to bed sober every night.

Nicholas, however, was anything but that. You wouldn’t say he was an alcoholic, but he felt no guilt when it came to imbibing. Anytime he stopped by he brought a bottle of dark rum and made you play drinking games. When your friend would go to bed, you would jokingly confess to a multitude of sins of varying severity.

And you alwaaaaaaaaays wanted something more to happen, but getting caught by your friend deterred you. She already thought her brother was a bit of a loser and she would have judged you endlessly for having poor taste.

She loved him of course; she simply didn’t hold him in high regard. His existence was too contradictory, the juxtaposition too much to reconcile. He was a lout of the first degree, but also was relatively pious and devoted to his studies.

Your friend wanted more for you (not her weird, religious brother). And as long as she was around you could fight off your desires with zero issues.

That’s why you were set up for failure the night he stopped by without warning. Your friend wasn’t home and your fantasy started to feel more tangible. Everything was falling into place; this was the perfect opportunity to indulge in your crush.

You scurried around in search of something slutty yet comfortable to wear which ended up being a pair of booty shorts, a cropped sweatshirt, and absolutely nothing underneath. You knew if you stretched your arms over your head he’d get a tantalizing view of your breasts.

You opened the door and told him that his sister wasn’t home, batting your lashes. He smirked and asked if you were doing anything, his voice like honey, endlessly beguiling. You invited him in.

“You tryna have some fun?” he asked with an impish grin. He held up a bottle of Bacardi.

“Hell yeah. Let me grab some shot glasses.”

You strutted to the kitchen with a little spring in your step. You looked over your shoulder to make sure your guest was following. His eyes were firmly pointed at your ass, noticing how the cheeks poked out from the bottom of your shorts. The swing in your hips successfully hypnotized him, pulling him deeper into your clutches. You were going to make this night count.

He took a seat at the table and watched as you grabbed two glasses from the highest shelf. He smirked as your sweater rode up, revealing the plush underside of your tits. You pretended not to notice.

“Shall we?” you asked, handing him a shot glass.

The two of you took shot after shot, rarely speaking to one another. You didn’t need words. A smoldering glance, a flirty wink, said it all.

“You got a drinkin’ problem, girlie,” Nicholas finally said, pointing at the nearly empty bottle of rum.

“You drank just as much!” you laughed, elbowing him.

“I’m shouldering the weight of God’s words. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m trying to get the courage to fuck a priest-in-training obviously.”

He cocked an eyebrow and genuinely seemed surprised by your bold initiative.

“Nah. My sister’ll kill me… And you too probably.”

“She will never know,” you purred, grabbing a hold of his hands and leading him to your bedroom.

You undressed immediately, tossing your clothes at him. You got on the bed on your hands and knees, and arched your back. You gave him the perfect view of your glistening cunt. You heard Nicholas fiddling with his belt and dropping it on the floor. He positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock along your dripping folds.

“I’m only puttin’ the tip in, alright?” he said, flicking his lighter. You immediately smelt the acrid smoke of his cigarette. “I don’t need you fallin’ in love with me.”

He guided his cock into your cunt, stopping halfway, and began to massage your clit with his free hand. The pads of his fingers were soft and warm. 

“I want all of it,” you whined pathetically.

You craned your neck back and pouted at him. His cheeks were pink, jaw clenched. He was a man in trouble, a man weighing his options. He took a drag off his cigarette and put it out in the cup of water sitting on your nightstand.

“Alright. You want my cock that bad, huh?” he asked, playing with your aching clit.

“Yes!”

He sank his cock inside you and he let out the most heavenly moan. It was thick, stretching out your cunt in a euphoric way. His thrusts were fast and deep, with an air of desperation to them. He kept his fingers firmly placed on your clit, furiously rubbing it. It was almost too heavy a burden to bear. You felt like you were going to collapse under the weight of your ardor.

“To—too much,” you choked out.

“Nah. Lemme show what too much really is, baby.”

He pinched your clit between his fingers and you yelped. It was already so sensitive, the pressure he was applying was dizzying. You struggled to hold yourself up and buried your face into your pillow. He was right. This was too much. But you loved it.

Nicholas chuckled and slammed his cock into you. His thrusts were relentless. Each one was punctuated with one of your dreamy moans. You were seeing stars, ascending into the arms of God, or something… you didn’t fucking know. Your brain was leaking out of your ears. And it didn’t matter; it served no purpose. All you needed was his cock throbbing in your slick cunt.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

A Drunk Mind Speaks A Sober Heart Part 1

Summary: Reader gets injured on a call but Buck is swiftly to the rescue with Eddie in tow. Later on, Reader and Buck make drunken confessions to separate confidants. 

TW/CW: Evan “Buck” Buckley x Reader, Best Friends to Lovers, House Fire, Injured Reader, Alcohol Consumption

Requested?: No 

Word Count: 3,042

A/N: Alrighty, part 2 picks up right after where this one leaves off and I’ll have it up as soon as I edit through it lol. This took like 4 or 5 hours to write as a whole and I’m pretty fuckin proud of it. 

A/N: I can't... he's so fucking adorable.

Part 2 Here

--- Third Person POV --- 

    It’s Monday and the LAFD 118 team has been called to a two-story house fire and said house is beginning to collapse. Buck and Eddie jog away from it toward the engine to assist in putting out the rest of the fire, having rescued the residents and left them with Hen and Chim. As they approach Bobby, his gaze is cast behind them, “Where is (Y/N)?” he asks looking back to Buck and Eddie. The two look behind them and then back at each other before Buck takes off sprinting back toward the house even as the roof caves.   

    Bobby makes eye contact with Eddie who is already backing away, “Way ahead of you.” Eddie swiftly catches up with Buck as they both dodge a falling rafter.  

    “(Y/N)!” Buck yells, fear evident in his voice. Together the two yell for their teammate as they carefully pick through the flames around them. After what feels like ages, but is only a couple of minutes, Eddie slaps his friend on the shoulder. Pulling him to a stop, he motions for Buck to stop yelling. Barely audible over the flames, a chorus of meows is heard.   

    The two look to each other once again. “Don’t tell me she went back for cats,” Eddie mumbles, shocked.  

    Buck sighs and begins moving toward the sound, “This is (Y/N) we’re talking about. Of course she did.”  

    Finally, they find (Y/N) lying in the corner of whats supposed to be the kitchen. A rafter seems to have swept her off of her feet and is now lying across her ribcage. The area is mostly clear of flames and lying just to the side of (Y/N), as if she had dropped it when she was crushed, is an upturned nylon basket which is the source of the meows. “Help me with this rafter,” Buck urges as he moves towards (Y/N). Together the two lift the rafter off of her and toss it aside. Buck bends down and carefully lifts (Y/N) into his arms and begins heading for an exit. Eddie retrieves the basket of cats and follows.  

    By now, the flames have been subdued and only small flickers are seen scattered across the now demolished building. Buck shakes (Y/N) softly and she begins to wake up. She looks up at him in slight confusion before looking around her. “Wait, wait,” she mumbles, “Put me down, please.” Unwillingly, Buck does so to avoid an elbow or knee to his ribs.   

--- Your POV --- 

    I stop Eddie as he catches up to us and retrieve the basket of cats from him. I look inside to make sure all three kittens and their mother are accounted for and at least breathing before I turn back around to find their owner. I spot the little girl with Hen and her parents and b-line toward them. My legs attempt to give out from under me as my ribs and head throb in pain but I need to do this. I pull my helmet off, tossing it to the ground and stop in front of the little girl. Holding out the basket to her, I offer a small smile. “Oh! Thank you so much! You shouldn’t have!” her mother gasps as she realizes what is inside the soot covered basket.  

    “I don’t know what I would do if I lost one of my fur babies. I wanted to,” I lean closer to the mother as the little girl takes the basket, exploding with joy. “For her sake,” I whisper to the mother and father.   

    The mom pulls me into a tight hug, which makes my ribs riot but I ignore them. She pulls away and places her palm against my cheek, “Thank you so much, honey. You just made this whole ordeal a little better for her.”   

    I offer another smile, “Don’t thank me yet. They’ll need a vet visit asap and,” I lower my voice, “I tried to keep them covered as much as possible with my coat but they got a good bit of smoke exposure. They seem okay now but I’m not sure about the long-term effects,” I pause, “If you catch my drift.”  

    The father nods, “We understand but regardless, thank you.”  

    I smile to both of them before kneeling in front of the little girl who has busied herself with brushing the soot off the still meowing cat and kittens, “You take real good care of them okay?” She nods eagerly as she sets the basket aside and hops down from the gurney. She wraps her small arms around my neck in a tight hug and mumbles a thank you into my shoulder. “You are very welcome, Sweetie.”  

    The little girl lets go and returns to her basket of fluff so I stand and turn around to see Buck waiting a few feet away. He does not look happy and I know I’ll get an earful later. I make my way toward him, and looking back at the little girl with her basket of cats I decide, “It was worth it,” I state firmly to Buck as he meets me and wraps an arm around my shoulders to guide me to the other side of the firetruck out of sight of the family. As soon as we round the corner of the truck, my legs give and Buck has to catch me to keep me from faceplanting the pavement.   

    He picks me up once more before setting me on the side of the truck. He brushes my hair out of my face, “You’re going to give me an aneurysm one of these days.” Bobby, Hen, and Eddie join us before I can muster up a response. By now my ribs feel like they're about to collapse inwards and my head is trying to explode. A bout of dizziness nearly takes me down again but I lean into Buck who has collected a handful of alcohol prep pads to clean the soot off my face and taken a seat beside me.  

    “What’s the damage?” Bobby asks as I do my best to follow the penlight Hen is moving back and forth in my eyes.  

    “Definitely a concussion,” she responds, “Let’s see those ribs.” I suppose Eddie must’ve reported back to them alerting them to my injuries plus he’s pulling an oxygen mask over my face.  

    Bobby nods and holds up my helmet, “Well, that’s not surprising.” I now notice the crack across the visor and cringe. I struggle with my turn out for a moment before Buck slaps my hands away and helps me out of it. I lift my shirt to reveal already bruising ribs.  

    Hen gently feels across my ribs and presses a stethoscope over my lungs. I take a deep breath in as Hen speaks again, “I don’t think they’re broken but definitely heavily bruised.” She pulls the stethoscope away and places it back in her kit before taking a step back to look at me, “I know it’ll be your biggest nightmare but you’re gonna have to take it really easy for the next few weeks.”  

    Buck hooks a finger under my chin and pulls me to face him as I groan. “I know. I know. You’ll live. Now let me get the rest of this mess off so we can bandage these cuts.” Eddie and Bobby depart as I attempt to sit still for Buck but I keep fidgeting and adjusting in an effort to ease the pain in my ribs.   

    Hen laughs but states seriously, “You’re gonna need a CT scan to check for brain bleeds and some X-rays to make sure your ribs aren’t broken and to check for skull fractures.”  

    “I know,” I mumble as she passes Buck some band-aids before closing her kit and returning to the other side of the truck. Buck finishes cleaning my face and begins fighting with the wrapper of a band-aid. His hands are shaking so bad he almost drops it several times before I finally wrap my hands around his and look up at him, “Just breathe, Buck. I’m alive,” I pause, “Very banged up but alive.”  

    His lips press into a thin line and he breaks eye contact to look down at our hands. He lets me have the band-aids so I open one of them before handing it to him for application. As he places it right below my hair line, eyes trained on it and not looking at mine, he mutters something under his breath. I wait for him to place the band-aid and smooth it down before tilting my head, confusion plain to see on my face. He sighs heavily, “I said you scared the shit out of me.” Finally making eye contact with me again he adds, “I can’t lose you. You mean too damn much to me.”  

    I wrap him in a hug, which he promptly returns, and mumble, “I’m sorry.” He buries his face in my neck as I bury mine in his chest and we stay that way for a long moment before finally returning to the task at hand. I open another band-aid and hand it over for him to place on my cheek below the other. “I just figure that the house burning down is pretty shitty but to lose the cats too would be even worse. I know I would’ve been devastated to lose mine,” I explain and he nods in understanding. Once he’s satisfied with my treatment, we both make our way to join the others, Buck keeping an arm at my back in case I start to collapse again.  

    Soon, we all depart and return to the Fire House. I’m carted off to the ER to get a CT scan and X-rays as doc ordered. As expected, the results confirm a concussion but no brain bleeds, skull fractures, or broken ribs.   

    Finally, the weekend is here and I am spending my Saturday night at Maddie and Chim’s house with Maddie, Athena, Hen, and Karen. By now my concussion is gone for the most part but my ribs are still pretty sore. My fellow ladies are all taking it easy, having a beer or glass of wine. I on the other hand have managed to get sloshed even though they have repeatedly warned me to slow down. Who knows what trouble Buck and Eddie are getting into tonight but Chim is at Bobby and Athena’s house with Jee-Yun for cooking lessons.   

    I’m currently sprawled out on my back in Maddie’s living room floor babbling on and on. Most of it is drunken non-sense but soon I find myself on a train of thought that I’m not quite sure I should be voicing aloud but drunk me has lost all fucks to give. As soon as the first sentence stumbles out of my mouth, “You know who I really really like?” the ladies are all on the edges of their seats. Hen has even pulled out her phone and started recording but I couldn’t care less. I need to get this off my chest and it’s about fucking time. I might as well carry on while I have the guts. “Buck,” I pause trying but failing to collect my thoughts and decide to simply ramble on as the room wobbles, “He’s just so fucking sweet. He’s got the largest and shiniest heart of gold I’ve ever seen. He’s hilarious as fuck… And adorable… And fine as hell… He makes me feel safe… and happy… and giddy.”  

    I sit up abruptly and wobble slightly before looking at the nearest person, who just happens to be Maddie, “And I don’t know what the hell the whole knee nudge thing is that he does,” I point to Hen, “You know what I’m talking about. That thing he does whenever he’s sitting beside me where he just like nudges my knee with his,” The room starts to spin so I lay back down and look up at the ceiling, “I-I don’t know what that is. I don’t know if he does it as a funny funny ha ha. Or if he does it to aggravate me. Which it did at first because I couldn’t figure out why he was doing it but I finally gave up and just started nudging back. But anyway, I don’t know why he does it but I hope he never stops… It always reminds me that he’s right there… It reminds me that I’m not alone, that someone will have my back if I’m about to do stupid shit or be there if I need a shoulder to lean on. It makes me feel safe.” I come to a halt and shuffle through the thoughts in my head.  

    “And another fucking thing. His fucking biceps, dude. They’re damn near as big as my head. Sometimes I just wanna,” I click my teeth together, “bite them. Actually, next time he hits me with the ‘Bite me, (Y/L/N)’… I’ma do it.” I stop to catch my breath and a sudden realization hits me, “I think I fucked up,” I slur out.  

    “Yeah, honey, you’re pretty wasted,” Athen says with laughter.  

    “No. No I said I fucked up,” I correct her, assuming she thought I said, “I think I’m fucked up.”  

    “You mean by drinking so much?” Hen asks,” Yeah, probably so.”  

    I see Maddie shake her head with a grin out of the corner of my eye and I inquire, “What?”  

    “Elaborate. They haven’t put two and two together yet,” she replies.  

    I huff, “I said, ‘I think I fucked up’ because I told myself I was not gonna fall in love again because my luck with relationships is so damn shitty but I think I done fell in love with him and I’m scared.”  

    “Why are you scared, sweetheart,” Karen asks.  

    “Because I don’t wanna get hurt again,” I mumble before quickly adding, “It’s not that I think he’s gonna hurt me. It’s just… conditioning ya know? Like, anytime things are going good for a while, my body kicks into fight or flight thinking something bad is about to happen because that’s always what happens. I always get steamrolled and knocked down a peg. I don’t wanna rope him into the shit show that is my life. He deserves someone that has their shit together. Someone who can give him the world. That’s what he deserves… not someone who’s gonna expect shit to go south from the start.” The room is silent as this explanation sinks in.   

    I hear the beep of Hen stopping the recording as Maddie gets up from the couch and bends down to grab my arm and help me up, “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” I nod as she guides me toward a spare bedroom.  

--- Buck's POV ---

    “How’s (Y/N) doing?” I hear Eddie ask from the kitchen as I sit sipping my whiskey. Chris has already gone to bed for the night and Eddie is putting away leftovers from dinner.  

    Having not fully processed what he asked due to the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream I drop my head onto the back of the chair I’m sitting in and grin, “She’s just so beautiful.”  

    Eddie pokes his head around the wall and looks at me in confusion, “What?’  

    “You asked about (Y/N). She’s pretty… and smart… She’s funny too.”  

    Eddie waves his hand to interrupt me and sits down on the couch across from me, pulling out his phone, “Hang on what were you saying about (Y/N) I couldn’t hear you through your mumbles.”  

    I know damn well I wasn’t mumbling but repeat myself anyway, “I said, ‘She’s pretty and smart and funny,’” making sure to over-annunciate my words.  

    “Go on,” Eddie encourages, grinning at his phone.  

    I shake my head and carry on, “She’s always down for an adventure. She’s self-less. Like, as much as I want to be mad at her for risking her life to save those cats the other day, I can’t be because I know I’d do the same damn thing. She’d risk her life just to make sure someone else's doesn't end or is a little brighter despite the catastrophe they’ve just endured.” I sigh loudly, “I could watch her dance around like a goof ball or ramble about random shit for hours. Her smile makes me smile. Her laugh makes me laugh.”  

    “Really?” Eddie asks to keep me going.  

    I nod, “And you know how I nudge her knee with mine all the time?” Eddie nods, “It started out as just a way to annoy her when I was bored but now it’s way more than that. Now it’s a gentle reminder to her that I’m still right there by her side but also a reminder to myself that she’s right there within arm's reach. I-I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. I thought I did when I looked behind us and she wasn’t there. If I had lost her that day then not only would I no longer be able to enjoy her presence but i-it would’ve been my fault. I should’ve pulled up the rear and made sure she got out safe.”  

    “Don’t blame yourself, Buck. You know she would’ve gone back for the cats anyway,” Eddie comments.  

    “I know but like I said that’s one of the things I love about her,” I pause, “Love. Did I just say love?” I see him nod, “Man, I think I’m in love.” It’s quiet for a few moments before I breath out a laugh, “She has a really nice ass too.”   

    Eddie shakes his head and puts his phone away, “Alright buddy,” he says as he gets up and pulls the glass of whiskey from my grasp, “Time for you to hit the hay.” I begrudgingly get up and Eddie helps me to the couch.  

    “Wait,” I slur out once I’ve plopped onto the couch, and try to get back up but Eddie pushes me back down, “But I wanna go see her,” I whine but as the room wobbles, I give up and lie back down.  

    “You can see her tomorrow. We’re having family breakfast at Athena and Bobby’s remember?” Eddie responds.  

    “Oh yeah,” I mumble before drifting off to sleep. 

Masterlist

More 911

[dotster001]

Are you ok with writing alcohol related stuff? I think it would be funny to have a drunk headmaster complain to reader about all the work and mischievous students while reader tries to calm him down and just get him to drink water because fae apparently do not have a superior tolerance. OR on the opposite: reader gets drunk and Crowley has to deal with us now maybe we get him flustered too >:)

(hey nonnie I finally finished it. I seriously debated waiting until my birthday so I could be like, "the US government says I can drink now!" But luckily for both of us, I got hit with the inspiration bug. I hope it's everything you dreamed edit; I just realized I combined your two ideas into one...oops I went flustered crowman route)

Drugged Up Reader Addition from 300 Followers event

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

CW: excessive drinking, black out from drinking

Fae were known to hold their liquor extraordinarily well. A bottle? Three? Bah! That didn't matter at all to the fae! Besides, he deserved to treat himself after putting up with shenanigans all day.

Four bottles……

Yeah, so Crowley was on his sixth bottle of a 300 year old wine of excellent vintage, when fate decided it was time for you to come to his office. Naturally, as the cool, collected, fabulous headmage he was, all he had to do was play it cool, and you'd never know.

"Greetings Prefect! What can I do ya for?" Yep. You'd never know.

Had he been more sober, he would have noticed that you were soaking wet and covered in dust and plaster bits. But since he didn't notice, he was able to not notice this fact, as you sat across from him with a frustrated huff.

"The shower in Ramshackle exploded," you scowled. "Any chance, in all your generosity, that there is some budget for a new one?" 

"But of course!" He stood up, gesturing wildly. You couldn't hide your shock, which made him laugh, as he leaned over his desk to squish your face between his palms.

"My dearest, squishiest, prefect. Whatever you want, I shall give you!" 

Suddenly, you gasped. "Are you drunk?"

He let go of your face and scoffed, illustrating the six empty bottles on his desk.

"Nonsense, my dear, the fae don't get drunk. As you can see, I have only consumed ten bottles…"

"There's only six here, though," you interrupted, becoming nervous for his health.

"Ah! You're right! I still have four more bottles to consume! You must join me Y/N!"

"I don't think I should…."

He kept over his desk with surprising dexterity, and gently slotted himself in your lap, nuzzling his cheek against yours like a cat.

"C'mon Y/N, I'd hate to drink alone. I'd be sooooo lonely without you…like before…" his eyes were suddenly elsewhere, and he froze in your lap.

Then he started tearing up, crying into your collar.

"Please don't leave me, Y/N!" He sobbed.

You began running your hands through his hair worriedly, trying to calm him down.

"Do you mean, like right this moment, or in general?" You asked, mildly amused with yourself.

"Yes," he whimpered. You had no idea how the giant crow man was able to make himself look so small in your lap, but it was making your heart melt.

"Okay, I won't leave then," you said, hoping that it would calm him a little.

He looked up at you, suddenly no longer crying, eyes full of total adoration. 

"I love you Y/N. It's time you know that," he breathed, moving closer to your lips.

Then he blacked out.

                                ….

Crowley opened his eyes, and immediately shut them again with a groan. The lights in his room were too bright, and his head hurt, and….wait. He didn't remember going to his room last night.

"Ah, sleeping beauty has finally awoken," that was your voice, but what were you doing in his room?

He opened his eyes, and slowly sat up. You were sitting in a chair next to his bed, holding a book and, great sevens, wearing his clothes.

"Why are you here?" He asked cautiously.

"You blacked out on me, and I had to drag you to your room. You're surprisingly heavy, you know. Are you hiding muscles under all those layers?"

He scoffed, ready to tell you about how someone of his station had to stay in good shape, until he fully processed what you had said.

"How generous of you to bring me to my room," he croaked. "But why," he swallowed thickly, "why are you wearing a set of my clothes?" Not that he'd complain. They looked good on you.

You raised a single eyebrow. "My shower exploded, remember? My clothes were all wet and dirty, and I didn't want to ruin your furniture, so I kind of just grabbed something from your closet." Your grin turned downright evil. "Wait, do you not remember anything from last night?" 

You giggled. He loved that giggle, but right now he was filled with pure terror.

"I have an excellent memory, prefect," he scowled, trying to play it off. But it was clearly too late. You knew.

You stood up, and approached him. You squished his cheeks with your palms.

"So you remember this then?"

He loved your smile, but right now he wanted to wipe it off your face. You'd left him in his clothes, thank goodness, so you couldn't see his reddening cheeks under his mask. He'd never been more grateful for anything.

"Of course I remember," he said, composure disappearing fast.

"Then you remember this?" You crawled into his lap, and buried you face in his collar. He stiffened, afraid if he breathed you would disappear.

"Ye…yes."

"Okay," you grinned wickedly, "so you'll remember this then." You leaned into his ear and whispered, "I love you, Y/N." 

He was going to have what humans called a heart attack. Had he really said that last night? He'd kept it buried for so long….

"If you remember that, you'll definitely remember this," you leaned in as though to kiss him, but pulled away and left his lap at the last second. He involuntarily let out a whine, making you giggle. 

"And that's when you passed out."

He was on his feet in seconds pulling you tightly to him, directing your chin so you face him.

"Kiss me," he whispered breathlessly.

"That's not what happened," now that he was fighting back, you were starting to look flustered. Good. You deserved it.

"I'll give you whatever you want if you kiss me," he said, confidence steadily growing now that the ball was back in his court.

"Whatever I want? Hmmm…" you said thoughtfully, then leaned in to kiss him. He nibbled along your bottom lip, causing you to gasp, and allowing him to deepen the kiss. After several breathless moments, you pulled away from him entirely.

"Whatever I want," you muttered to yourself, and made to leave the room. As you pulled open the door, you called over your shoulder, "Fix my damned shower."

...

Tag list: @stygianoir

[trillscienceofficer]

I think it's actually quite interesting to see “Someone To Watch Over Me” still considered among the Voyager best (needless to say, I disagree!) Here are two perspectives, one ‘unofficial’ from shortly after the episode aired, and another more official for the show's 25th anniversary, which just ends up borrowing from the former, by then already 20-ish years old, source!

from Cinefantastique Vol 31 #11, April 2000

from Star Trek: Voyager - A Celebration (2020)

Transcription under the cut:

From Cinefantastique:

MY FAIR BORG Behind-the-scenes of fifth season's “Someone To Watch Over Me.”

By Anna Kaplan

When thinking back on VOYAGER’S fifth season, executive producer Brannon Braga enthused, “One of my favorites of the year is ‘Someone to Witch Over Me’, the Doctor-Seven show. It’s very, very charming, and heartbreaking." In the episode, Seven finally decides to go on a date, and the Doctor coaches her on proper etiquette. Along the way, the Doctor realizes he is falling in love with Seven.

Noted scripter Michael Taylor, who worked from a story by Braga, “When an action show finds that it can do a comedy, it’s gained a certain level of confidence in its actors, in its writing staff, just in a general sense of what the show is about, that it can loosen up a bit." Enthused Jeri Ryan, “Even the editors were coming up to me on the set and saying, ‘This never happens, but everyone was coming in out of the other editing room, and stopping what they were doing and watching this show while we were cutting it together.’ They said it was just so charming that everybody loved it.”

Robert Duncan McNeill, who plays Tom Paris, directed the show. “It was a very unusual episode for STAR TREK, because it’s a very traditional romantic comedy,” he said. “I have to admit, when I first read it I was a little nervous. I thought, this is not what someone would expect from a STAR TREK show. But the response has just been incredible. A lot of people are saying it’s going to be one of our best episodes. It’s got the Doctor and Seven of Nine in a kind of MY FAIR LADY situation, with the Doctor trying to teach Seven about love, and improve her social skills, and in the process finds himself having feelings for her.”

In a subplot Ethan Phillips as Neelix gives a tour of the ship to a repressed alien monk, played by Scott Thompson of KIDS IN THE HALL. “We want to get something from his race,” said Phillips. “They arc a highly moral race, and before they can give it, we have to make sure that they sec us as an equally moral race. I am entrusted to show him our ship and all our functions, so that he can assess our righteousness. The guy turns out to be a lush, and a complete drunk. It’s kind of like that movie with Peter O’Toole, MY FAVORITE YEAR; the guy is entrusted with keeping him sober. It's a funny part and a really neat role.”

McNeill continued, “I really enjoyed working with Bob. He never gets tired of figuring out new ideas, and funny moments, and quirky things to do. Jeri found, I think, a different kind of humanity in Seven of Nine than we have seen before, a real kind of child-like sense of humor in her character. Seven and Bob sing together in a real nice, little moment."

McNeill added, “The ending wasn’t written when we shot the whole episode. When the whole script wasn’t written, we were just sort of making it up, shooting it as it was being written. It’s very hard to plan ahead and say, ‘You don’t want to give away too much in this moment. You want to save it for the end when you realize your feelings.’ It definitely kept us on our toes, kept us aware of how much we were telling, in what order we were telling the story, and not to have the Doctor fall in love with Seven in Act One, to really find the whole journey, and fill it out fully. It’s a real actors' show, so I felt particularly excited, being an actor, to work on a show that really depended on the performances and the subtleties that the actors could bring to it.”

What about the end? Said McNeill, “Because it’s two series regulars that are playing around with love, that’s always a very dangerous subject. If you go too far with it, you’ve got to live with the consequences. If you are not ready to deal with it on an ongoing basis on the series, then you have to be really careful with how far you go.”

The ending was filmed some time after primary shooting finished. Laughed Robert Picardo, “This episode is like the movie CASABLANCA, because we shot it without knowing what the end will be. It’s like shooting a romantic story, without knowing the payoff. But CASABLANCA turned out pretty well. I’m hoping that we will be equally fortunate.” The writers chose not to reveal the Doctor’s feelings to Seven. At the end, the Doctor is alone at Sandrine's, playing the Gershwin tune “Someone to Watch Over Me.”

****

from Star Trek: Voyager - A Celebration:

SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME

SEASON 5 EPISODE 22

AIR DATE: APRIL 28, 1999

Teleplay by Michael Taylor

Story by Brannon Braga

Directed by Robert Duncan McNeill

Synopsis The Doctor teaches Seven about dating, then realizes he may have feelings for her himself.

One of the most popular episodes of VOYAGER is a bottle show, with the captain barely seen and no serious peril, unless failed diplomacy and a broken holographic heart count.

That Robert Picardo's EMH was going to be standout character was obvious from his first scene in VOYAGER's pilot episode. Three seasons later Jeri Ryan's Seven of Nine revitalized the show with her debut. Pairing them proved to be a magic formula.

The Doctor established himself as a mentor for Seven, helping her come to terms with her humanity, a complement to Captain Janeway's maternal approach. The on-screen rapport between the two was self-evident. Ryan agrees: “I loved any of my scenes with Bob Picardo's character the Doctor. I love their dynamic. He's a delightful human being to work with and be around anyway, So that was always fun.”

In season 5's ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’, when Seven reveals a curiosity about human mating behaviour, the Doctor eagerly a lesson plan for her first steps into romantic relationships. His class is initially played for laughs. with the Doctor performing a farcical interpretive dance in front Or the image of an ovum. When Tom Paris adds his own input, he turns the tuition into a wager, which the Doctor happily agrees to. However, when Seven discovers that she is the subject of a bet she is genuinely hurt, leaving the Doctor to realize how insensitive he has been.

If the plot seems familiar, it is. “It's My Fair Lady with Seven,” cowriter Brannon Braga smiles. “‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ is one of my favorites. I thoroughly enjoyed writing that episode." Cowriter Michael Taylor summed up the setup. “Putting those two characters together in that episode, it's not the blind leading the blind, but it's the partially sighted learning from each other and also standing apart from the rest of humanity.”

A key early scene has the Doctor select a tune for Seven to sing. which she does with aplomb. Taylor said, “I remember walking around with all these ideas I had for what the song should be, and Brannon just picked this much simpler song, which was all that was needed to really focus their interaction.” The Doctor and Seven perform a duet of the much-covered 1939 ditty, ‘You Are My Sunshine’ which elicits a look of pride, or first hint of love on the Doctor's face. The story was becoming more than an amusing look at Seven's clumsy dating efforts, though her at dinner with Lieutenant Chapman at Chez Sandrine was a comedy highlight.

This episode marked cast member Robbie McNeill's third stint in the director's chair. “That was one of my favorite episodes to direct,” he says. "It had more comedy than we'd typically have. It had rom-com silliness. reached out to some actors who were very good friends of mine play some of the supporting roles that Seven went on dates with: Brian McNamara (Chapman and David Burke (who played the hologram Steven Price) Was one of my best friends and a wonderful actor."

The parallel story involving Neelix's ordeal with visiting Kadi ambassador was also farcical. "That was the episode where we had the comic actor from The Kids in the Hall [Scott Thompson]." McNeill continues. "He was the alien that came on board. the Drunk Monk We cast an actor who had a lot of comedy chops. It was one of the better light-hearted, but also really meaningful and heartfelt episodes."

The story shows just how versatile VOYAGER could be. It's a romantic comedy involving an artificial intelligence teaching a former Borg drone how to be human. There are no action sequences or alien threats and yet it is one of the series' best stories.

“There is nothing wrong with that episode,” Braga says. He was particularly pleased with one shot. “The Doctor realize he's in love with Seven of Nine and that she isn't in love him, when she's singing. Robbie McNeil does this when shes nice little push in to the Doctor as she's singing ‘You Are My Sunshine”—a great moment. That wasn't planned and you know it kind of ended there for most part, unrequited.”

The ending for the episode was yet to be written when shooting began, leaving the director and crew having to wing it. McNeill remembers, “It definitely kept us on our toes, kept us aware of how much we were telling, in what order we were telling the story, and not to have the Doctor falling love with Seven in Act One, to really find the whole journey. and fill it out fully.”

On the last scene between the Doctor and Seven Jeri Ryan reflects, "I thought that was so lovely and so touching. [The end] just broke my heart.” The conclusion is deliberately subdued as the writers were not planning to develop a romance between the Doctor and Seven of Nine. And so, the Doctor returns to holo program Paris 3 Chez Sandrine for what would be a final visit, to perform the title tune for the episode—‘Won't you tell her please to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh, how I need someone to watch over me.”

[yanderu-deredere]

sinker.

★ you are served an absolutely stellar dinner by an equally stellar couple. you don't know if it's the wine or the something else but you feel like something is going on between you, casimir and emm? maybe you needed to clear your head

a/n: THIS IS THE SMUT CHAPTER LOL i edited this authors note to say this becos this originally said something else but just wanted to warn yall that no, this is actually the smut chapter

also lol i was writing this after i wrote the smut for the werewolves and i realised?? HELLO? what is UP with me and inhebriated readers lmaooo? so i changed it a little bit so that reader sobers up a bit but still the warning is there cus they have a couple glasses of wine

neway, almost didn't post this today but someone commented on the last chapter's tags about how much they loved 'tall beefy woman' and 'tall beefy man'. unfortunately, tho casimir isn't as beefy, he definitely has his own muscles! hope you specifically enjoy! you know who you are

part one (hook.) ★ part two (line.) ★ part three (here) ★ extras (captive.) ★ part four (drawn.) ★ part five (quartered.)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 2821

warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attracted to males and females, readers friends just continue to suck and not in the fun way, reader gets a crush? interesting, mentions of emm's burn scars, final ship is poly

You sighed as you stepped out of the house, the rush of the rain sounding a little bit like a calming static to your ears.

Of course, the last thing you wanted to do was to get wet so you kept under the porch roof. You just wanted a breath of fresh air, something that wasn't the suffocating air around your friends and the couple inside.

The inside of the house wasn't exactly stuffy to you but it felt way way too hot and there was a cool breeze outside that helped at least make your cheeks feel less warm.

What was with you?

You just didn't understand why you suddenly felt so flustered around a married couple.

Maybe Bran was right. Maybe you were a freak?

Or maybe it was the wine. But you weren't a light weight and you'd never gotten drunk over something like this before so you didn't understand why you'd get drunk like this now.

Maybe it really was just because Emm was a beautiful buff woman and Casimir was a sexy svelte man... Was that your type?

You let out a sigh that turned into a warm fog in the cold air outside.

You heard the door behind you creak but you didn't look behind you, just kept your arms crossed and your eyes trained on the looming factory across the road.

"You okay? You kind of rushed out there." Emm put something around your shoulders and you quickly realised it was some sort of cardigan "Casimir says thanks for helpin' with the dishes and with cookin'."

"I swear it tasted even better than usual--"

Before you could even stop yourself, you turned around and pressed your lips onto Emm's. You were about to pull back but, then, you felt her hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close.

Her kiss was gentle, almost sweet, but her tongue licked at your lips and you let her in almost immediately.

When she finally pulled away, your breaths both came out as soft clouds, her eyes frantically searching yours like she was hoping there was an answer in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry--"

That wasn't the answer she was looking for. She looked disappointed or sad, something in between. Either way, her shoulders sagged a little but she nodded slowly "I un'erstand, don' worry 'bout it."

"Cas'll pro'ly wonder 'bout us." She turned to leave and, God, did your heart ache.

You put a hesitant hand on her upper arm, your thumb tracing the wrinkled burn as comfortingly as you could "I'm really sorry, I-i don't want to get in the middle of-of you a-and your husband--"

"An-And what if we want you to get in the middle?" Emm moved fast because she was suddenly turning back to you, her hands at your upper arms, that hopeful expression back on her face again "Biblically?"

It took you a second but, when her words clicked, you laughed. You leaned against her, your forehead against her collar, and you laughed.

She didn't seem offended because she cradled you close, her hand carding through your hair and her other hand tracing your spine, like she was scared you'd disappear if she stopped touching you in any way.

"Cas told me you had nothin' but a degree waitin' for you back at home." She leaned a little closer, back bowing so she could whisper in your ear, like saying her words too loudly would jinx her somehow.

"Maybe... maybe after your degree, you could... come here? We could pick you up. I know it's a mighty long trek but... oh, darlin'." She sighed, all dreamy and soft. "You're worth the longest trek there is."

Your heart beat out your chest at the thought of the two thinking you were worth so much. After everyone in your life putting you down, after being put last for everything, it was so surreal to have someone think you were worth so much.

"But-- what would we be?" You couldn't help but ask, still confused about what exactly she wanted from you "A-And why me?"

"I don't know why you, darlin', but I knew the second I saw you. Just seein' you there, peerin' out that window. I knew I fell in love with you." She confessed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"As for what we would be..." Emm trailed off before shrugging and just pulling you impossibly closer "I don't know, sweetness. We'd be whatever you want us to be."

"I know Cas don't know how to say his feelin's sometimes but he feels the same as me." She pressed another kiss against your temple, closer to the corner of your eye "And he'd be happy to have another spouse. The both of us are."

You were struck speechless for a second before you nodded slowly, nose rubbing against the skin of her neck. With a soft sigh, you smiled "I'd at least like to give it a try."

Then, you pulled away far enough from Emm to look her in the face, mischievous smirk on your face "And I wouldn't be opposed to... uh, getting in between the two of you. Biblically speaking, that is."

Now that you were directly looking at Emm, you could see the way her face flushed when you spoke to her. But, unlike you, she didn't look shy at all.

In fact, her eyes darkened and, though she definitely looked flustered, there was a hungry expression on her face.

Before you could do anything else, she pressed forward and kissed you, her fingers in your hair tightening.

You whimpered at the feeling of her pulling at your hair but you kissed her back anyway, your hands clawing at her clothes, trying desperately to pull her close.

"We shou'get Cas." Emm looked like it took everything in her to pull away from you but, when you hesitantly nodded, she strengthened her resolve and lifted you into her arms.

You squealed, surprised by her strength, your arms tightening around her neck. She just kept her grip tight around your waist and under your knees.

"Geez, warn someone before you sweep them off their feet." You sighed but, from the cheeky expression on her face, you didn't think Emm felt apologetic at all.

Still, she pressed a kiss to your forehead as an apology before practically kicking the front door open and striding in like she she had nothing better to do than to pin you down and ravish you.

In fairness, that was probably true.

"What's wrong?" Cas hurried over, worried expression on his face as he dropped the dish cloth in his hands.

His green eyes searched all over you, trying to find some sort of injury. Since there wasn't one, you just cupped his cheek and gently led his face towards yours.

He didn't need convincing. He immediately kissed you; his kiss was much more hurried and sharp than Emm's soft and sweet one. He was all teeth and tongue, sloppy and wet.

When he pulled away, he panted "What was that for?"

"Where's her friends?" Emm answered for you, gesturing to the stairs.

"They are still in their rooms. No sign of them coming out." Casimir straightened himself, brushing off his shirt before unceremoniously palming his hardon through his jeans.

It wasn't as obvious, probably because they were jeans, but you figured the small tent was his cock. Did he get hard just from kissing you?

Emm certainly didn't need any prompting when she noticed what you noticed because she was racing up the stairs, steps silent as she took them two at a time.

You tried to listen as the two of you passed by the second floor but you didn't hear your friends.

Hopefully they were asleep because you honestly didn't want to hear it from them about how much of a freak you were. In fact, maybe you would rub this in their faces in the morning.

Or, maybe, that was just the courage your horniness was giving you.

You couldn't give it much more of a thought because, before long, Emm was laying you down on their bed, her lips back on yours, her forearms on either side of your head as she caged you under her muscular body.

You let her lead the kiss and it was just as gentle and sweet as before, her lips moving like a soft dance between the two of you.

When she pulled away, she straddled you, watching you like a predator that's pinned down a meal, her eyes dark and her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

You couldn't find it in yourself to be scared.

"Fuck, the two of you are going to be the death of me." Casimir groaned, standing beside the bed with the most enamoured expression on his face.

Emm just chuckled and removed her shirt on one swift motion. She was still wearing that black lacy number you saw her wearing earlier and, honestly, the memory made your cheeks hot.

When you looked to Casimir, he was half undressed, a knowing look on his face like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

That just made you more flustered.

Though, maybe it was that or it was looking at Casimir undressed, the way he looked under his clothes. You didn't realised how muscular he was. He wasn't anything like Emm but he definitely wasn't a beanpole either.

"C'mon, then, darl', we don't got all night." Emm was suddenly falling back, pulling you with her.

You fell on top of her, your hands on either side of her. Your face flushed when you realised that, while you were ogling at her husband, she must've removed the rest of her clothes.

You sat in her lap, your hands shyly cupping her breasts, your thumbs playing with her nipples. Your eyes immediately looked to her for approval, your teeth biting at your lower lip.

Surprisingly, she looked just as shy as you.

"Sorry, haven't been with anyone other than this bozo since the, uh, accident." She explained, probably because she saw the confusion in your expression.

Then, she took one of your wrists into her hand, frown on her face. You looked down and realised that one of her breasts was a little bit smaller, with the same burns as the rest of her arm, shoulder and face on that side.

"I didn't even notice." You quickly told her, a loving smile on your face as you leaned down to place soft butterfly kisses among her burn scars "You're so beautiful, Emm."

Emm's other hand flew to her face, her hand covering her mouth. Finally, you saw her look at you, looking even more shy and flustered than before instead of confident and determined.

It made you feel just a little bit victorious.

"Don't forget about me." You felt a hand glide against your hip, up your shirt "You know, you haven't taken off your clothes. Naughty~~"

You sighed forlornly, like the last thing you wanted was to take your hands off of Emm. She placated you by pressing a chaste kiss against your lips before she was pulling off your bottoms and your underwear.

Casimir helped you from behind, removing everything from the waist up.

"And you callin' me beautiful? When you're this gorgeous?" It was Emm's turn to sigh as her hands explored your body, a lot like yours explored hers

Her hands started from your waist, sliding up to your chest, her thumbs playing with your nipples. Your back automatically bent back just to stick it out a bit more, urging her to play with them a bit more.

Casimir, on the other hand, was behind you, his hands cupping the insides of your thighs and pulling them apart.

"Fuck, are you sure?" Casimir muttered against the shell of your ear, his hips rutting against your lower back, his grip on the fat of your thighs only tightening.

You nodded frantically, like if they stopped right now, you'd die

"Bend forward a lil." Emm scooted back and you followed her like a moth to a flame, your lips searching for hers.

Of course, she obliged happily, kissing you in that same saccharine way you were growing more and more addicted to, this time her tongue tracing along your lips.

You let her slip into your mouth, let her deepen the kiss as her fingers threaded through your hair to pull you even closer.

When she had pulled you closer, though, you had ended up bending forward a little and, apparently, Casimir used that as an opportunity to play with you.

You heard the squirt of something and, immediately, you identified it as lube because you felt the chill of it dripping against your entrance.

You whimpered feebly into Emm's mouth but she didn't let you pull away from her. In fact, she just used it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss even more. She was practically eating you alive, her kiss less sweet and more hot.

That's when Casimir rubbed the lube all over your entrance with his fingers. Then, gently, almost methodically, he worked a finger in, slowly wiggling it to the first and then the second and then the last knuckle.

You moaned when you felt it go to the hilt before pulling out.

"Emm, you should see this." Casimir laughed almost meanly "What a fucking slut. They're dripping down here. Absolutely obscene."

Emm didn't say anything, didn't pull away. But you could tell she was tempted because her grip on your hair tightened considerably, making you whimper again.

Then, since you took the first finger just fine, Casimir worked a second and a third just as easily, just as methodically.

You kept moaning and whining, of course, that coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust of his fingers.

Finally, Emm pulled away from the kiss and the two of you stared at each other for a bit, your foreheads pressed against each other, little soft huffs and groans leaving your lips.

"Cas'mir." You practically whimpered "Emmm."

You didn't know about Casimir but it definitely did something for Emm because she looked at you like you gave her everything she ever wanted on a silver platter.

She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before leaning a bit more forward to press kisses to your neck.

Those kisses, unfortunately, turned into bites and hickeys. Not that you were complaining, of course, but you weren't looking forward to explaining them later in the morning either.

Finally, it was too much and your back bowed, your entire body crumpling as an orgasm wracked your brain and made you almost scream.

"Oh, what a good darlin'."

"A good slut's more like it."

Then, before you could even recover, you were being pushed up against something-- Casimir's chest? You looked up to see that Emm was looking at you with that hunger in her eyes again.

You lifted your arms up, gesturing for her to come close. She swooped down, of course happy enough to oblige. You couldn't even press a kiss to her lips before you felt Casimir pressing into you, his cock spreading your walls open.

You let out a small strangled groan, your head thrown back to rest against Casimir's shoulder.

"Oh, fuck, now that's a hole I can cum in." Casimir pressed his cheek against your temple and moaned, his slender fingers suddenly cupping the front of your neck.

You whimpered, happy to offer your neck to him, before whimpering even louder when you felt someone's (Casimir? Maybe Emm?) hands back in your hair, pulling it so that your head bent back even more and your back arched further.

You were so overwhelmed, so full of both pain and pleasure, that your brain felt like it was leaking out of your hole. Or was the saying 'out of your ears'?

"Cas'mir." You elected to moan instead, tilting your head towards the man. He answered your pathetic little moan with a soft kiss to your lips, placating you temporarily before his hips drew back and he started fucking you earnestly.

You couldn't even worry about whether or not your friends could hear you. Your hands were held at the wrists by someone (Both wrists in one hand?) and your mouth felt too loose.

What was happening?

You came again, your eyes screwing shut this time as your hips jutted helplessly. Someone had a hold on you though, pressing you into the relentless fucking of Casimir's thrusts.

"Don' worry, darl', we got you." Emm leaned into your other ear, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple "Just let us take care of you all night."

It was going to be a long night.