#he’d been thinking about taking thing to a next level for a few weeks already

[hel7l7]

Good news! I made art yesterday. Still gonna scan it and queue it on here. But there’s stuff coming :)

[strawberrygummiess]

anemone.

azul ashengrotto x gender neutral! reader 4.6k words cross posted on ao3 "Can I request Azul x reader where after a trip into town the reader is begging Azul for a few shifts at the most to lounge? Turns out in a little shop they found what looks to be a replica of their mom’s wedding ring and they miss their parents so much. Who cares if it’s not real gold or fake diamonds? It looks like home and they’re willing to slave just to get it. Azul can’t turn away tears now can he?"

Everyone knew you were short on money.

You had become one of the most notorious penny pinchers on campus, although, it wasn’t your fault.  Crowley’s “generosity” could only take you so far before you had to be creative. Brand new, dubious tuna-based dishes; impractical fixes for your household wares; sewing and resewing every hole in your uniform; and of course, finding jobs anywhere they’d take you.

This was easier said than done, of course. As much as you’d love to go into town and find a stable part-time job, you could only get so far into the application process before it became very apparent that you were not from this world. And you suspected that an unknown person coming in and out of Night Raven College gates with zero records of their existence was not a scandal that Crowley (or you, for that matter) was equipped to handle. Not that anyone would let you starve to death, you had more food-related gifts than you could handle. It made you grateful for Grim’s never-ending stomach. The food was nice, but it wasn’t everything. What you really needed was a steady income.

If you can’t get a job in town, you would have to get the next best thing: The Mostro Lounge. The students who worked there always bragged about the pretty paychecks they earned every two weeks. Who cared that they looked ragged every day? You needed that money.

And that’s why you were here, deep in Octavinelle dorm, begging Azul for a position at the Mostro Lounge. You needed money. Your dorm was falling apart. Your clothes had holes in them. You were just so tired of eating tuna. Anything to garner some sympathy.

He didn’t need to know the real reason. That you’ve been eyeing up in the jewelry shop in town. That you were desperate to buy a ring that looked eerily similar to your mother’s wedding ring. That you were grasping for any reminder of your home. Because that would be embarrassing. And a prime opportunity to get manipulated by Azul. And you had already done that song and dance.

So now, here you were, nervously bouncing your leg while you waited for his response. He seemed to be mulling the idea over, seemingly thinking of a way to trick you into getting the short end of the stick. He hummed an unrecognizable tune while he filed through his contracts, finishing the task he started before you arrived, occasionally peering over his glasses to look at you. You were undeniably anxious, fidgety, and uncomfortable: the prime emotional state to agree to a dodgy deal.

“Now Prefect, do calm down,” Azul mused, placing his chin in his hand after he finished his sorting. He watched as you settled your leg and gave him a tense smile. Despite his confident demeanor, he knew he had to tread carefully here. You were a delicate case.

On the one hand, you were smart. You had already bested him once before, and he knew you were entirely capable of doing it again. You also wouldn’t sign any old contract, even with this out-of-character desperation. On the other hand, Azul couldn’t say he’d seen this level of distress from you before. Especially about your “money problems”.

As smart as you were, he was no fool. Something was up. He just didn’t know what.

“I understand you’re looking for a part-time serving job. The Mostro Lounge is always looking for new talent, however- “

“It’s crucial that I get this job.”

Azul tsks at your interruption before leaning back in his chair. You can see it on his face. Annoyance, frustration. A hint of confusion if you knew what to look for. Nothing pleasant. The smile on his face didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. Less patient.

“Now, now Prefect, I know your work ethic. I am not against hiring you per se. I just ask for a little… transparency amongst my employees. I’m a fair and equitable boss, I only want to help you.”

Your leg began to bounce again.

“C’mon Azul, you remember what Ramshackle was like. It hasn’t gotten much better. And look- “You hold up your arm to reveal the miserable patch you scrapped together with what remained of your curtains. Your blazer had more mismatched patches than linen at this point.

“Your clothes are ruined, and you’re looking to eat something a bit different this week, yes, yes, I know this one.” Azul finishes. His stare is pointed. “However, this is how it’s always been. And never have I seen you so desperate to pick up shifts. Is there something going on? You know I can help you without sending you to work.”

Fat chance. You know his game. You’d allow him to “help” you and then be stuck as an errand boy indefinitely. You were already Crowley’s servant. You weren’t too keen to be someone else’s. You gingerly lower your arm and take a moment to decide on your answer. The whole truth was out of the question, of course, but you could afford to tell him a little bit. Just enough to get him off your case.

“It’s nothing you don’t already know about, like you said. I’m just… tired of living this way. It’d be nice to have extra cash, so I don’t have to complain constantly. That’s all.” You settle. It wasn’t a lie. You needed extra cash anyway. You were just going to use it for a non-essential.

Well, a non-essential to everyone else.

Azul hums in approval before swiveling his chair around to the filing cabinet behind him. He riles through files of paperwork before grabbing a thick stack of papers. At this point, he knows he isn’t getting any more information out of you. If this was the game you were going to play, he would win by your rules. Azul lets out a soft “ah” as he finds what he’s looking for. He turns back around, and with a snap of his fingers, the filing cabinet closes with a loud clink. He sets the stack of papers down on his desk before opening another drawer. You take the opportunity to read the cover. Mostro Lounge Employee Handbook.  

 “That is yours to keep. It has all the information you need about our company, code of conduct; policy and procedures- do study those thoroughly-; and workers’ rights,” Azul begins to flip through the booklet before landing on a section towards the end.

“And this is your acknowledgment that you’ve read the handbook. When you finish reading through it, sign here and tear the page from the booklet.”

You grab the booklet from his desk, flipping through the pages quickly. It would take you at least an hour to read through it, let alone study. You land on the Policy and Procedures page and glance at the text written on it. You notice the usual statements, Attendance, Safety, and Security. Each statement had a lengthy explanation of the expectations and appropriate procedures for employees to follow. Each statement ended with a bold statement: No exceptions.

Before you can speak again, Azul hands you another set of papers.

“Here are some other official documents I will need you to sign. Onboarding processes usually involve tax forms and such but considering your unique situation we will have to create a new form for you. As for payment, as you have no bank account, it’ll be in cash.”

You thumb through the additional papers. One is an agreement of payment. The other is a form about uniforms and sizing. There is a rundown of waiter etiquette, the type of service, and a menu. Azul hands you a pen, gesturing to the payment agreement form. You quickly scan the page, looking for nefarious fine print, but ultimately decide it is safe. And you’re happy to see the high pay rate. Working for at least two weeks, plus any tips you could earn, you’re sure you’ll get that ring in no time. You sign your name eagerly. Azul quickly takes the paper and pen from your hands and grins.

“Please return the uniform slip to me by tomorrow so I can get your uniform fitted as soon as possible. I will also need you to sign the other acknowledgment papers and return those before your first day. Once your uniform is ready, you can begin working with us. Do study that menu, I need it memorized before your first day. You will shadow Jade and Floyd. Do you have any questions for me currently?”

Azul was flashing a charming smile at you. His previous look of annoyance is long gone, now replaced with a confident and relaxed gaze. You were slightly overwhelmed but matched his smile.

“Nothing I can’t text you about later, right?”

“Of course. We look forward to working with you, Prefect.”

He rises from his chair and extends a hand. You stand, shake his hand, and bid Azul farewell, carefully securing your stack of papers against your chest. The easy part was finished. Now you had to survive the hard part.

-

By the time you return to your dorm, it’s late. Grim is sitting on your kitchen counter, tail flipping in annoyance. His eyes are squeezed shut, but you know he’s awake and aware of your presence.

“All that time spent in Octavinelle and you didn’t bring any food home?” he grumbles but he happily leans into your scratches as you search for a can of tuna. His eyes open and scans the stack of papers on the counter.

“Since when did you work at the Mostro Lounge?”

“Since today.” You respond, removing your hand and opening the can. Grim follows your hands, walking in front of the can to chase your pets. You swat his head away. For a creature that claims not to be a cat, he sure acted like one.

“Are you gonna start bringing fancy food home? I want steak every day.”

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to bring steak home ever.” You laugh, emptying the tuna can into a bowl and setting it aside. You take the opportunity to look at the formidable pile of documents and sigh. You supposed you’d have to get started on memorizing sooner rather than later.

It was worth it for the ring.

-

A week passed before you were able to officially start your first day. It was an agonizing wait for you. You compulsively went to the jewelry shop the day before your start date to check that the ring was still there. Still on display, the modest ring sat among the other fancy bands. You had seen others beside it come and go, but the silver ring stayed put for nearly a month. You had never been so thankful for your mother’s practicality.

350 madols. You’d get that in two weeks if you were diligent.

On your first day, you were early. Several hours early. You entered Mostro Lounge, still crisp uniform feeling foreign on your skin. Even back home, you had never worn anything this fancy. You tentatively looked around the dark room and took in the sight of the restaurant. You had never seen it so empty. You almost felt like you were trespassing.

“Woaaah Shrimpy even beat us! Guess they’re serious!” You heard Floyd before you felt him. He grasped your shoulder while he moved in front of you. He was wearing the same uniform as you, although slightly more unkempt. While Azul’s policies had stated there were “no exceptions” to the uniform expectations, you figured Floyd couldn’t be contained by such rules.

“Well, that’s good to see. Not many new hires are this passionate about the business,” Jade strides to the other side of Floyd with a polite smile on his face. “You’re aware of the shadowing process, correct?”

“In theory,” you say, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You’ve always been slightly intimidated by the twins. “Floyd is a server and you’re on expo… I doubt I’ll be spending much time with you, though.”

Jade grins at your knowledge. “No, not while I’m doing that. But I also double as floor manager when Azul is out. That’s when you’ll be under my watch. I’m impressed. Azul told me you’re serving experience was limited.”

You bite back your comment about using the internet to look up your questions. Compliments are nice. And you didn’t want to feel any more over your head than you already did. Expeditors were for fancy restaurants. You had never seen one in your old jobs.

“So, because today is a Saturday, we’re open earlier. The chefs will be comin’ in soon to start prepping and making family, and then we’ll be ready to open. It's great that you’re here so early though. Now I can show you everything without people being in my way.” Floyd explains, guiding you through the dining area with your shoulder.

“This is the floor; you’ll primarily be working here. You’re gonna be serving with me, bussing tables, and running food.” Floyd kicks the doors open to the kitchen.

“This is the kitchen, Jade’s territory. That’s the walk-in, that’s the chef area, cleaning station, blah blah blah, you won’t really need anything back here unless you do.”

You decide not to comment on the “unless you do” bit and hope that it means it’s above your pay grade. So far it doesn’t seem too bad. Although there aren’t any guests yet.

“This is your locker; you can put your… nothing here. Yikes. Things that bad at home, Shrimpy?”

“I can always bring Grim if that makes me look less sad.” You joke, glancing around before following Floyd out of the locker area. He shows you Azul’s office, where you quickly drop off your remaining paperwork, the break area, and the storage area. By the time you’ve finished your tour, other employees have already filed in and begun their side work.

“And that brings you to the end of Floyd’s restaurant tour! I deserve a 5-star rating, right Shrimpy?” He grins, leaning down to your height to flash his teeth at you. “Go ahead and start rolling silverware, I’ll come to get you before family.”

Floyd leaves and you join the other servers, chatting politely while you prepare for service to start. You take a deep breath and try to steady your heart. You have to focus and keep your eyes on the prize.

-

Family was deceptively calm and quiet. Service was hell.

The few times you had dined in Mostro Lounge had been nearly perfect. The servers were attentive, the food delicious, and the atmosphere tranquil. It had been a while since you had worked in food service, but even your limited experience in a family-owned diner couldn’t prepare you for just how intensely Azul ran the Lounge.

The shift from front of house to back of house was like night and day. The second you entered the kitchen you could hear screams for “Hands!” and “Service!”. You constantly messed up dishes- bringing the wrong plates to the wrong tables, bringing them too early or late much to Jade’s annoyance, forgetting the menu out of stress, and the amount of chastising you were hearing for letting dishes die was agonizing. You had even crashed into a dishwasher after forgetting to announce “Behind!” breaking several dishes.

This was only your first day.

Floyd quickly told you to take five in the locker room while several students cleaned the mess you made. You quickly sat on the bench and placed your head in your hands. This was an utter disaster. You let out a miserable groan, pulling your knees to your chest. You couldn’t imagine what Azul would make of your performance. You were hoping for some sympathy, but after all the trouble you made, you wouldn’t keep an employee like you around either.

“Prefect.”

Azul’s harsh tone made you quickly regain your composure. You grimaced as you looked up at him from your seat, placing your legs back on the floor.

“I’m really sorry. It was more than I expected, I should’ve asked more questions… I can pay for the dishes, just take it out of my paycheck, I just really need this job- “

Azul put his hands up to stop you. You’re glad he did. You could feel your throat tightening as you explained yourself. You didn’t want to cry in front of him.

“Dishes can be fixed with magic. What can’t be fixed is the experiences the patrons had today.” Azul states. He opens his mouth to say something else before hesitating. You look utterly miserable. Tired, stressed, and anxious. Usually, this many mistakes in one day would warrant termination, but you’re a special case.

“…Clearly, service is a bit much for you. Tomorrow morning, I am heading into town for the farmer’s market. You will join me. Meet me in the Lounge, 6 AM sharp. Do not be late.”

Azul turns sharply and leaves the room. You breathe a sigh of relief before leaning back against the lockers. You only had a couple more hours of your shift. That was plenty of time to get at least one table right. You resigned yourself to doing the best you can before joining everyone back in the kitchen.

-

The next morning you are utterly exhausted. You were chewed up more times than you could count, and the quick turnaround from the previous workday to this morning left you with only a few hours of sleep. You were sure you looked ragged as you walked into the Mostro Lounge.

Floyd and Jade were already there, Floyd half asleep, and Jade fixing centerpieces. Jade glances at you and raises his brow.

“Oh? I figured you would’ve been fired last night.”

The harsh words made you wince, but you nodded in understanding. You did too.

“Yeah Shrimpy,” Floyd yawned. “You messed up big time yesterday. Never seen someone so bad at this.”

You pursed your lips. You were getting less understanding.

“I’m not joining you in service today,” Your brow twitched in annoyance at the sound of Floyd’s Thank God! “I’m joining Azul in town today. Picking up ingredients with him, I think.”

Floyd and Jade exchanged a look before they let out a series of giggles. Floyd’s giggles turn into a cackle that fills the room. You had never felt so much anxiety in your life. Think of the ring. Think of your mom.

“Is there something funny, Floyd?”

Azul asks as he enters the room, exactly on time. You’ve never been so excited to see him before, but if you had learned anything from NRC, it was that you did not enjoy the Twins’ company. Floyd responds to Azul with a cheeky Wouldn’t you like to know? making him scoff. Azul glances around the room, finally spotting you. He seems pleasantly surprised to see you there so early, almost expecting you to be late, or not even bother to show at all. You truly were dedicated to the paycheck. Azul couldn’t help but admire your devotion.

Jade strode over to Azul with a smile, handing him a piece of paper. Azul sighed, read over the note, and gave Jade an annoyed look before stuffing the list in his pocket.

“The Mostro Lounge does not require fifteen new types of mushrooms, Jade. Come now Prefect, otherwise, we’ll be late to the market.” Azul links your arm with his and begins leading you toward the door, and you hear Floyd’s cackles fill the air again.

The walk to town is mostly quiet. You don’t have much to say, and you’re admittedly too tired to wrack your brain for conversation points. You sneak glances at Azul’s profile as you walk, wondering what’s going on in his head.

What was so special about you that he kept you around? What did he want from you that he couldn’t get from anyone else?

“Is there something the matter, Prefect? It’s impolite to stare.”

Azul glances at you with a smile. You furrow your brows.

“Why didn’t you fire me?”

He chuckles.

“Well, I thought you needed a job. I’m helping you, like you asked.”

He leaves it as that once you approach the market. You don’t need to know how much he enjoys your presence, even when you’re messing everything up. You also don’t need to know that Jade and the head chef are usually the ones making the farmer’s market trips. If you were going to withhold information from him, it was only fair to do the same to you.

 The time spent shopping is pleasant. The tension fades away the longer you two are shopping together, and you find yourself listening to his explanations of the dishes he serves, and why the restaurant is run the way it is. You’re impressed by how much he’s accomplished at such a young age. Every time he mentions his mother’s restaurant, you can’t help but smile.

As you’re finishing up, you happen to glance around, realizing the jewelry shop is on this street. You look at Azul, who is still conversing with a vendor and begin to inch away towards the shop. You’d just take a look at the ring again, and quickly go back to Azul and leave. Simple.

You enter the shop and greet the shopkeeper, who at this point knows what you’re there to look at. You walk over to the display and peer into the glass. Still on display was your mother’s ring.

“Ah, so this is what you needed the money for!”

Azul almost sounds giddy as he approaches you. You jump back in surprise, not realizing he had even come in. You stammered out apologies, trying to cover up why you had wandered off, but it was too late. You were busted.

Azul glanced at the ring that captivated you. It was a plain silver wedding band with a simple vine engraving. There were no jewels or diamonds in the ring, making it an unpopular pick for couples. To him, it was nothing special. He turned his attention to you, who was still sputtering out explanations, embarrassed. If you just wanted it for aesthetics, you wouldn’t be this flustered. Whatever it meant to you was something he wasn’t privy to, but clearly meant a lot.

“Hey… it’s,” you finally find your words. “It’s 8:30. We have to get back so…”

Azul thankfully says nothing. He nods in agreement, and you begin your walk back to campus.

-

Your walk to quiet once again. You shuffle behind Azul, acting like it’s the groceries in your hands slowing you down. You try convincing yourself that getting caught wasn’t so bad. It shouldn’t have been something you were so embarrassed about. It was natural to miss your parents. It was natural to want something to remind you of them. It was natural to want to work yourself to the bone to earn some money. You didn’t mean to start crying, but you figured you needed it. It started as quiet tears, but they soon turned to sniffles, and then blubbering hiccups. By the time Azul realized you were crying, you were almost wailing.

If you were in the emotional state to pay attention, his panic would be hilarious.

He couldn’t figure out where to start. Did he hug you? Apologize? Ignore you? Tell you to stop crying? He wasn’t trying to upset you. He just wanted to know why you were acting so weird. He tentatively grabbed your arms, gripping them tightly, attempting to soothe you but only successfully shocking you out of a cry. His eyes were wide and worried as he tried to understand where he went wrong.

“Why are you doing that?! It was a ring!”

You sniffed, blinking away the tears in your eyes before frowning.

“It’s my mom’s ring.”

Azul purses his lips. You don’t need to say more than that. He’s a bit of Mama’s Boy himself. He nods slowly and releases your arms before reaching into his coat pocket. He pulls a handkerchief out and wipes your face before you can put the bags in your hands down. Your face is still puffy, but he tried his best to get all the tears and snot off of your face.

“We are extremely late. We must get back immediately so we can open on time.”

And without another word, you two finally make it to the lounge.

-

You finish off your first week a bit better than you started, but not by much. You’ve learned the kitchen lingo fast, but you still weren’t designed for fancy service. You had at least gotten back on Floyd and Jade’s good side, even with the occasional broken dish. You definitely understood why students earned such a high paycheck for their work at the Lounge.

After the final sweep-through, you waved goodbye to the other servers and headed to the locker room. You still hadn’t brought anything to work besides a cell phone, but you preferred sitting here rather than the official break room. You sighed and leaned your head against the lockers, eyes closed. You were utterly exhausted.

A curt, ahem, caught your attention. Standing in the doorway was Azul, eyes focused on you. Since your outburst over the weekend, you have avoided him to the best of your abilities. The embarrassment of breaking down in front of him still fluttered in your stomach. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Hello Prefect. Happy to see you survived your first week,” he said, a small smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t one of his usual suave smirks, but a natural grin.

“Survive is right.” You groaned. “You run this place like a Sargent.”

“That is the restaurant business.” He laughs, approaching you. You notice an envelope in his hands.

“I noticed your improvement. Towards the end of the week, you were beginning to be a bit of help.”

“I think you mean ‘becoming a big help’?”

“No, I was very intentional with my words. You are not cut out for this.”

You put your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe he was firing you with a smile on his face.

“Great, thank you. I assume that’s my first and last paycheck?” You gesture to the envelope with one hand while the other massages the space between your eyes. Azul hums in agreement and hands it to you.

“Please do not let this deter you from visiting the Mostro Lounge again in the future. We will still honor your employee discount.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but the words don’t come out.

“Good day, Prefect.”

Azul leaves abruptly, turning on his heel and exiting in a hurry. You raise a brow but quickly turn your attention to the envelope. It's smaller than you expected, bulging strangely around the middle. You can’t help but open it in the locker room.

You pull out the contents hurriedly. First is your notice of termination. The second is a note. And lastly, is the ring.

You quickly read the note.

Prefect,

I apologize for not delivering this in person. I figured you wanted to be alone after last weekend. Please let this be a reminder that I can always help you without putting you to work. We absolutely could have worked out an arrangement to fund this ring. Nonetheless, I hope this makes up for a paycheck.

Yours sincerely,

Azul

You can’t help the grin that splits your face as you slide the ring on your finger. You’d have to tell him the truth about your feelings.

The whole truth, this time.

[hairyjocktf]

Building a New Life

Justin was the star wrestler at his high school. He had won regional titles and the adoration of all the local families for years, and was ready to head to college to continue his streak. Senior year he was at his peak, winning matches left and right. All he had to do was wait for those recruitment offers to roll in. He waited and waited, still kicking ass in his wrestling, but while everyone around him was committing and getting accepted, there were no letters to him. To his dismay, one never came. His plans for the future were shattered, what was he supposed to do now? The wrestling scholarship was his only shot for college.

With the year ending and not many options, Justin started looking for entry level jobs that would take him. He lived in a fairly rural area so most of what he found was either farm work or construction, and the latter paid better. He called one of them up and they told him to swing by the site a few days later. He drove out to the construction site later that week and walked into the mobile office they had there. The manager came out to greet him. He was a rugged man in his late 40’s, with a stocky build and thick stubble. He’d clearly been in the business for years and it showed through his worn hands and gruff voice from yelling orders at his lackeys. The man looked Justin up and down.

“A little scrawny but I can work with it,” he said after a few seconds.

“I was a top wrestler in the region!” Justin protested. 

“Doesn’t matter in this industry,” the man said flatly. “Can you handle heavy loads and equipment? Can you deal with being outside most of the day in rough weather?”

Justin was caught off guard, usually people were much nicer to him. “Of course I can! I can handle whatever you throw at me,” he assured.

“Well alright, If you think you can handle it let’s see how you do here,” the manager said, handing a pile of clothes to Justin. “Here’s your safety and HiVis gear, make sure it fits and then we’ll get you set up outside.”

Justin took his uniform to the bathroom to try it on real quick. It included a hard hat that was adjustable, which he fit to his head, a bright orange and yellow HiVis vest, and a couple other things. He put it all on and stepped back into the office. 

“Alright follow me, Justin was it?” the manager gestured towards the door.

“Yes sir,” Justin responded uncharacteristically.

“Name’s Blaine, the manager revealed, “Around here we usually work on residential projects, we’re currently assisting on a development outside of town.” He led them away from the office around the immediate site, which currently seemed to be mostly used as storage for equipment and materials. “Since you’ve got no experience you’ll start by shadowing some of our guys for a few weeks and handling more basic tasks til you’re ready for more,” he continued. “You can head back to the office and they'll take care of the nitty gritty for ya. I’m expecting great things from you, wrestler,” Blaine laughed as he left Justin and headed out towards the development. Justin heard his gruff voice booming in the distance as he barked orders to the workers.

Justin was unsure about all of this, but he didn’t really have a better option at the moment. He felt out of place in his new safety gear, and he was younger than nearly everyone he saw working. He took care of the paperwork and headed home for the day; they'd hired him on the spot to start the next morning. With considerable unease, he went to bed, closing one chapter of his life for the next. 

As the weeks went by Justin began acclimating to this new job fairly well. He got to know the guys he worked with, learned how to use the equipment, and began to feel comfortable on the site. He even felt like he had put on some mass to better handle all the physical work he was doing. His rock solid abs were a little less visible than they had been but for some reason that didn’t bother him. He was already starting to forget the sting of not being recruited for wrestling. Every day he came into work those past dreams seemed to fade a little more, replaced by his new life. His coworkers had made fun of him for having such a baby face at the beginning, but now he was starting to sport a little bit of stubble. Justin was slowly starting to blend in more with his new crowd.

The months continued to pass, with Justin becoming more and more entrenched in his new construction life. It was getting colder outside, and his body began to adjust without him even noticing. His stubble grew out into a real beard, short and dense. He began packing on more body fat as he spent less and less time at the gym and more and more working and drinking with his new bros. His voice began to sound a little deeper and rougher, matching those around him. The hard hat really suited him now with his more rugged looks. He had never been a good student in school but he seemed to really be taking to this new job, completely forgetting about his old goals. The occassional approving nod from Blaine was driving him forward. He was thriving in this new position, but the job wasn’t done with him yet.

Unbeknownst to Justin, under his thick winter clothes things were changing. His previously toned body, while still fairly muscular, was steadily becoming thicker with fat. Not only that, but he’d always been near perfectly smooth and that too was slowly changing. It had started with his chest, where on the previously bare skin thin wispy hairs had started to poke out. That didn’t last long though, as they were quickly overrun with thicker, darker hairs that began sprouting in between his pecs. They grew curly as they spread out, covering his entire chest in hair, spreading up across his collarbone and down across his slowly growing stomach. The new hairy coat was just another part of his insulation against the harsh winter weather. But the hairs didn’t stop there either. His pits erupted with thick wiry hairs, coating his underarms in curly hairs that trapped both heat and sweat. The hairs pushed out, tangling together as they formed a thick tuft of hair under each arm, even spreading out to connect with the rug on his chest. After each day of hard work he’d come home stinking like the other men he worked with, and over time he started to enjoy the musk he produced.

Of course he wasn’t done filling out his uniform quite yet. His formerly modest bush began growing with no end in sight, engulfing his groin in thick, wiry brown hairs that radiated out from his lengthening cock. Sometimes while on the site Justin would instinctively reach down in his pants to itch the growing bush, the feeling and texture of it driving him wild. With pubes erupting day and night his musk only grew stronger, as Justin began to truly have a manly aura around him that he’d never had before. It seemed to help him bond with the other guys more, as they welcomed him into their groups and invited him out more and more frequently. Underneath his work pants his legs bulked up considerably from carrying all sorts of materials around, followed closely by the same dark fur. It raced down his legs and coated them with curly hairs that rubbed against the inside of his increasingly tight jeans as he walked around, an almost arousing feeling. Within the first year of working Justin had gone up four sizes in his work boots, as his feet grew and widened to match the rest of him. The massive steel-toed boots hid how hairy his feet had gotten, with dark hairs covering the tops and toes.

The next year was largely the same. Justin continued slowly changing to better fit his new job. He was really beginning to excel at it, and he’d attained a close friendship with many of the men he worked with. It almost seemed as if he’d aged ten years over the last one, he certainly looked it at this point. His fur coat only thickened, growing even denser across his chest and stomach to the point you could barely see the skin beneath the hairs. Hair had also spread up and onto his shoulders before enveloping his massive back. The hairs gushed out across his shoulder blades before shooting down his spine and spreading out wide. The heavy coating slowly grew thicker and spread out further as time went on, reaching down to his ass. It too became covered with thick, dark hairs as it inflated to a truly massive size. During the warmer months sometimes he just wore his vest and hard hat, his incredibly thick hair covering the rest of him and sticking through his vest.

Justin earned the nickname ‘Grizzly’ from his coworkers after they saw how hairy he’d gotten, and his body had put on the size to match. Gone was the small but toned body of a wrestler, replaced by a thick, hairy, and sturdy body of a weathered construction worker. He oozed masculinity from not only his stained and dirty work clothes, but from the thick chest hair that he left his shirt open to show off. His entire body was now coated with a dense coat of hair and he liked to make that known, as long as he wasn’t caught against safety regulations at least. He never questioned why he’d changed so much in such a short span, it never even occurred to him, and honestly he liked his new life. He was just one of the guys working on the site now. The hair felt as natural to him as anything else, and the other guys seemed to like it even if they made fun of him once in a while. Occasionally when they went out drinking some of the guys would have too many beers and start rubbing their hands through his thick fur, but he didn’t mind at all. It felt good to be masculine, and to be appreciated for it by other guys. Months continued to pass though no one could really remember how long Justin had been working there at this point, but they were all glad he was there. He was the best construction worker on their team.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Jealousy

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fingering, jealousy, possessiveness, toxic behavior, multiple orgasms,

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Over the next few weeks, you and Damian developed a comfortable friendship. He rarely texted, preferring to call when he wanted to study together. The moments you shared felt... nice.

You’d catch yourself wanting to talk to him about things that had nothing to do with school. You’d find a meme or finish a good book, and a small voice in your mind would tell you to share with him. You’d wonder what he’d think, what hobbies he might have - what he was like outside of the carefully constructed persona he held at Gotham U. But each time you yearned for something more personal, you felt like you were crossing a line.

One evening, you were studying at his place. Damian sat across from you on his enormous leather couch, his laptop resting on his sweatpants-clad lap. The screen’s glow flickered over his bare chest, highlighting the sharp lines of his collarbone and the shine of his chain as he casually tossed a cracker into his mouth. You, on the other hand, had shed your skirt and blouse hours ago, left in just your yoga shorts and tank top, too tired to continue wearing your outside clothes. You had let down your hair, which had been pulled back painfully all day. The relief of it cascading over your shoulders felt like a victory.

"Did you know that Kace is doing research on Gotham's water distribution?" you asked.

Damian glanced up, nodding slightly as if he'd already known. "Yeah, I’ve heard a little about it. It’s a pretty big project."

"Very," you replied enthusiastically. "It’s funded by the municipality. A real opportunity."

His brow arched, clearly impressed. "That’s great."

"I applied to join the project," you added, crossing your fingers. "I’m hoping Kace will take me on. It’s a researcher’s dream, and having a reference from him would be huge."

Damian’s gaze softened, and he smiled that rare smile he'd had only when you spoke about a new discovery or theory.

What he did next surprised you. He set aside both of your laptops and laid his head in your lap. The sudden intimacy caught you off guard, your breath quickening.

"I’m tired of thinking," he murmured, voice low, his head resting comfortably against your thighs. "Let’s watch something."

Your heart raced. Slowly, carefully, your hand reached to brush the strands of his hair back. When your fingers grazed his scalp, he let out a quiet, satisfied hum, the kind of sound that made your stomach flutter and had you scratching at his hair more purposefully.

"What do you want to watch?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"Something mindless," he replied, eyes still closed.

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One day, after your physics lecture ended and the room emptied, you stayed behind, scribbling a few last-minute notes. Damian lingered, sitting beside you, his fingers traced the hem of your checkered skirt, his thigh resting close enough to yours to occasionally brush against it. The casual proximity, the touches always left you breathless while he seemed unaffected. You bit your lip, your pulse quickening as you put your notebook away and mustered up the courage to ask what had been on your mind for weeks.

“Damian,” you started softly, “would you want to... maybe go out sometime?”

His thigh immediately stilled.

“Go out?” His voice was calm, almost amused. “Like on a date?”

You nodded, looking to where his fingers had frozen, tangled in the fabric of your skirt.

“I thought you weren’t interested in dating,” he said, his tone calculated and smooth.

Your heart skipped a beat. “I wasn’t at first. But, well... isn’t that kind of what we’ve been doing?” You elaborated. “We spend all this time together, and we’ve been... intimate.”

Damian turned slightly, leaning closer until his piercing green eyes were at your level. This conversation started to feel more like an interrogation when he asked, “Why?” his tone curious. “Why do you want to date me?”

The question hit you like a splash of cold water. “What?”

He tilted his head, studying your reaction. “Why do you want to date me?”

You blinked. Of all the things he could have said, this wasn’t what you expected. “I... well, because-”

“You don’t know,” he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was the kind that made you feel small, like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing.

“I do know.” You blurted out. “I just didn’t expect that question.”

He sighed. “Our arrangement works, doesn’t it? You get what you want. I get what I want. There’s no need to complicate things.”

Your chest tightened. “I guess. But... you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “No.”

“Me either,” you said quickly. “So... what do you call that?”

Damian’s brow arched, and the sharpness in his gaze felt like a warning. “What are you trying to get me to say, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard, realizing how he was twisting your words. “I’m not trying to get you to say anything,” you muttered, but your voice wavered with frustration and hurt. His silence, the way he just sat there, watching you struggle, was answer enough.

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag, trying to hide the burning in your cheeks and the sting behind your eyes. “Never mind,” you mumbled, more to yourself than him.

Without another word, you turned and left.

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Oh, I do not need this right now, Damian thought, dodging a swift punch from his brother, narrowly avoiding what would’ve been a bruising hit.

"Do you... maybe want to go out sometime?"

Your words echoed in his mind. The way your voice wavered slightly, vulnerable, soft. A vision of you flickered in his imagination. Eyes wide, expectant, waiting for him to answer.

Damian barely registered the next strike coming his way. He flipped back, gritting his teeth as he refocused. Concentrate.

Dick often took it easy on him during training. It was something Damian usually resented, a constant reminder that his older brother still saw him as the kid who needed coddling. Dick always joked that since Damian was the baby of the family, hurting him would "break his heart." Absolute bullshit.

Damian had taken on Nightwing for the first time when he was fourteen, and even then, Dick had held back. But now - now he was in his twenties, a fully trained assassin capable of holding his own against anyone. There was no excuse for Dick not to come at him with everything he had.

Yet here they were again, Damian on the mat, his brother watching him with that infuriatingly knowing look.

"You're distracted," Dick commented, arms crossed, his stance casual.

"No, I'm not," Damian snapped. "Let's just get this over with."

Dick raised a brow, spinning his staff a few times as he stretched his shoulders. "Got somewhere to be?" he asked, throwing a few experimental swings. "You usually live for the chance to knock me around for a couple hours."

Damian’s jaw tightened, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Dick had a habit of slipping into therapist mode. Usually, Damian let him - mostly because Dick was annoyingly good at it, and it gave his older brother some sense of satisfaction. But today, Damian had no patience for it. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think.

But the image of you lingered.

The look on your face when he’d rejected you—polite, almost cold—played in the back of his mind. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you. Not like that. He had a life already too complicated, too dangerous for something like... a relationship. But still, your expression had haunted him. It made something deep inside him twist, the part of him that hated vulnerability, hated seeing it, hated feeling it.

Then a thought struck him - someone else. Someone else making you smile, laugh, touching you the way he had. A vision of you looking at a man the way you look at Damian. It was infuriating. The idea of someone else seeing you come undone, hearing you cry out in pleasure - of someone else having power over you - made his blood boil. His jaw tightened, a surge of anger rising, and his movements faltered again.

He cursed under his breath as he nearly took another hit from Dick. Focus.

But it was too late. His moves were sloppy now, more reactive than calculated, each punch and kick lacking the precision he normally prided himself on. Dick, of course, noticed immediately.

“Seriously, what’s going on with you?” Dick asked as they moved into the second hour of their sparring session. “You’re not anticipating my moves like you usually do. I’m pulling my punches, and you’re still off your game.”

Damian clenched his fists, feeling the frustration build in his chest. He could hear Dick's words, but the memory of your voice, soft and hopeful, drowned everything else out.

"I... I don’t have time for this right now," Damian muttered under his breath.

"What’s 'this'?" Dick pressed, but Damian didn’t answer.

His footwork became more rushed, his fists less controlled. And that’s when it happened. Dick moved faster than Damian anticipated, his staff coming up just as Damian lunged forward. A solid punch landed squarely against Damian’s mouth.

Pain flashed through him. He stumbled, tasting blood on his lip.

“You want to talk about it now?” Dick asked.

Damian wiped his mouth, glaring. "There's nothing to talk about," he ground out, stepping back into position.

But Dick didn't let up, standing his ground, his expression softening in that way Damian hated - like he was waiting for Damian to let down his guard, to open up. "You know, whatever’s going on in your head, it’s not worth getting your face smashed in over."

Damian scoffed, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. He wiped the corner of his mouth where a trace of blood threatened to form, his green eyes flashing with an edge. He straightened up, cracking his neck as he reset his stance. “If you hit any softer, Dick, I’d think you were the one who has something going on with his head."

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Nikolas Hill was a one year your senior, majoring in Econometrics and balancing his life as captain of Gotham U's swimming team and a straight-A student. He was also the oldest son of Gotham's current mayor Archibald Hill, a fact which he seldom mentioned himself though it was always brought up by someone else.

You, Nick, and seven other students were accepted to Professor Kace's water system project, and you worked well together. To your surprise, Nick was vastly knowledgeable about the research content. He told you he wanted to major in engineering, but econ was "where the cuties were," with a wink.

"Werent there enough cuties on the swim team?" You teased.

Nickolas raised a perfect blond brow and flashed his signature smile. "Dude, swimmers have like, no ass. That is a fact."

"I apologize," You laughed, mocking, clicking on the analytics report you two prepared.

A week later, he asked you for your number.

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Damian was waiting for you outside the lab when you stepped out with Nikolas Hill. His presence was impossible to miss—leaning casually against the wall in his polo and leather jacket combination and towering almost any student who passed him. His sharp gaze locked onto the two of you the moment you appeared, laughing at something Nick said.

You instantly noticed a cut across his bottom lip when you neared him, prompting you to ask. "Damian, what happened?" Your voice was barely above a wisper, filled with concern.

His brows lifted slightly in surprise at the sight of your companion. “Hill,” Damian greeted him, his tone cool and familiar, like they’d known each other for years, though not in a way that suggested they were friends.

“Wayne,” Nikolas responded in kind, matching Damian’s neutral tone, though there was an underlying challenge in his voice.

Damian’s eyes shifted between you and Nikolas, narrowing slightly. “You two working together?” he asked, his question directed at you but intercepted by Nikolas.

“Yeah,” Nikolas answered smoothly before you could open your mouth. “We got paired up for the municipal water ledger research. Lucky us.”

There was a sharp edge to Damian’s smile, and he let out a low, sarcastic, “What a coincidence.”

The implication behind his words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable: Nikolas had only gotten the position because of his father.

You felt your own smile falter as the tension between them rose, making the hallway seem smaller.

Nikolas chuckled lightly, undeterred. “Don’t get it twisted, Wayne. I know it must be nice, being Bruce's kid and all, but some of us actually had to work to get here.”

Damian raised a brow, eyes glinting dangerously. “Seventeenth in your program, if I remember correctly?”

Nikolas leaned in closer to you, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “Adorable, isn’t it? He does his homework.”

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You couldn’t help but notice the way Damian’s lips tightened when Nikolas inched closer to you. His expression darkened, the muscles in his jaw flexing under the weight of his glare.

Straightening back up, Nikolas shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “Unfortunately, my dad didn’t donate enough to bump me up a few spots.”

Damian’s grin returned, though it was more venomous than friendly. It was the kind of smile that didn’t touch his eyes, and you could feel the crackling tension between the two, like a live wire ready to snap. “Right,” Damian drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure being the mayor’s son really held you back. It’s not too late to apply for ‘Make-A-Wish,’.”

You swallowed, the urge to leave growing stronger with every passing second. You were sure they wouldn't mind. They seemed perfectly content engaging in their verbal sparring. But the way Damian was looking at you that made your skin prickle with discomfort - his gaze searing into you like a brand.

Nikolas shot back without missing a beat, his grin widening. “Not all of us get to play the ‘Prince of Gotham,’ though, do we?”

The title hung in the air. It was a label once meant for Damian's father, but now it had been thrust upon Damian since the world learned that Bruce Wayne had an heir. It wasn’t just a title. it was a pedestal, an expectation that idealized Damian as something more than human, something untouchable and better than everyone else. And right now, as his jaw clenched and his green eyes blazed with a darkness that sent a shiver down your spine, you wondered which Damian you were looking at - your friend and classmate, or Gotham’s heir apparent?

With the way his gaze bore into you, sharp and unyielding, you had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t Damian, your friend. No. You were staring into the eyes of the ‘Prince of Gotham,’. The one who could get away with whatever he wanted and no one would bat an eye.

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Witch each thrust of his fingers, you grew less and less able to focus. "Damian," you wimpered.

"Hmm?" His low voice hummed behind your ear, making your skin vibrate.

You were sitting on his lap in his couch, thighs spread out, skirt still on. But the top buttons of your blouse were undone showing off the purple marks Damian has spent the last hour decorating on your neck and collarbone. Your hands were held together by one of his ties, an impossible knot you couldn't loosen regardless of how much you tried. You knew your hair was disheveled and worried about how you would go home looking a mess. Your roommate would certainly have questions.

"That! Ah -" You panted, shutting your eyes. "I thought we weren't in a relationship."

"We're not." He said confidently. He refused to elaborate further before kissing you behind your ear - a spot he'd discovered a while back to be extremely sensitive, which he often used against you.

Your shoulders tensed. Your bra straps slipped down your arms as your head rolled back to rest against his muscular frame, easily getting lost in the sensation for what had to be your twelfth consecutive orgasm. You lost count somewhere between nine and ten.

You warred with your mind to stay on topic. "Then... why can't I go out with Nick?"

The moment you walked into his apartment, Damian asked if you and Nick were a couple, then at your hesitation, he nodded and ordered you not to go out with him.

His fingers sped up against you, and the impending orgasm built up as you felt the rising heat in the pit of your stomach.

"Damian, answer the question," You gasped, straining against him.

"Because you can do better." He said in a simple tone, though you'd hinted what sounded like a growl accompanying his words. He bit down on your neck, hard, before sucking on the skin he'd just broken there. His fingers made rougher movements on your overstimulated slit, giving you sensation that was equally painful and delicious. You'd mumbled a sentence of incoherent "please" and "God," as your brow forrowed, sweat gathering on your exposed collarbone.

The only goal his response achieved, however, was angering you. Who did he think he was? Deciding what men were and weren't worth your time. You were your own person. You huffed, a mixture of frustration and something else. "I think I'm smart enough to decide that for myself!"

Your sentence was cut off with a squeal. He had found a new spot that made your back arch as he chuckled against your ear. "Im not saying you're not, baby. Im just giving you my impression of things."

You bit your lip, half to keep from moaning and half to keep from lashing out at him. Whether he thought so or not, words carried meaning, and the tone with which he called you 'baby' would definitely resonate in your mind. This wasn't good for your purely platonic friends-with-benefits arrangement. "You can't call me that. Baby. Im not... your baby."

Dropping your pen and notebook, your bound hands grasped at your thighs as you pushed your pussy into his fingers, chasing that delicious feeling. You panted until you came.

His fingers didn't stop, though. You began to weakly shake your head. "No, no, no, Damian, you said it was the last one -"

"Just one more baby," he emphasized the last word. "You can take it. I know you can. You're so cute when you're like this,"

Your bound hands scratched at your skirt, and you bit your lip. His words, his actions, his whole being was a question you couldn't answer; a problem you couldn't solve.

His fingers had your mind drifting, and you suspected that he knew that if he just kept saying and doing the right things, he could control you. This thought was what drove you into another shaking orgasm

"My pretty girl," he hummed the praise against you. "Mine."

"N-no," your voice managed weakly as the tremmors subsided and your eyes slid shut. "Not yours."

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"Damian, I don't think this... our arrangement works." You spoke softly, then added, "For me. Anymore."

He blinked down at you, facial expression unchanging as he watched you collect the last of your belongings. "Mhmm."

"I guess I'm not cut out for 'no-strings-attatched'". You added. What you didn't add was the fact that you had caught feelings for him, but he was smart, and it wouldn't take rocket science to figure that one out. "And I can't hear you call me yours without... without thinking something more..."

"Are you gonna go out with him?"

The "him" in question was Nikolas, and yes, you were. You justified the decision to yourself by considering that it wouldn't hurt either Damian who didn't see you as more than a fuck buddy, and it wouldn't hurt you, who was actually curious to see if a relationship with Nikolas could go somewhere.

You nodded, making sure to keep eye contact. Whatever judgment that intense green gaze sent your way was not deserved.

At last, Damian nodded. "I'll see you around then."

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it, as he was already walking away. "See you."

That night, Nickolas dropped you off after a wonderful first date back in your room and kissed you goodnight. You lay in bed and closed your eyes, picturing muscular, scar-covered arms easily handling you, calloused fingers caressing, holding, and teasing you, and a pair of moss colored eyes piercing into you as sleep took you over.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

[asian-hero]

Welcome Home; I'm Home

Alhaitham/Reader

Being in a relationship is hard. It requires constant work and sharing vulnerabilities you never thought you'd indulge in. Both parties need to constantly choose one another, despite their flaws. It's a good thing that you choose Alhaitham, even when his blunt nature rears its ugly head.

a/n: have a lil alhaitham hurt/comfort, as a treat :)

wc: 1.4k

The silence that filled your home was deafening. 

Though, you supposed that anything would be quieter compared to the explosive argument that broke out between you and Alhaitham.

It started out as an ordinary conversation. You’d been telling Alhaitham about your plans for your day off; all the while you fluttered around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the both of you. He hadn’t been contributing much to the conversation, but you didn’t think much of it. You weren’t sure exactly what it was that caused him to snap, but as soon as he’d let out a long sigh, you knew something was wrong.

Pausing your ramblings, you turned away from the coffee you were brewing, tilting your head to the side. “Habibi? Are you okay?”

Soft mutterings were the only thing that you could hear, almost as if his sleep-deprived consciousness were attempting to filter his thoughts even after they left his lips. Frowning, you moved closer, gently brushing the silver bangs away from his face. “What was that?”

“Too loud,” He spoke up, an irritated scowl appearing as he swatted away your hand, “Would it be so terrible to have some peace and quiet for once?”

You blinked, letting your hands fall to your sides as you dealt with the sudden surprise. Leveling an unimpressed look at the man before you, you crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t take that tone with me, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham mirrored your attitude, leaning back in his chair, “Don’t treat me like a child. I already have to deal with dozens of people droning on about things I don’t care about at the Akademiya, I don’t need to hear about it in my own home.”

Running your tongue against the front of your teeth in annoyance, you spoke up. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t know that it was so terrible to want to talk to my lover before they leave for work,”

“Picking a fight first thing in the morning?” He questioned, rolling his eyes as he got up from his spot, “Very mature of you, Habibti.”

“I’m picking a fight?” You exclaimed, feeling your voice grow louder as you followed him into your shared bedroom, “You decided to have an attitude with me this morning and suddenly I’m the one who’s picking a fight? Maybe if you were a ‘mature’ enough adult to just say what your problem is I wouldn’t be bothering you!”

Turning sharply, he pointed a finger at you. “You are the problem. I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to talk, but you just kept going. Do you think I care about what fruits you’re going to pick up at the market? Or how you’ll organize the library?”

You watched in silence as Alhaitham grabbed a seemingly random book from the pile on his nightstand before heading out of the shared space and to the front door.

“You know what? I hope you have back-to-back meetings and no time to read that stupid book of yours!” You yelled out, only to be met with the harsh sound of the front door slamming.

That was several hours ago.

Deciding that you wouldn’t let Alhaitham’s outburst ruin your day, you continued with the rest of your day. In the time after your fight, you had gone to the bazaar to grab some staples and some fresh cherries that caught your eye, had a wonderful lunch by yourself, and you had managed to clean a bit around the house. Since the menial tasks you’d set out to do didn’t completely calm you down, you’d also started rearranging Alhaitham’s library by color, knowing that he’d have to deal with the inefficient organizational system for the next few weeks before he’d inevitably fix it all himself. 

Once you’d finished your petty act of defiance, you found yourself curled up on one of the loveseats, casually flipping through your light novel as you felt the remnants of your earlier agitation fade. Just as you were turning the page, you heard the lock of the front door turning, the creaking of the door a familiar noise in all of the chaotic silence that surrounded you. 

Though, rather than feeling the rush of warmth and contentment fill your chest, you felt nothing but the bitter silence that continued to linger after your argument.

You refused to look up, opting to continue your reading, even when you heard hesitant footsteps drawing closer. Eventually, you felt the cushions beneath you dip, a warm presence at your side. Long fingers moved in your peripheral, hesitating slightly before settling by your waist, tugging lightly at your shirt. 

A silent question, allowing you the opportunity to pull away if you wanted.

Sighing, you closed your book, setting it down on the table in front of you before looking down at the hand grasping at the hem of your shirt. Slowly, you moved to tug his hand off, intertwining your fingers together. There were many things that you’d wanted to say; part of you, the uglier side, wanted to continue your argument, wanting nothing more than to make him feel as bad as you had earlier. After all, it was unfair of him to take his anger out on you.

However, the better part of you, the one who loved the man beside you dearly despite all his faults, despised the hesitance in Alhaitham’s posture, as if you’d leave for good if he weren’t careful enough. 

You wanted to let him know that though you were still hurt, he didn’t need to be scared. 

“Welcome home,” You said instead, running your thumb across his knuckles.

He stared at you momentarily, studying your expression in silent contemplation. In the end, he simply let out a wisp of a laugh, squeezing your hand. “I’m home.”

A tense silence filled the air, both of you wanting to start the conversation, but neither of you knowing how to. Eventually, you settled on the familiar. “You pissed me off today.”

If Alhaitham was shocked at your candidness, he didn’t show it, instead nodding solemnly as he listened. “I know. I’m sorry,”

“If I was annoying you, you should have just told me,”

“You weren’t annoying me,” When he noticed your furrowed brow, he sighed in annoyance, though you knew it was aimed at himself for not being able to express how he was feeling, “I started feeling overwhelmed. One moment I was waking up, and the next I felt my head pounding and my ears aching.”

Looking smaller than you’d seen him before, he looked away, quietly mumbling, “It was too loud.”

For a short while, it was silent between the two of you. Both of you sat still, with the exception of Alhaitham’s fingers twitching against your hand, a nervous tick you’d learned about during your first year of dating. 

Eventually, you huffed affectionately, moving your unoccupied hand to flick his forehead, instantly rubbing your thumb against the reddening skin to soothe it. “Next time just tell me how you’re feeling instead of acting like I can read your mind,” Squeezing his hand, you narrowed your eyes, “I won’t be as kind if you act like this again.”

He nodded his head again, untwining your hands in favor of leaning forward, letting his head come to rest on your chest. Pressing a gentle kiss to your heart, you felt his arms wrap around your waist. “I will. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

You returned his affections, your arms hugging his shoulders, pulling him closer. “I didn’t mean to make you overwhelmed,”

“I know.”

“I got cherries today,” You mumbled in his hair, feeling him hum against your skin in response, “I also rearranged your library by color.”

You felt him laugh, fingers coming to pinch the fat of your hips, “I suppose I deserved that,”

After that, the two of you fell silent, this time merely enjoying each other’s company. You ran your hands along his back soothingly, feeling for the first time today that you could finally breathe in your own home. Your chest felt light, and you could only imagine how the man before you was feeling.

After a short while, Alhaitham propped his head against your chest, peering at you with inquisitive eyes.

“Hm?” You questioned, brushing the bangs away from his face.

A few more seconds went by, the man in front of you deciding on whether or not he should interrupt the peaceful air surrounding the two of you. Eventually, he settled on a question.

“Are we okay?”

You pursed your lips, observing the way Alhaitham’s fingers danced across your back, another nervous tick. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you smiled.

“We will be,”

i feel like i would have some of the most awful fights with this man, he should be lucky he's pretty and i happen to like pretty things/j

[xmasterofmunsonx]

Got Your Number

Summary: You’re Steve Harrington’s older sister and after a rough and tumultuous breakup, you’re back in Hawkins, Indiana. 🌶️

Pairing: Harrington!reader x Eddie Munson

Author’s notes: hi hello!!! long time no update. been sitting on the first half of this for months and wrote the second half over the last two days. I love this story and honestly at this point I’m writing it for myself and everyone else enjoying it is just a plus. If you’re still hanging in there with me, thanks 🩷

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI!!), language, drinking, weed, mentions of past abusive relationship, body image issues, shitty parent relationship, smut

Word count: 8K

VII.

Two weeks had gone by in a flash while working full time at your dads office. It really wasn’t all that bad, and everyone that worked there had either known you your whole life, or they knew your dad well enough to not give you a hard time- whether it’s because they figured he gave you a hard enough time anyway, or they were afraid of him, you weren’t too sure.

Eddie and the guys seemed to have moved on from the record deal and decided to not sign it, and you were thankful because you were afraid they’d be making a huge mistake in doing so, but you didn’t miss the lack of spark that your boyfriend had shown the last two weeks- he’d canceled Hellfire one night, and was threatening to cancel it now at 4 pm, a few hours before it was supposed to start.

“C’mon, what else are you going to do?” You asked him, the work phone between your shoulder and ear as you were busy with some paperwork.

“Practice, and maybe practice some more. We’re having a really hard time nailing down Maiden’s ‘Wasted Years’ for our show.” You heard him sigh, and tapping his fingers on something at his work through the other end of the phone line.

“Babe, the song just came out a little while ago. I don’t think anyone expects perfection, and you don’t have to play it until you’re ready to.”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking, “I just can’t stop thinking about what if another scout is out there at the next show and we don’t blow them away? We could’ve just missed our chance to make it big.”

“Eddie, you didn’t. I promise.” You twirled the phone cord, “Steve said Dustin is driving him insane because he’s been bugging him since all you’ve been doing is practicing with the band or seeing me- you need to spend some time with them.”

“I don’t need the guilt from you too.” He said quickly.

“I’m not guilting you- I’m just trying to help you keep things normal as you… your brain adjusts to the meds.” Eddie had taken the doctors orders and actually complied with taking the medication he needed for two weeks straight. The first week was the worst- the mood swings were a little more unpredictable, and the anxiety was heightened but you could tell he was starting to level out a little now by the end of the second week. He was even getting better sleep already, and he hadn’t woken up from a nightmare since the third night.

“I’m doing better already. Do you want me to take you on a date or something instead?”

“Eddie, why don’t you want to have Hellfire tonight? You do every single Friday night.”

“I just… I don’t wanna feel different for that. I don’t wanna lose my spunk with it.”

“Do you really feel like you’ve lost it in other ways?” This was the first he’d mentioned any of this, and you really wish you weren’t having this conversation over the phone, but you knew it was probably easier for him to tell you these things without being face to face.

“I mean, kinda, I can’t get the riffs right on that goddamn song to save my life.”

You laughed, “Eddie. That song is a completely different sound from almost any other Maiden song, I heard you playing it the other morning before I walked out of your bedroom. You’ve got it. If anything, I think you’re focusing and you’re trying harder than you ever have before. Plus, this is Hellfire we’re talking about here- you are the most dramatic person I know, including right now, you could never lose your flair for dramatics. Do you want me to DM tonight, or something? I can pull out one of my old campaigns if you haven’t already stolen them all.”

“Would you?” He sounded sheepish as he asked the question.

“I may need some assistance in refreshing on actually how to properly be a dungeon master but I think I can swing that for once. If everyone’s okay with it.” You scribbled down some ideas you’d had as you listened to Eddie go on about how the guys usually played out the campaigns and you knew exactly which one you wanted to try out on them tonight.

-

“Never thought a Harrington would grace the table of Hellfire Club. Welcome.” Dustin spoke to you as you sipped on a glass of whiskey over ice.

“Henderson, who do you think Eddie got some of those twisted campaign ideas from? His little pea brain?” Gareth quipped at Dustin immediately.

“Hey!” Eddie said from the corner of the room, as you blew a kiss at him.

“I told you, we started Hellfire together back in middle school. Were you even born then?”

“What?! I’m not that young.” He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

“She’s not joking.” Gareth nudged Dustin- who’d looked all too confident when he learned you’d be the dungeon master tonight. “I almost cried once.”

You had to turn away to keep from laughing and avoid spitting out the alcohol in your mouth. You were feeling warmed up, but nervous as you waited for everyone to get to Eddie’s music store where he hosted the games in the back room. You loved the cozy feeling of it versus using a room at your school that you had to beg and plead for, and Eddie had told you it had been a fight to keep it going during high school without you being in the club to be the representative for it. He claimed they would’ve let you have any room in the schpracticeool if you asked for it, while they were begrudgingly given the drama room and even then sometimes they had to move a campaign night because of play practice running over. The back room was decked out with band posters, show flyers- new and old, and some odds and ends mounted on the wall.

“Ready, my love?” Your heart swooned at Eddie who’d also been sipping whiskey all night, his ringed hand was clutching a glass similar to yours, except his was a little more empty than yours. You loved how into character he always got, and you felt butterflies as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “Thanks for being willing to step up tonight.”

“I can’t say that it’ll happen often, but you owe me big time, Munson.” You locked eyes with his crazy wide brown ones.

“Oh believe me, I know how I’m paying you back tonight.”

“Then you better stop drinking now before you get whiskey dick, babe.” You whispered in his ear, and kissed his earlobe, your teeth lightly biting it- thankful his curtain of hair could hide your actions. Okay, maybe you were two glasses of whiskey deep now. But you didn’t have the energy you used to and you needed everything you could to pull tonight off.

Everyone had taken a seat at the table, Eddie had lent you his seat at the head of the table, and he scooted a chair up beside yours to help you if you needed it. You were excited, nervous, but mostly you were just happy that Eddie had decided to not cancel tonight. You could tell that he was really in his element here, and this normalcy was what he really needed.

“Alright everyone. Get nice and cozy, because we’re gonna be here all night long.” You sat down and rifled through your notes, smiling at a few of the add ons Eddie had scribbled down, god only knows when, as you started the campaign. You took a sip of your half refilled glass, then cleared your throat and started speaking. “Tonight, we’re in the kingdom of Evercrest.” You heard Gareth groan across the table and you shot him a look, he knew that you had many campaigns written for this kingdom. You remember that some of these used to take two or three sessions to finish, but they were some of your best work, honestly.

“Never heard of that one.” Mike quipped as he crunched on a Pringle.

“Shush.” Eddie snapped beside you, and you held back some giggles.

“Tonight we’ll be playing the Shadows of Evercrest. One of the darkest and most mysterious kingdoms of all- it’s a kingdom on the brink of being completely engulfed by darkness brought on by dark magic and ancient curses. Most recently, there have been many disappearances in the kingdom. Each disappearance has brought the kingdom closer and closer to being overthrown.”

Everyone was dead silent as they looked at you in shock as you felt yourself returning back to your old ways of being a dungeon master. You had the entire attention of the whole table, and you started to get sweaty hands. Eddie placed a gentle hand on your leg and squeezed it, you looked at him- his eyes were full of admiration as he encouraged you to continue on.

An hour into gameplay, you had another drink and you were feeling bold enough to reveal the first twist of the night.

“Elara’s influence in the kingdom is growing stronger, but how? When you’ve all been so successful so far.” You sipped and placed your glass down to your left. “There is a traitor among the allies.” Gasps were heard from all around.

“No! Absolutely not!” Dustin exclaimed, slamming his fist down, “that’s-”

“That’s how it goes, my friend. Elara has enchanted an ally, with her dark magic.” You waved your hand over them as if you were a witch yourself, pretending to cast a spell over them. “The illness that swept over Evercrest took her sister, and now she has plagued the kingdom with these disappearances seeking revenge in the name of her sister. The ally has been enchanted by her.” You kept on, “Will you confront your former ally and try to redeem them, or will you cut ties and focus on stopping Elara’s plans?” You sat back in the chair and watched as the group was talking amongst themselves and deciding what to do.

“Can we break?” Will asked as he raised his hand, almost afraid of what you were going to say.

“Absolutely.” Eddie answered for you, grabbing your notebook from the table so no one could peek, then clutching your hand and dragging you out the side exit door of the breakroom into the dark alleyway. “You. Have. No. Idea. What. You’re. Doing. To. Me.” He pinned you against the brick wall kissing your neck between words, the coldness was a harsh contrast to the warmth from his mouth. “Fuck, you’re such a goddamn nerd too, driving me crazy when you’re like this.” He nipped at your neck and worked his free hand over your body as you bit back moans.

“Never knew I did this to you, Eddie.” You chuckled as you entwined a hand of yours into his curls, letting him continue to scatter kisses over your exposed neck and chest. “Don’t leave a mark, they’ll know.”

“As if my raging boner isn’t enough of a hint, fuck.” He was out of breath as he pressed his forehead against yours. “That, t-that’s my girl back there. Not that bullshit cheerleader who was a fucking bully in high school.” You kissed him on the lips and he pulled you close by your neck. “I don’t wanna go back in there, ‘wanna take you right here.” His hand slid down to your lower back, then to your ass where he squeezed it and pulled it to meet his groin where he was very obviously hard.

“Eddie, we can’t. I promise as soon as we get back to your place we can, we’ve still got another few hours left.”

He quickly shook his head as he smothered you with more kisses, “can’t wait that long.”

“You’re gonna have to.” You pushed him off of you gently, grabbed the book from him and opened the door, walking back into the room, grabbing water and sitting back down in your chair. The rest of the room were gathered in separate groups, probably discussing game plans, and your absence didn’t seem to have been a problem for anyone to bring up thankfully. A few minutes later, a more calm (and obviously now high) Eddie returned to his seat beside you and winked at you, giving you a sinking feeling in your stomach that felt like butterflies mixed with a bit more of a tornado feeling.

“Alright, everyone ready to keep on?” You interrupted their quiet discussions.

“Question is, can you two kids keep it in your pants till we’re through?” Dustin joked as he sat down.

“Ask her, she’s the one who-” you lightly slapped Eddie on the chest to shut him up.

“Excuse you.” You fussed at him and everyone groaned. “It was all him, I swear.”

They all settled down and got ready, and the next two hours flew by. Finally you were getting to the end, and you were really proud of how everyone had handled your twists and turns to the campaign. You stood up to announce the next twist, “As you’ve now successfully uncovered all of Elara’s tragic past, you’ve all ended your quest at her lair, of all places. Hundreds of undead minions are waiting for you to cross her. Will you turn around now, after all of this? Or will you fight?”

“We’re going to fight.” Dustin answered for the group.

“Your death.” Erica chimed in and you held in a little laugh.

You went to sit back down, only to be met with the lap of your boyfriend instead of the chair, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. No one let out a groan of grossness at this show of affection, so you leaned into it.

The game continued, “Elara summons even more undead creatures to attack you in her lair.” Everyone fought on, played their hardest that they could to defeat Elara, and you could feel Eddie beaming proudly behind you. “In a moment of redemption, Elara hesitates, a flicker of doubt crossing her face as she gazes upon those who have fought so bravely to stop her. In a final act of sacrifice, she uses her remaining power to banish the darkness that has consumed her and restore peace to the kingdom, her spirit finally finding peace as she fades into the shadows. Thanks to all of you heroes for bravely planning along tonight, and saving the kingdom from an eternity of darkness.” You raised your last sip of your glass at everyone as they cheered triumphantly at their win, and you felt Eddie place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You could feel his hips slowly moving underneath your ass as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and sat sideways. “Munson, calm down.”

“Can’t, gotta get some relief. I had to use you to hide it.” He pulled you in for a kiss and you heard a few of the younger “kids” groan out their ewws at your sign of affection, to which you both held up your middle fingers as you continued to kiss each other.

“Alright, we’ll meet again next week.” Eddie pulled back from the kiss abruptly, and loudly announced to the group. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “I forgot to close out a few things for the store tonight because I was too excited about having a guest DM so we’ve gotta stay back and do that anyway. You all can go.” He pushed you off of his lap, quickly, and everyone left the room in groups or pairs, the same ones they arrived in. You were browsing the dark music store that only had a few neon lights and lamps on as everyone seemed to have disappeared.

“Could you have been any more obvious, Munson?” You asked as you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind.

“I reaaaaally don’t give a fuck what they know, or think.” He pushed your hair to the side and started kissing behind your ear and you leaned back into him. His hot breath tickled and you shivered, “I also reaaaaally don’t think I can wait till we get home.” His hand was traveling down your stomach and you felt his fingers playing with the hem of your mini skirt. You didn’t stop him as he danced it up higher on your thighs, your body weight leaning more and more into his chest. Your arms were hanging onto his neck as your skirt was now bunched up at your waist, and he was playing with the waistband of your panties.

“Here? S’dark in here but what if someone sees?”

“Don’t give a damn baby, it’s my store, my rules. Now bend over.” He smirked into your neck and pulled your ass against his hard dick, you could feel how thick he was through his jeans already. One of his hands was pulling your lace panties to the side, while his other was skillfully undoing his belt buckle. “You wore these tonight, were you expecting something?”

Honestly, you weren’t. You just hadn’t done laundry to have any other of your more normal underwear clean. “No, promise.”

His hand grabbed at your bare ass cheek and he pulled back and slapped it, “anyone could’ve seen these, you know that, right?” You smirked at his possessiveness, it felt different than when your ex had been possessive. You knew Eddie was proud of you, and you also knew how talkative he was when he was this turned on, so you just let him keep going. You nodded to go along and felt his fingers tease your entrance. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet. I’m surprised you didn’t leave a mark on my jeans.” He lazily rubbed his fingers between the lips of your pussy, and you arched your back to beg for more than what he was giving you, pressing your hands into the wooden record display for support.

“Fuck, stop teasing me.” You looked back and saw him smirking, as he unzipped his jeans and let them slide down his thighs. He started lazily stroking up and down his dick, matching the pace of his slow fingers that were touching you earlier.

“You should know all about teasing, shouldn’t you? Grinding your ass on me, leaning over that fucking table tonight so I could just almost see what I wanted. Wanted to shove that skirt up and lick you clean tonight.” He stroked himself quicker and quicker, “You ready for me, babe?” He asked as he teased your entrance with his hard length, and you whimpered as he teased you with an inch or so, then pulled back out. He kept on a few times until you’d had enough and you thrust your hips back to take his whole length, making him grab onto your hips. “Fuck yeah,” Eddie grunted as he fucked into you and steadied your hips. The store was quiet except the low humming of the neon lights, and your quiet, low moans.

He pulled your hair in a makeshift ponytail with his hands and yanked your head up to his. “You drive me crazy, baby, do you know that? Can’t believe you’re mine after all these years.” He was relentless as he pounded into you, a skilled hand snaking around your front and circling your clit to bring you to your height of pleasure.

You felt yourself clenching around him as he kept a steady pace, and you came quickly before he followed suit, and allowing himself to collapse onto you.

“Goddamn, I can’t last more than a few minutes with you ever, can I?” You could feel his cheeks warm against your back as he chuckled and twitched inside.

“It’s fine, really. You’ve made up for it plenty of other times.” He let out a sharp sigh as he pulled out of you, and helped you fix your outfit and then his own. You both were smirking at each other as you wandered around the store.

“Ready to go?” He asked as he swung the keys around his pointer finger.

“I thought you had to- you’re such a bullshitter, Munson.” You realized he’d lied to everyone about needing to do something at the shop to get everyone to leave earlier.

“Maybe so, Harrington, maybe so.” He opened the door for you and you followed out after he finished locking the doors to the music store.

-

“They trust you with this?” You eyed your brother as you helped him scoot the grill out onto the patio around the pool.

“Mom and dad barely use it, so I taught myself how to a while ago.”

“Shocked that you haven’t burned the house down yet.” You muttered to him and he rolled his eyes back in return. It was an oddly warm fall Sunday, so you (Steve) had decided to have everyone over for a pool party, which you were sure would turn into a night party too. Absent parents were a plus sometimes, and you had Monday off of work because your dad had decided to close for the day.

You were both busy setting up the food and drinks in the kitchen when someone rang the doorbell, so you jogged to the front door to let them in.

In a line, all of the “kids” walked in, Dustin being last and giving you a high five as if you were Steve. You could tell they felt comfortable here as they piled in and made themselves comfortable before heading out back.

“We just… let them party?” You asked, coming around the kitchen corner to your brother.

“Nah, maybe a beer or two but they know the rules. I’m still the babysitter a little bit. Where’s Eddie?”

You shrugged, he was supposed to be here early to help you two get ready but he was either early, or late- never on time, but it was unusual that you hadn’t heard from him. “Must be running late.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at you as he sliced tomatoes. “What?” He asked as you eyed him.

“Just, not like him, that’s all.” You watched as he arranged the tomatoes and lettuce on a plate for burgers. “Alright, what do you know? You’ve never been so precise about where toppings for a burger go on a plate. I really don’t see anyone who’s coming even putting a vegetable on their burger.” You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the counter.

“Nothing.” He moved on to cutting up an onion, and you snatched the knife from his hand.

“Steve.” He said your name back to you in the same sassy tone. “What do you know?”

He sighed, “He didn’t wanna come because it’s a pool party, and he’s nervous about everyone seeing his scars. So he said he was gonna say something came up with the store so he didn’t have to come, then come later tonight.”

You frowned, you felt bad for Eddie because he was so sensitive about his appearance. Everyone knew what they were from, but you guessed that no one had seen him since the wounds had healed, he didn’t strike you as the shirtless guy at a pool type even before, but especially now.

“I’m gonna go call him really quick, can you handle everything for a minute?” You asked Steve as you handed him his knife back, and he seemed to be finishing up any prep work that needed to be done.

The phone line rang three times as you sat on your bed waiting for someone to pick up.

“Hello?” It was Wayne, which took you by surprise.

“Hey uncle Wayne, it’s me. Is Eddie there?”

“Yeah, he’s practicin’ right now. Want me to get him for you?”

“Please.” You chewed on your lip, debating telling him it’s an emergency to hopefully have a better chance at getting him on the phone but you didn’t want to add to any anxiety he already has. You heard multiple footsteps before you heard the phone cord clinking against the plastic phone.

“Hey baby.” He sounded sweet and… oblivious?

“Hey, are you coming over? Steve’s about to get the grill going I think, and I’m kinda worried that he’s going to set something on fire, or give us all food poisoning.”

“I’m uh, I’m gonna come over later. Still practicing some today, and not really feeling like I wanna swim. Wayne’s home too and-”

“Steve told me you’re worried about everyone seeing your scars.” You blurted it out, immediately regretting it.

“I-I… yeah.” He sighed. You couldn’t see him, but you were willing to bet he was running his hand over his face and through his hair right now. “I know everyone’s got them, and they saw me all fucked up but, you know how I am.”

“Eddie, they’re your friends. And you don’t have to even swim, just come hang out with everybody. No ones gonna pressure you to swim.” You paced your room and looked out the back window of your room that overlooked the pool. Robin had arrived and was wearing a button up top, unbuttoned over her swimsuit. Steve was of course shirtless already with his swim trunks on, and all the younger kids were in the pool swimming. Nancy was in a cute striped one piece, and Jonathan had on shorts and a t-shirt. “Not everyone is swimming, and no ones gonna care if you don’t.”

“You really don’t think they’ll care?”

“No, Eddie. Come on over.”

He sighed, “Alright, give me a few minutes and I’ll leave. If I get pushed in, I’m blaming you.”

“Okay, you can fully blame me if someone else pushes you into the pool.” You laughed at him.

“Don’t wanna mess this hair up either, I’m actually having a really good hair day today.”

You giggled again at the thought of his mop of a mane getting wet from the pool, “I’m sure you are, every day is a good hair day for you.”

“Alright, Harrington.” He said, emphasizing the “hair”, “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up and ran down the stairs, and headed straight for the backyard.

“He’s coming but he’s not gonna swim, and please don’t push him in.” You said to your brother as he was crouched down getting the grill going, or at least attempting to.

“Thank god because I have no idea how to start this stupid thing.” He stood up and you were seeing his scars for the first time, too. The one on his face was obviously there and you were used to it, but it was so much smaller. You guys had been night swimming a few times since you had been home, but you hadn’t paid much attention or seen them like you could right now. He had one on the left of his abdomen that still looked pretty gnarly.

“I didn't realize how bad-”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad, I know. Well, it was. I think just pretending they’re not there is the only way I can act like things are back to normal now.” He spoke softly as he pushed his sunglasses back up on his nose. “Gonna go grab a drink, you want one?”

“Just a water is fine for now.” You said as he walked away, the scars on his back just as pink as the ones on his front. You found Robin settled in on a pool chair and sat at the foot of her chair. She had already found a beer and was watching the kids play a game of chicken. Max and Lucas were very clearly about to win against Mike and Will.

“Your lover not gonna make it?”

“He’s on his way, he was a little hesitant to come over to swim.” You said, and Robin nodded, thankfully understanding what you were meaning without saying anything.

“I think he has the hardest time with it all because he thinks he should’ve died.” She said very bluntly, sitting back in the lounger. Steve walked over and tossed you a water, then returned back to the grill. “Like, he actually did. And the scars are just another reminder- as if any of us need one, and I don’t think he wants to be a burden and make anyone remember it anymore than we already do, you know?” You nodded, realizing again how little you had understood about what everyone had been through while you were gone, despite hearing so much about it all from them. “He had it the worst of us, but you know that. Steve was pretty fucked up too. He waited until Eddie was even somewhat stable before he got himself looked at, they could have patched him up way better but he wouldn’t leave his side.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah. Days. He spent days after we’d all been evaluated, cleaned up, stitches or whatever we needed before he said that he needed any medical attention other than what we could see on his face. Nancy finally told him he smelled like blood and sweat and needed to go before he ended up with an infection. I'm still not convinced he didn’t get rabies from those bats... She had to pry him away from Eddie’s bedside. Steve said he felt responsible for him dying, because Eddie sacrificed himself to save him for you.” She was staring out at the pool still, talking about all of this as if it were some lighthearted conversation, and you were left speechless. “When the doctors got their hands on Steve they couldn’t believe how much pain he was in for that many days and didn’t even flinch because he was so good at hiding it, but when they asked him to lie back on the hospital bed to get looked at, he was crying in pain. It was pitiful.”

You still didn’t know what to say as you fumbled with your water bottle. “I hate that I wasn’t here.”

“No, don’t say that. I mean, I hate that you were where you were, but you didn’t want to be here. In Hawkins, or the upside down.”

“I just wish I could’ve been there for them more. Anyone. You guys are so close and I feel like I’m just invading on this, and adding more to it all.”

“No, you’re good for everyone. You being back has helped Steve, and obviously Eddie too. That idiot is crazy about you. When he woke up and found out what had happened to the town, the first thing he asked about was some book in his trailer that none of us knew what he was talking about until Wayne got there after Steve called him to tell him his vitals were improving drastically.”

“What book was it?” You asked, not sure what he could’ve been talking about.

“We all thought he meant his copy of The Hobbit but he was talking about some dungeons and dragons notebook.” Your heart stopped as Robin rambled on longer, for minutes before you realized you weren’t listening at all.

You two settled into a normal conversation, but you kept thinking about the notebook that Eddie was worried in the back of your head until he arrived, he made a quiet entrance versus his usual display of dramatics. He was dressed in a ripped up, sleeveless Slayer tshirt and a very holey pair of black jeans, and a pair of black converse that you rarely saw him in. His hair was tied back loosely and he had a black bandana around his head too. You stopped mid sentence with Robin as you watched him gravitate towards Steve as if he automatically knew he needed help.

“Man, you’ve got it bad for Munson, don’t you?”

“Shut it, Robin.” You slapped her ankle playfully and she laughed at you.

“Have you guys said the l word yet?”

You looked at him again before looking over to her, “No, it hasn’t been that long yet.” You knew Robin was such a romantic at heart- she thought your story of two best friends torn apart, then reunited as “lovers” was the best plot for a romantic story.

“Hasn’t been that long?! You guys were friends for how long before this? And you both knew you had something for each other this whole time?! Come on!” She threw her hands up in the air. “Just say it and see what he says.”

Except, you knew how Eddie felt about the word. There were some things some people- most people actually, didn’t know about his life before he was living with Wayne full time. The only time he heard the word love and it actually meant something was his mom, and he didn’t hear it but a few times from her. And if his dad ever said it, it was when he was quite literally beating love into him. It was a subject you weren’t really ready to introduce into your relationship yet, and you didn’t want to be the one to push it on him either. You were following the cracks of the concrete around the pool until a pair of unlaced shoes caught your attention.

Eddie squatted down to your level of the pool chair and lifted your chin up with his two fingers before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips. “Hi.” He said, his cheeks rosy, and his eyes were a little bit bloodshot to match.

“Hi.” You giggled back, “You okay?”

“Smoked on the way over here, never been better.”

“I’ll leave you two alone, have at it.” Robin got up, abandoning her chair. Eddie replaced her at the top of the chair and motioned for you to scoot up between his legs. You settled with your back on his chest, as his arms wrapped around your body.

“Glad you decided to come. I missed you.” You said as you traced the faint scars on his forearms that were showing.

“Just saw me last night at the show, Harrington. But thanks for making me come here, I think it’ll be good.”

“I didn’t make you come here,” you defended, “I was just trying to get you out of the house and that head of yours for a bit.”

“I know.” He kissed the side of your head, “and I’m thanking you for it.” You’d half expected him to retort back with some type of a half argument comment like he was actually trying to say that you did force him to come here, but you could tell he genuinely was glad to be there. You snuggled in closer to him.

“I think your meds are working, you normally would have said something a little smarter than that back to me.” You said out loud.

“Yeah, I feel less on edge all the time now. ‘S kinda nice.” He hummed.

“Should you be smoking weed while you’re taking it?” You feel him shrug against you. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“Guess we will.” He said.

“I need to run upstairs and change, keep an eye on Steve to make sure he doesn’t burn anything, please.”

“You sure you don’t need any assistance?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes as you made your way back inside to change into your swimsuit.

The first one you grabbed was an older black one that was a two piece bikini, you were a bit less curvy back in high school but you figured it would still fit. You slipped the bottoms and the top on and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your shape had changed so much, not necessarily for the worse by any matter, but you could hear the comments from your mom or Charlie in your head as you took yourself in from every angle in the mirror.

A soft knock rapped on the door, then it slowly opened and you weren’t one bit surprised to see Eddie there. His jaw was slack as he stuttered out a compliment. “Y-you look great.”

You blushed and tucked your arms in front of your tummy, attempting to hide your few pounds, suddenly feeling ashamed.

“I mean it. You look healthy. I know what you’re thinking. I haven’t forgotten what your mom used to say to you. I haven’t either.” He closed the door quietly behind him, then walked over towards you.

“How come I have to be the one confident about my body, but you get to hide yours?” You asked him as he enveloped you in a warm hug and rubbed your soft back.

“That’s a conversation I’m willing to have another day, sweetheart. You don’t have to swim either.”

“But I want to. All I have are bikinis though.”

“And you look fine in it.” He hugged you tighter, but then his arms dropped, “what’s that?”

“What’s what?” You pulled back to look at him and he was focused on your closet. “Oh, that’s just some old high school crap. C’mon, let’s go down to the pool so they don’t think we’re up to something.”

Eddie shook his head as he made his way over to your closet. He didn’t have to stand on his tiptoes to grab the shoebox from the top shelf of your closet. “I know exactly what this is.” He made himself comfortable on the floor of your room, and opened the lid. The laugh that escaped his lips almost sounded like a bit of a cry as he started to pick through the papers and pictures.

“C’mon, Eddie. I’m not in the mood for reliving the past right now.”

“Oh I am. Look at how cute we were.” He showed you a photo of the two of you, and some of your old friends from middle school. “God, I was such a nerd.”

“Was?” You asked as you sat down beside him and watched him carefully dig through your possessions. You watched as he pulled out each picture, most of them had a tiny hole in the corner from a push pin where they’d been displayed in your room. “Had to take all these down in 9th grade when I had my first sleepover with Grace. I didn’t want her to make fun of me. I don't think I’ve looked at any of them since.”

Your slightly shaky hand started to sift through the box too, finding a picture from your birthday party in 8th grade- the year your parents had the pool put in. Eddie was beside you, his arm loosely around your shoulder, and you were both grinning from ear to ear, everyone else at the party had smiles too, but none as bright as the two of yours. There was a picture stuck to the back of that one, and it was of you blowing out your birthday candles. Eddie was staring- yes, staring at you with nothing but admiration in his eyes. You realized then that Robin really was right about the two of you. Eddie had found a letter that you both would pass back and forth between classes and was smiling behind his hand as he read it, his eyes seemed to be shrink wrapped with tears ready to fall.

“Man, we were fucking clueless, weren’t we?” He said out loud.

You took a deep breath, “clueless to what?”

“Each other. I’m pretty sure I was in love with you back then.” He continued on, not realizing what he’d said.

“Back then?” You asked, picking at the corner of the picture in your hands.

“Yeah, back then. Look at this,” he pointed to a part of the letter and read it aloud to you as you giggled along. You didn’t want to ruin the moment so you went along with him as you continued pulling out old pictures and letters, some DnD notes, and random little trinkets.

Your heart was aching to say something to him but you didn’t want to press it, so you abruptly stood up and grabbed the box from him, putting the lid back in it.

“That’s enough for right now.” You stood on your tippy toes to place the box back in the top of your closet, where dust had settled around the edges of it for sitting in the same spot for so long.

“I can’t believe you kept all those. Even after the years you were so mean to me.” Eddie came up behind you and took the box from your hands and effortlessly returned it to its place.

“You know me, I keep everything.” You were a little nervous now, not sure where the conversation was going.

“What about pictures of him?” Eddie asked, his voice laced with disgust.

“Eddie, come on. You really think I’d keep any of him? I threw all the ones I had out in Chicago, and Steve got all of the ones out of the house before I made it home.”

“I’m shocked he didn’t make you burn your pictures with me.” He scoffed, pacing around your room.

“He didn’t know I had those.” You watched him scratch at his neck as he kept pacing. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“While we’re on the subject of keeping things… Robin told me that my DnD notebook was one of the first things you asked about after you woke up.”

“Yeah, I was worried that you would kill me if we ever talked again and I’d lost it.”

“Lost it? Eddie, I didn’t even know that thing still existed until you showed it to me.”

“Well. It’s the one thing that I had of you, of yours that was still… you. You know? You just switched in freshman year to this completely different girl desperate to fit in. I tried calling you, but your mom always made up whatever excuse you told her. Cheerleading practice, or at Grace’s house, or whatever it was. Finally I just gave up after you started looking at me with disgust at school if we saw each other. Then your sophomore year I knew I was never going to get you back, you were long gone.”

“But I’m back now.” You said quietly.

“Yeah, but at what cost?” He let out a disparaging smile, “You were with that abusive piece of shit for all of those years, and I was here rotting in Hawkins, being the freak of the town and then almost dying. Now you’re back, and you’re just… you’re back in my life again. But nothing is the same.” He sounded defeated.

You looked at him with tears in your eyes, and you felt your heart crumpling down.

“Eddie, I’m sorry.”

“Everyone is. Everyone is so sorry about what happened, aren’t they?”

“Eddie, please.” You grabbed his arm as he tried to walk out. He pulled it away from you, then turned to face you.

“I loved you, but you didn’t see it. You didn’t care, you just wanted to be the popular girl, you wanted everyone to love you. Sweetheart, none of those people did, except me.”

“I never told my mom to make up lies about where I was. I didn’t know you ever tried to call me. I thought you hated me for joining the cheerleading team.”

“Hate you? I could never hate you. Fuck- all of that bullshit you said to me in high school and look where we’re at now.” His chest was heaving, and you were feeling woozy from the emotional whiplash of the conversation.

“Where are we now?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Eddie’s hands slowly reached up to your face, and he didn’t miss the tiny flinch you made as you realized he was about to touch you.

“I think you know where I’m at.” His hands were resting on either side of your jaw, and his thumbs were slowly moving in circles as he looked you in the eyes, searching for something. “I said I could never hate you, didn’t I?” You nodded slowly at him, “it’s because I never stopped loving you.”

He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“Eddie, I love you too.” You said, placing your hands over his and squeezing them. You watched as his eyes squeezed so hard that tears started falling.

“Don’t say it just because I said it. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, you know-” he started getting himself riled up the more he spoke.

“I do know, and that’s why I’m saying it. I love you.” His eyes were still shut and he was breathing through his nose. “Look at me.” You grabbed his face to move it to yours and watched as his eyes opened up. “I can’t say it enough, I love you, Eddie.” He leaned in after he accepted your confession and kissed you again, still a quick kiss, but so much feeling behind it. “And I promise you, all of those people out there love you too. But not… not as much as I do.”

He smiled at you before grabbing your hand and leading you downstairs, and back out to the pool. To your surprise, no one made any comments about the two of you being gone together, and not as much time must have passed as you thought because Steve was just putting burgers and some chicken on the grill. Eddie kissed the side of your head before he went to the cooler for a beer and resumed his stand beside your brother.

Alright, you confessed your love to him, so why do you feel like you could hurl up the last 3 days worth of food as you stared at him?

“Grabbing a beer, you want one?” Nancy placed a hand on your shoulder and asked as she walked by you standing on the hot concrete, and you nodded a quick yes to her.

“Thanks.” You said as she handed one back to you.

“You alright? You look a little bit sick to your stomach.”

“Yeah, just hanging in there. We had another one of those big conversations and I feel a little off.”

“C’mon, walk it off and come sit over here with us and forget about it for a minute.” You followed her over to where Jonathan and Robin both were talking in depth about some movie ending and why it should’ve ended differently.

“Hey guys.” You sat down, sharing a chair with Robin again. You started drinking your beer quickly as they changed the conversation and you joined in as you heard laughter and splashing in the background. Minutes later, it all stopped. Everything. The laughing, the splashing, and any noise other than the few birds that were still around.

You four looked to the pool. Everyone’s head was accounted for, and then you looked over at the grill where Steve was laughing as he flipped a burger. Steve, just Steve. Where was Eddie? Suddenly you were being lifted up by a very cold, wet body and were getting thrown into the pool, beer in hand and all.

“What the fuck?!” You said as you came up from the water. Eddie was also… in the pool with you. Shirtless, but his jeans on.

“Dustin made a bet and I had to follow up on my end.” He swooped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. “Love you.” He kissed you on the lips before he let go of you and swam to the side of the pool. He pushed himself out of the water, making a show of his wet hair, then pulled his jeans off to be left just in his boxers.

“Hey man, put some trunks on.” Steve yelled at him before putting the lid down on the grill and running inside. He jogged back out with a pair of his red ones and tossed them at Eddie’s chest, “for your decency.” He said with a smirk, and Eddie put them on and hopped in the pool with everyone else, and a fresh beer for you.

[mydreamchapter]

the angel of warmth

pairing: yeonjun x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff with comfort!

word count: 3k

age rating: mature - mdni

tags: pet names, implied sex, reader was going through a shitty breakup

The morning air came with a chill bite, but it stood no chance against the pleasant heat radiating from the sleeping angel next to you. Yeonjun was like a mug of hot chocolate; warm and sweet, comforting in the cold, cozy, so delectable you wished you could drink him. So you tried to, in any way possible, turning toward him and wrapping your arms around his waist to spoon him, and gently kissing the spot where his neck met his back. He stirred slightly from the sensation, but was definitely still asleep. You could probably fall back asleep too, if you wanted to, but the mug in your arms was comforting in a way that you felt you had to be awake to fully appreciate. So you nestled your cheek against his back and gently tangled your legs with his, drinking in his warmth with your whole body through his soft blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. 

“Honey,” he said, and you could feel the depth of his morning voice in your cheek. He found your hand and slotted his fingers between yours, his palm against the back of your hand. “Honey, you’re so comfy.”

“You’re so comfy, angel,” you said.

“But it’s not fair,” he said, and you could hear the pout in his voice. “You could keep me in bed forever.”

“Lucky you, we both have the day off.” 

“Thank god,” he said with a sigh, and pressed his back against you more. He hummed happily. 

Yeonjun wasn’t always there in the mornings, but he always happened to be there when you needed him the most. You’d been scared about the one-year anniversary since the terrible breakup you went through last winter �� you’d never felt colder and more alone when it happened. Things had fallen apart with so little warning that you always worried everything was always capable of falling apart so suddenly the same way, again and again, no matter how good things seemed to be going. 

But right then and there, you were just happy to have someone this wonderful in your arms. 

“How are you feeling, honey?” He asked knowingly. 

—

Yeonjun was the first person you called after the breakup. You had been so distraught that you left your shared apartment with your now-ex into the heavy chill of an early winter evening in just the sweatshirt and pants you’d already been wearing to wander in the night and try to clear your head, your now-ex’s car now off-limits, and called the first person you could think of. 

Yeonjun was your closest friend in this city; you met at a painting club when you thought you should take it up as a new hobby. Of course, you weren’t very good, because you’d never been much of an artist, but it seemed like the intimidatingly gorgeous man next to you already had a background in art and was picking it up really quickly. You quickly discovered that he wasn’t actually intimidating — when you struggled and got discouraged, he would give you little tips and encouragement, and brighten your mood with his smile and the faint scent of whatever soap or perfume he had that smelled like sweet cinnamon. Things had blossomed into friendship after you kept coming back to the painting club week after week, always sitting next to the handsome face you knew would encourage you. You thought maybe that was just his personality, maybe he was always this nice to everyone, but he didn’t interact with the other people in the club nearly as much as he talked to you. You exchanged numbers one day when you knew you’d be gone on a trip with your partner the following week, so that he could send you a picture of his own painting of the week when he finished it. 

So when your life started falling apart before your eyes with your ex in the center of it, it was instinctual to call him first. He’d known you were dating someone happily, and he knew a few base level details about your life, but nothing vulnerable that would have warranted him driving out into the city to pick you up so you could stay at his apartment for the time being — which is what he did. 

“You don’t have to show me your pity,” you’d said when you sat down in the passenger seat, “you didn’t have to do this.” But when you arrived at his apartment, he gave you a blanket, a warm sweatshirt fresh from the dryer, and he washed a bowl of blueberries for you to eat with honey while he made you hot chocolate. 

Of course, all you could do that night was cry; on and off, on and off, while Yeonjun stayed by your side. “You don’t have to do this, it’s not necessary,” you kept repeating, but you put on the sweatshirt, you clung to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you ate the blueberries and honey, and you sipped the thermos of hot chocolate. 

If you’d known him better at the time, you would have spilled your guts, and vomited out all the hurt you were feeling and all of the terrible things your ex had just spewed at you before shutting you out completely. But you were scared to talk and look at all of it, scared to acknowledge what had happened even though the consequences of it were following you at every moment, and you didn’t even know where to start; so you sat on his couch and cried for hours, and he never left your side except to make you another hot chocolate once you had finished the thermos. 

He offered to hug you that night, once. But you weren’t really keen on people touching you other than romantic partners, especially when you felt as vulnerable as you did in that moment. Even someone as beautiful as him. You explained this to him, minus the beautiful part, and he made sure to keep a line drawn between you that wouldn’t be crossed except for you reaching for the tissue box in his hands.

When you moved to this city to live with your partner, you didn’t know anyone else. You were ready to start a fresh new life, away from your toxic past and the ghosts of terrible people haunting you, so you could meet new people and find a happier life with your partner. But you always struggled making friends, and Yeonjun was the only person you’d managed to befriend in the full year since you’d moved here, aside from your ex’s friends that probably wouldn’t want to talk to you anymore. Yeonjun was the only person you had now in this city. Sure, there was your boss at work and your coworkers who knew you, but they weren’t the type of people you’d prefer to spend your free time around. 

The day after the breakup, your ex made it clear you were no longer welcome in the apartment, and gave you one day to move out. With nowhere else to go, Yeonjun cleared up a corner in his apartment for you to put the few things you decided to take with you, and told you his couch was yours to sleep in for as long as you needed it. You reiterated that he didn’t need to pity you, didn’t need to sacrifice space in his own home or take time out of his day to make sure you were okay, but he just shook his head and did it anyway. 

The morning of day three at his apartment and day three of you calling out of work, you finally asked before he left for work for the day. “You barely know me. Why are you doing all this for me?”

He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we’re strangers; you’re my friend, of course I would want to help you during a tough time. And who else would? You said you don’t really have other friends in the city,” he said, and you frowned. “You have a good soul. It shines through your paintings, it’s clear in your attitude. You deserve good things.” You wanted to argue, but you knew it wouldn’t be fair. If he wanted to help you, that was his choice. It’s not like you had begged him for help or anything, either; all you had asked was for him to be a listening ear about your breakup. 

He stuck some bread in the toaster oven, left blueberry jam, butter, and honey on the table, and left for work. “I’ll make you another hot chocolate tonight,” he said.

That night, when he put down the thermos of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of you, you said quietly, “can I ask for a hug now?” The temperature outside was dropping day by day, and every moment you spent alone you could feel yourself dropping, too.

“Of course,” he said, and he sat down on the couch next to you to hug you; this is when you discovered how it wasn’t just his soul that was warm. You buried your face in his chest, trying not to cry again, feeling frail and weak, clinging to the warm body in front of you that was holding you tight in his arms. 

“They were sick of me,” you finally admitted, still hiding your face in his chest. “They had all these problems with me and never brought them up even once. Never gave me the chance to fix them. Just got fed up and gave up, no second chances. And now they’re gone. I keep thinking that maybe if I give them time, it’ll click and they’ll realize how unfair they’re being to me, that maybe they’ll learn to communicate their frustrations in a healthy way,” you said. Yeonjun rubbed your back slowly. “It hurts. How could they just hide how much they were growing to hate me until it was too late? I thought we were fine and dandy, I thought maybe I’d propose to them next year. But they let their frustrations fester so much that they decided nothing was worth saving.” You were quiet for a moment. “Even if they did realize they’re in the wrong, no matter how long I waited, I don’t think they’d come back to me.” It stung like hell to admit, but you felt it to be true deep in your bones. 

“I think it’s for the best,” Yeonjun said slowly. “You deserve someone who cares enough about your relationship to put effort into keeping it healthy. You deserve to be cherished, not tolerated. And you deserve the opportunity to grow.”

You let him hold you like that for a long time, soaking in his temperature and letting him comfort you. It was the first time you’d let anyone other than a partner hug you in years. He still smelled like cinnamon, too, especially from up close, and you realized it was his perfume scent. You’d spotted the bottle in his bathroom before but hadn’t thought to look closely at it.

“Cinnamon,” you said, without explanation, just trying to ground yourself in the moment. 

“Do you want cinnamon in your hot chocolate? I have cinnamon sugar.”

You pulled away from him to look at his face, the low lighting in the room casting shadows on his face that emphasized his perfect features. Maybe he really was an angel. You drank cinnamon hot chocolate that night, and he made it for you like that from then on. 

On morning number four, Yeonjun accidentally slept in late. Couldn’t sleep from work stress, he’d said. You watched him make himself a coffee and pour it into a travel mug he’d take to work. 

“You always make me hot chocolate, but you make coffee for yourself,” you pointed out. You felt like there should be a question behind the statement, but you couldn’t figure out which question to ask. Did he not like hot chocolate? And if so, why did he always make it for you? He never offered coffee, did he think you didn’t like it? Why was hot chocolate his first instinct to make for you when he picked you up from the middle of the city that night?

“My mom used to make me hot chocolate when I had a bad day as a kid. I hope it’s comforting for you, too,” he said simply. “The coffee in the morning is to help me get through the day. And I’m really going to need the extra boost today.”

So that evening, when you knew Yeonjun would be home soon from work, you decided to make him a hot chocolate. You’d watched him do it enough times that by now you knew where the chocolate and the sugar was, and you knew which mug was his favorite, and you knew how long he warmed up the milk. So when he walked in and put his things down, exhausted and totally beat, you handed him the hot chocolate, and he just looked at you in surprise. 

“Can I hug you?” He asked, and you nodded and took him in your arms.

Yeonjun really was like an angel, one who’d fallen out of the sky to look after you in your hardest moment. You were looking at his face and your hands were on his back, but you swear you could almost see the halo and feel the feathers sprouting out from his back. 

You definitely thought of him as an angel when you were finally able to find a new apartment and he helped you move in, find new furniture, and get settled. 

You still thought of him as an angel every time you met at the painting club again and he offered his gentle words of advice and encouragement. 

You still thought of him as an angel a few months after the breakup when he spent the day after Valentine’s, what he called “St. Single’s Day,” driving you around the city and showing you his favorite spots, something your ex had never even done since they never seemed to have the energy to show you anything other than the bare minimum.

You still thought of him as an angel the third evening in a row you spent at his apartment that March, not even needing to ask what he wanted from the takeout place a few blocks away or if he was hungry in the first place, because of course he was hungry, the man had a black hole for a stomach; but this time when you came through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers of cheap Chinese food and he cracked a joke about you being a perfect partner, you felt your face flush. You caught yourself staring at the pout of his lips while he scrolled on his phone after all the food had been eaten during commercials in the middle of Wheel of Fortune.

You still thought of him as an angel that May when you kissed those lips for the first time on an evening walk by the river downtown, and he sighed happily into your mouth, his lips soft and eager and heavenly on yours, his hands gentle but wanting against your skin.

You still thought of him as an angel that August the first time you let his warm hands wander up your legs while you sat sideways in his lap watching a cheesy romcom on the couch, his fingers traveling slowly between your thighs, and then up to your waistband and down again inside your underwear while you gave him small encouraging kisses, his brown eyes drinking in the way you melted under his heat, clinging to him as you sighed his name into his ear over and over.

—

And you still thought of him as an angel now, on the one year anniversary since your ex broke up with you. 

“I feel warm,” you answered, and noticed the morning light from the window shining a backlight on Yeonjun’s golden hair. He turned to face you. His hair was perfectly tousled from sleep, in a way that you wished you could preserve its perfectness and its soft backlit shine in your memory like a picture. But you also wanted to touch it, so you reached behind his ear and tangled your fingers in his hair to pet him. This made him smile, his soft cheeks plumping up in the most kissable way. So you did; you leaned in and kissed his cheek, and he turned his face until he caught your lips with his own, and pulled you close. You kissed him eagerly, wrapping your legs around his, and he tugged your hair gently in response.

It still hurt, though. Being abandoned the way you were abandoned last year doesn’t just heal in an instant, or even a full year. You still felt hesitant to call Yeonjun your boyfriend; even just saying the word still made you feel terrified. 

Yeonjun could sense your thoughts start to wander through your kisses. “Hey,” he said softly, breaking away, and ran his thumb over your cheek. “Hot chocolate?” He offered. He hadn’t made it for you in several months.

“With cinnamon, please,” you said, and he got up.

“All I ask from you in return is to not let the bed get cold,” he said. 

“Aye, aye,” you said, and sprawled your body across the soft sheets. 

You wished it was easy to just let the past go. You wished it was easier to just move on from the pain. You weren’t sure where the future would take you, but you hoped it involved blueberries, honey, hot chocolate, cinnamon, and the angel of warmth that fell from heaven.

a/n: thank you for reading my first fic on tumblr! this was totally self indulgent so i hope it was enjoyable in some way to you too :) let me know if you liked it!

[starflirts]

okay so this is the last one, I SWEAR, dancing in the courthouse with jason grace (i just need more fics with him).

lyrics:

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleepin' so long in a twenty-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

i LOVE jason sm thank u for requesting him!!

jason grace x fem! reader

Jason never believed in love at first sight. He’d seen enough movies to set his standards to impossible levels. And he’d also seen his mom desperately hanging on that man she swore loved her yet couldn’t even stay around or remember her birthday. But even though he built barriers around himself, Jason Grace was also a romantic and dreamed about love and being seen.

He swore he forgot how to breathe when he ran into the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. You were walking out of the grocery store, bags in your arms and chatting with a couple of friends when Jason was about to go in, holding the door for you and your friends. Turning around, you met his eyes, thanking him. The blonde simply stood there, watching you disappear at the corner of the street.

For the next couple of days, fate seemed to be on Jason’s side. He seemed to find you everywhere he went. You ended up introducing yourself while your friends were ordering some drinks at a cafe nearby. Jason repeated your name out loud once but it was the only thing on his mind. The two of you made small talk until your friends dragged you away.

“See you later, Jason!” the way you said his name made his heart race. He’d expectantly wait for the next time he’d see you around town.

You and Jason ended up exchanging numbers after he’d sheepishly asked for it while your friends were giggling, shaking your shoulders when he left. Afterwards, you were the one asking him to hang out, his eager answer bringing a smile to your face.

Jason then learned that you were staying in California for the summer and that you were actually studying and living in Chicago. He also learned that your favorite color was orange, that you hated cucumbers but always had a sweet tooth. On the other hand, he told you about his childhood in Pasadena, his older sister and that he was studying at Caltech. The more time you spent with each other, the more you felt drawn to him.

You freaked Jason out. When he realized how easily he let down his guard around you, how easy it was to be with you and how he felt like he could tell you anything it was already too late. He fell hard. Every second spent with you felt like a breath of fresh air.

During the last few weeks of August, you dreaded the end of the summer, but most importantly, you dreaded leaving Jason behind. The idea of him being a simple summer fling felt so wrong. So when he asked you to meet him one evening because “he had something important to tell you”, you immediately agreed, stomach turning in anticipation.

The two of you ended up walking on the beach, watching the reflection of the moon on the waves. The conversation flowed easily, until it didn’t. You didn’t want to force the words you waited to hear out of Jason and he obviously seemed conflicted about how to voice his thoughts. Suddenly stopping, he turned to face you, grabbing your hands.

“I uh, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time but I couldn’t find the right time to do so. I know now is not the best time anyway but… yeah.” he takes a breath and you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“There’s no bad time with you J, don’t worry” you smile

He lets out a little laugh, not letting go of your hands.

“I like you, a lot. You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I, I can’t see anyone else now that I saw you, heck I don’t even want to think of anything else now that I thought of you ! I know you’re leaving soon and I should’ve told you this earlier but… yeah” he lets out a shaky laugh, rubbing his neck.

You stare at him dumbfounded, completely taken aback by the sudden confession. Upon noticing your silence, Jason pulls back.

“It’s fine if you don’t uh, feel the same thing you know…I… Just needed to tell you before you left—“

He doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence when you’re pulling him into a hug. Your voice is muffled by his shirt.

“Of course I feel the same way! You haven’t left my mind since the day you opened that door for me.”

You can’t see Jason’s smile but you feel his arms tighten around you.

[jahayla-parker]

Risk : Kaz Brekker x Reader

Description: 1.7k wc. Reader is in a no-longer-secret relationship with Kaz, making her a risk to him. Will he accept such a risk?

Warnings: mentions of injuries, infections, near death, capture/kidnapping, and similar SoC topics, Kaz threatening others, protective!Kaz, themes of violence, mentions of war , confessions, mentions of romantic feelings such as love, etc.

Kaz groaned, rubbing his face with his gloved hands. He and y/n had been debating over how to handle this aspect of their relationship. Kaz had tried to keep it a secret to keep y/n safe, but it hadn’t lasted. Which was why he was now stressing out about their next steps.

A few weeks ago, a rival gang member caught wind of Dirtyhands’ relationship with y/n. And as such, decided to take advantage of the one risk Kaz allowed himself to have. They’d tried to use y/n as leverage to blackmail Brekker into giving over a decent amount of Kruge.

While Kaz was surprisingly (even to himself) willing to do so, he knew he could handle it though a different manner. Dirtyhands found the compound where y/n was at and it only took him a matter of a few minutes to get her out of there. Kaz (with the help of his other Crows) was aided in his rescue mission by y/n herself. She’d been able to free herself and find a hiding place inside the rival compound. Due to the injuries she’d suffered when fighting the capture in the first place, y/n couldn’t fully escape on her own. But, she’d done more than enough to help Kaz and the others break in and get her out with ease.

Nevertheless, the incident and subsequent nearly-fatal infection y/n had to fight off, had Kaz stirring restlessly since then. As such, he was proposing telling the Barrel of their relationship and making it clear what would happen if anyone tried to harm y/n or otherwise use her against him. Kaz went so far as to propose they go to war with the Kikkers, the gang responsible for her attack.

Kaz had already obviously handled the men directly responsible for y/n’s capture and injuries. But, he wasn’t satisfied. He’d nearly lost the one thing truly important to him. Declaring war on the Kikkers would not only be a small reparation for the offense, but would also send a sign to the rest of the Barrel to not come near y/n.

“You were so close to dying,” Kaz’s raspy voice said. “I….I was so worried,” he admitted in a hushed volume. It wasn’t easy to confess such things to anyone, but y/n wasn’t understanding why he was so adamant about this. If Kaz was being completely honest, worried was an understatement; terrified, paralyzed, guilt ridden, and enraged would’ve been more synonymous with his feelings.

“I’m sorry,” y/n frowned. “I know you regret it now…” she sighed as she stared at her lap.

Kaz took a step closer, eyes scanning y/n’s body language. “Regret what?” He asked.

“This…, us,” y/n answered. She winced as her voice cracked. Y/n braved a glances up at Kaz as she explained, “you don’t like it when anyone is or becomes a risk to you”. It was something she knew, but it hurt knowing their relationship has been outed and meant she now said risk.

"Do you think I'd drop my walls like this for just anyone?" Kaz asked, narrowing his eyes at y/n. “I admitted I was scared.. for you,” he told her, “I’ve not done that with anyone else”. Kaz shifted his jaw as he broke eye contact, the situation being too overwhelming to maintain that additional level of intimacy. “You’re… we’re… a risk I’m willing to take.”

Y/n was not able to contain her grin. She knew Kaz had just, in his own way, confessed how much he cared for her, how strong his feelings for her were. Y/n bit her bottom lip bashfully as she looked up at him, corners of her lips still curled into a smile.

“But, your safety is not,” Kaz amended. He stood next to y/n, pointing at the notes on his desk. The notes Kaz had drafted to show y/n his plans for the impending war he intended to set forth over what had been done to her.

Y/n sighed. She cautiously set her hand on Kaz’s gloved one, giving plenty of time for him to pull away before they touched. “Kaz,” y/n cooed quietly.

Kaz stared at their touching hands and shook his head. This was the closest he’d gotten. He wanted to be further, to be able to offer more to y/n. And, Kaz had set his mind to doing so as time went on. It was his not only willingness to do so, but actual desire, for said physical contract that demonstrated another example of how much y/n meant to him. “Everyone that I've loved has been taken from me,” Kaz rasped, “I can't let that happen to you”.

Y/n’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. “Y-You love me?”

Kaz swallowed thickly, looking away from y/n’s intoxicating eyes. “They say that when a man loves a woman, she becomes his weakness,” he answered.

“Okay…” y/n mumbled, trailing off with confusion.

Kaz took a visibly deep inhale. “I…,” he began, looking y/n again, “you’re my weakness…”. Kaz couldn’t get himself to actually say the words, it even to directly say yes to her saying the words. This was the closest way Kaz could answer the question truthfully without actually answering.

Y/n fought back a wide grin. However, she noticed Kaz’s eyes were searching her for signs if she returned the sentiment. Y/n knew he wouldn’t ever actually ask her. And, she suspected if speaking in such ambiguous language was easier for Kaz, her confessing the same way would make this less intense and overwhelming for him. “You know the other side to that ideology though, don’t you?”

Y/n noticed Kaz elected to wait silently for her to continue. She smiled warmly at him before she explained the second half of the verse. “When a woman truly loves a man, he becomes her strength. This is called the exchange of power,” she recited. When Kaz simply nodded a single time, y/n let her grin widen. “Therefore, I suppose this means there’s been a full exchange of power.”

Kaz was silent. But, the small smile on his normally stoic face said plenty. He admired y/n in silence for a moment before his smile changed into a smirk. “Does that mean you accept the terms of the plan?” Kaz dared to ask.

“That’s not where I was going with that, Kaz,” y/n pointed out.

Kaz nodded. “I know,” he said as he offered y/n another small smile to show her that he’s on same page. But then he went back to smirking. Kaz’s eyes twinkled hopefully as he repeated his question, “but, does it?”

Y/n laughed and rolled her eyes. She silently shook her head lightly. “While you might be my strength,” she began, quoting the ideology referenced earlier. “It just seems drastically violent,” y/n argued.

Kaz stared knowingly at y/n. He knew he didn’t need any words to get his response across.

“Okay, drastically violent for me,” y/n amended with a laugh. “Besides, this plan doesn’t just impact me,” she rebutted, referring to how the Dregs would be brought into a gang war that arguably was not needed.

Kaz shook his head in frustrated disbelief. He lessened the space between himself and y/n, now only a few millimeters away. “Do you think I care about anyone but you?” Kaz asked, his gloved hands tenderly cupping her face.

Y/n quietly gasped at the physical gesture and the sentiment behind Kaz’s words. She smiled appreciatively at him, their eyes steadily focusing on the others’.

Kaz continued to silently gaze into y/n’s eyes for a moment. He kept his gloved hands on her warm cheeks as long as he could. Once he felt the waters starting to rise in his chest, he slowly lowered them back to his sides. But, Kaz kept his eyes on y/n the whole time.

“This life….” Kaz mumbled to y/n as they stood beside one another behind the fragile wooden banister on the second floor. “I confess sometimes I wonder if others are actually worth fighting for,” he admitted quietly as he looked down at the patrons of the Crow Club. “Obviously it’s not my goal in life, but I honestly wonder… does anyone deserve justice?” He sighed loudly. “But then...,” Kaz shook his head before turning to face y/n. “There's this one thing that always comes to mind and suddenly I'm ready for war.”

Y/n glanced over at Kaz in curiosity. “What's that one thing, Kaz?”

Kaz was slightly reluctant to finish his thought aloud, but eventually he found the strength to do so. He gazed back out at the club below them to ease his nerves. “You,” Kaz answered, blindly grabbing y/n’s hand.

Y/n admired Kaz appreciatively. She smiled shyly and delicately squeezed his hand to thank him for his vulnerable candor.

“That’s why I need to do this,” Kaz said. He gazed over at y/n briefly before looking back out at the sea of patrons. “They all need to know that while you might seem like a risk, a way to get to me,” he said, practically growing at even the notion of such. “-even an attempt at doing so will only end in war,” Kaz promised definitively. He gave y/n a sly grin before squeezing her hand.

Kaz loudly clicked his cane against the wooden slats of the second floor as he walked towards the center of the overhang. He knew his actions would get everyone’s attention. Meaning the only thing he now had to do was use the Kikkers an example of what would happen if someone were to not heed his warning against even thinking of harming y/n. Kaz intended for it to be clear within seconds that Dirtyhands, his Crows, and his Dregs, would all reign hell on not just any idiot who dared to do so, but would also bring war to everyone and everything that idiot valued. Y/n might’ve been a risk to Kaz’s impenetrable indifference towards many actions people would try against him, but harming her was a risk Dirtyhands was going to prove to everyone wasn’t worth the guaranteed consequences that would come from doing so.

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[blue-bujo]

Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader): Chapter Three

You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.

Roy Kent x female reader

Will try to update roughly every two weeks

Chapter Three: Dual-Purpose Distraction

(3.1k words)

Summary: After a loss, Roy takes the team on a night out to distract them from said loss. He may or may not have ulterior motives.

Warnings: Roy Kent-level language (you know what you're in for), discussion of mental health

Brighton had not gone well. Roy had watched in disbelief as Montlaur and then Zoreaux had both been injured and subbed out, and the team had lost the match. His boys were dejected as they piled onto the coach for the drive home.

Jamie had tried to cheer everybody up by turning on the music loaded to his phone and bravely shuffling it, and Beard broke out his David Bowie impression, which got a few laughs. However, most of the men sat quiet and discouraged in their seats. Roy was fuming, although the casual observer would note that his lips were moving without him realizing when he recognized a song. He could feel the low morale laying heavy over the bus and its passengers.

Bravely, Higgins got up to sit next to him when they were about halfway back to Richmond. Roy growled at him, but the older man ignored it. They sat in silence until Roy couldn’t take it anymore.

“The fuck do you want?”

“You looked like you used to when Ted was around and you were too stubborn to ask him about something that was bothering you,” said Higgins. “I’m a sorry substitute for Ted, but I’ll listen if you like. Our own little meeting of the Diamond Dogs.”

“Did I really have all that shit written on my face?” He wouldn’t admit it, but Roy was a little impressed with Higgins. The man was deceptively wise.

“Not all of it, but I know what it is to miss a close friend.”

“I do miss him,” Roy conceded. “He always knew how to make them see a little hope. He was better at this manager shit.”

“If you want to have the Lasso effect, you just need to try thinking like Ted. He would want to do something to distract them from the loss today and get them out of their heads. A movie night or a meal out. Anything, really.”

“Hmm… They’re good ideas, to be fair, but they feel too normal. We always do that,” pondered Roy. He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, thinking, wracking his brain for something. His normal activities were reading, and cooking, and other introverted things. What he did with Phoebe and his sister Sofia were more inclusive.

Roy stood, squeezed past Higgins, and made his way up to the front of the bus. Jamie and Beard sat down, pausing their musical act, and watched him apprehensively. He walked slowly up the aisle – having had a serious knee injury made a person keen to avoid another one, which would be inflicted by walking on a moving bus. When he got to the front row, he leaned over the driver’s shoulder.

“I’m going to reroute us,” he said bluntly. “How do I change the satnav?”

The driver tapped a screen and a keyboard popped up. After a quick google, the manager tapped in an address, and the new route started. Straightening, Roy turned around and looked around the bus. As all eyes were already on him, he didn’t shout.

“All right, listen up. We’re all in a shitty mood because of the loss. Ted would’ve had something inspirational to say, but we all know I’m not Ted. All I know how to do is distract us until we forget about it.” He nodded at Higgins in silent acknowledgement of their conversation before continuing. “So that’s what we’re going to do, going to get ourselves fucking distracted for the night. I hope you don’t have any other plans.”

“Where are we going, Coach?” asked Bumbercatch.

“Wouldn’t you like to fucking know.” Roy sat down next to Jamie in the second row and crossed his arms. He was pleased with his choice; he didn’t think his team would guess where they were headed or what they were going to do. He was surprised he’d picked it, himself. It wasn’t what he expected from himself; he wasn’t typically that forward.

He massaged one hand with the other, passing the pads of his fingers over his knuckles, where just so recently... No. That wasn’t why he’d fucking made this choice!

Beside Roy, Jamie observed the anxious, wistful hand movements, and the address in the satnav, which he recognized. He fixed his mentor in his most suggestive side-eye, head tilted down and eyebrows quirked, until Roy noticed.

Just Roy’s heart nearly stopped. The prick had figured him out. Fuck.

You were at the counter, trying to read an online article. You’d consistently gotten through the first paragraph about six times today, before an interruption had presented itself. It had been an oddly busy day, which you attributed to your own terrible luck, as there was absolutely no reason for half of the house to be full on a weekday afternoon. You saw movement in the parking lot from the corner of your eye, but chose to ignore it and hope it went somewhere else. You really wanted to finish the article sometime this millennium, and tried to power your way into the second paragraph.

You weren’t that lucky. The movement in the parking lot was that of a bus unloading an army of footballers. They were milling around tie dye guy, who you now knew was Roy Kent, manager of AFC Richmond.

With a frustrated sigh, you closed the tab with the online article; there was no way you were reading it with all these athletes coming inside. Because these guys were proper athletes, and in your experience, those were the types that got the loudest when they realized their sporting skills didn’t translate to bowling. Your hair went up, and you braced once again for the difficulty of a large group. At least they all had socks, since they had their uniforms on; you didn’t think there’d be enough money in the register to make change for twenty-something uses of the supply vending machine.

A bespectacled man and a young man carrying a bunch of water bottles came up to your counter ahead of the herd.

“I’m so sorry, but do you have enough lanes to accommodate a football club?” Glasses guy was familiar; he bowled a weeknight league with his wife, and you were pretty sure he had a locker here.

Checking your computer, you answered, “I can give you lanes 17 through 24. Will that be enough? Each lane can fit eight to ten people.”

“That’ll be plenty, thank you. I’ve seen you around, right?”

His question confirmed your theory that he was a regular. “Yeah, I’ve traded shifts for a few weeknights before. I thought I recognized you.”

“You may not want to, after this,” he apologized. “Sorry in advance.”

The first of the footballers came bounding in, either voicing their disdain or their enthusiasm for the evening’s activity. Jamie Tartt swaggered straight up to you, put his arms on the counter, and grinned.

“Heya, Splits! Do you remember meh?”

Rolling your eyes, you quipped back, “How could I forget? Was this your idea, coming back to see if I was fit enough to risk Roy Kent’s wrath?”

To his credit, Jamie had the decency to look embarrassed. “I were being a proper twat, and I apologize. I’m trying to be better. But no, it weren’t my idea. It was all Coach.”

You looked up, past Jamie, to where the last few men were getting off of the Richmond bus, Roy among them. It had been his idea? Maybe Phoebe’s comment had had some truth to it. He was glancing inside hesitantly, and although you knew that he couldn’t see you through the tinted windows, you felt your ears warm ever so slightly. The thought that anybody could find you fit in any way felt foreign.

The clearing of a throat brought you back to reality. The young man with the water bottles had a sheet of paper in his hand that he was extending towards you.

“This is everybody’s boot sizes,” he was saying. “Hopefully that makes it easier.”

“It will, thank you so much.” You turned to the team now standing in front of you and raised your voice a bit to address them all. “You guys will be on lanes 17 through 24. Give me a minute to get all of these shoes ready and go find yourselves some balls.” There were more than a few snickers at the balls comment, which you fully knew you’d walked into, but you charged bravely on. “Once you’ve done that, come back here.”

All but Jamie dispersed to find a ball that fit; he waited at the counter. You couldn’t figure out why, until you saw Roy Kent finally enter your bowling alley. He didn’t seem pleased to find him standing there expectantly.

“What the fuck do you want now? Go and look around like everybody else! Quit waiting for me!”

He was in a mood. They must have lost the game they were obviously returning from. Either bravely or stupidly, Jamie ignored his coach’s orders and adopted an innocent expression.

“Splits is here.”

“I can see that. Now piss off.”

As he had at Phoebe’s party, Jamie gave you a wink before sauntering away. Which left you and Roy Kent staring at each other. You couldn’t tell what the coach was thinking – he kept his face impressively blank – but your mind shot back to your previous encounter, where you’d startled him, then maybe insulted him by not recognizing him, then accidentally touched his hand. You didn’t know how to react.

He made the choice easy for you and nodded curtly. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

You noticed that he had stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I have your shoes.”

“How the fuck do you remember my shoe size?”

You waved the sheet of paper. “The younger guy gave me a list. I’m guessing he’s the kit man?”

A grunt. It could be interpreted as a yes. Nothing else from Coach Kent. You grabbed a pair of rental shoes and held it out to him. “Here.”

As Roy Kent came forward and you reached out, your hands touched – again – and this was more contact than the mere finger brush last time. He froze, then quickly took the shoes and scurried off.

Talk about awkward! You banged your head softly against the counter and groaned. What were the odds of that happening twice?

Roy groaned as he retreated from the front desk. What were the odds that the woman would think that could happen twice? And what had possessed him to surge forward to grab the shoes? Was he that fucking touch-starved, that he needed to manufacture physical contact with fucking strangers? He flung himself onto a couch with Higgins, Beard, and Nate and set about angrily removing his trainers and putting on the bowling shoes. The other three men looked at each other behind his back and shrugged their shoulders. Nobody could decide whether it was better to engage, or just to let him stew until he was ready to come out with it.

Roy was done tying the laces and stood up to stare at them all. Only Nate was brave enough to break the silence.

“All right there, Roy?” he asked.

“Great,” Roy retorted. “Never been better.”

“You ready to tell us what’s going on with you?” questioned Beard. He leaned back, anticipating his fellow coach to blow. The old Roy would have, but Just Roy flared his nostrils, took a deep breath, and then looked at Beard, Nate, and Higgins.

“Like I told the team,” he ground out, “it’s my shit. None of your fucking business.”

“All right. But when you’re actually ready to talk, let us know.”

Rather than stay and face them, Roy left. He told himself it was so he could find a bowling ball, but he knew that he was running away. He didn’t know how he felt yet about being interested in someone again. It always made him feel incredibly vulnerable. The world expected moody, mysterious Roy Kent. The real Roy was lonely and just wanted connection with another human being who wasn’t interested in him being a footballer – no, a manager. Not a footballer anymore.

He surveyed the bowling alley. Everyone was having a decent time. It seemed a happy enough place, with its garish red walls and photos of local celebrities hung in frames across the soffits. Roy’s head was on a swivel looking at them all, then at his greyhounds. They were good boys, already losing the melancholy from the match. Higgins had his phone out, taking a picture of them, and they all exuded an easy comfort at spending time with each other. He kept looking around, settling his gaze just a moment too long on the girl at the counter.

Fuck, he was interested in her. She was just as awkward as he was, and she hadn’t recognized him at Phoebe’s party.

Plus, she was fit. So fucking fit.

Roy forced himself to look away. Staring creepily at a random woman was more than inappropriate; it was dangerous. If the paparazzi found out, it could cloud the whole team’s reputation. Plus, now Jamie knew. The manager couldn’t let on just how interested he was in Splits.

Hell, he didn’t even know her real name.

His team was starting to bowl. Roy could overhear snippets of their conversations as he walked by each lane. Jamie, Isaac, Dani, and Colin were horsing around, teasing Jamie about something.

“I’m just saying, a guy could do a lot worse!” Tartt was laughing. “She is fit!”

“She does have a very happy smile,” agreed Dani.

“I dunno, she’s not really my type,” Colin said, drawing a few laughs.

“That’s because nobody like her is!”

“Shut up, Isaac!”

“You walked into it!”

Suddenly, they all noticed Roy and shut their mouths. Roy glared at them.

“You talking about me?”

All four lads remained silent, although Jamie seemed to be struggling not to smile or laugh. The only response they gave was a communal shake of their heads. Roy stared them down until they started to squirm.

“We were talking about the pretty lady at the counter,” Dani eventually volunteered. “Jamie brought her up.”

Jamie snorted, like he was fighting for his life against laughter. Roy squinted at him and grunted.

“Doesn’t she look nice, Coach?”

Ooh, this was fucking evil shit. By asking, Jamie was forcing him to look over at her, knowing full well how expressive his eyebrows were. Jamie was getting annoyingly smart.

Roy turned to look at Splits, then quickly back to the boys. “She’s fine, like most people. Now get started with your game, before I decide to cancel team bonding time and make you fucking run home!”

Exchanging looks, Dani, Colin, and Isaac started bowling. Jamie grinned at his mentor one last time before joining in. They were all unfortunately on the lane next to Roy’s, so he would have to deal with them for the rest of the time they would be there.

Bowling did prove to be a good distraction. Everyone was equally terrible – except Higgins, of course – so the competition was fierce, and spares and strikes were celebrated loudly. Even Roy found himself relax slightly, and he was one of the worst bowlers of the lot. He had to put up with Jamie’s suggestive glances, and all of the Diamond Dogs on his lane, but he had people, and it was nice to feel surrounded rather than alone.

Higgins obviously won the day. With O’Brian winning among the non-bowlers after two games, AFC Richmond were ready to go home. Will began gathering everybody’s shoes. As Roy untied his, he had a stupid idea and started helping. The younger man seemed surprised, but happy for the help. Pretty soon, he and Roy both had armfuls of shoes.

“You go on ahead, Will. I’ll make sure none of these idiots have left anything behind,” Roy offered. He wanted Will done and gone from the counter when he went up. The team were already loading onto the bus, so he wouldn’t have to worry about any nosy players or obnoxious Tartts. Will was thanking Splits before he left, and a line of people was waiting between him and Roy. The manager shifted his weight to better balance the mountain of bowling shoes in his arms.

“I’m so sorry for the wait!” called Splits in the midst of charging a credit card. “You can dump those on the counter and I’ll deal with them later. You don’t have to wait.”

“I’m fine waiting. No rush.”

Truthfully, the shoes were becoming harder to balance by the second, but Roy Kent was determined. He would talk to Splits.

Finally, he was next in line. He did his best to set down the pile gracefully, but there were just too many shoes. He got them all on the counter without any falling, and that would have to do. Splits smiled, and Roy’s wait was made worth it.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll just count them real quick and make sure I have them all.”

“Take your time. I wouldn’t put it past one of these clowns to wear a pair home without fucking realizing it.”

“It happens more often than you’d think.”

There were a few beats of silence while she counted. Roy didn’t want to distract her, but he also didn’t want to lose the chance to speak with her. If only he hadn’t ignored small talk all these years!

“Your accent is different. Not in a bad way, I just can’t place it. Have you been in England long?”

“A few years,” she replied. “My dad was Army, so I grew up moving almost every year. I guess I picked up bits and pieces of whatever the local accents were.”

“That’s cool.” Roy had the distinct feeling that he was dangerously close to seeming extremely lame. “But you’ve stayed?”

“Obviously,” laughed Splits. “I like it here. I’ve never really had a group of my own, but here, it feels like I’m the closest to having it. I have all the shoes, by the way, so you’re good to go, Coach Kent.”

“Hmm. Cheers.”

Roy made no move to leave. He knew he should, but he hadn’t made any real progress here. He cleared his throat.

“Right. Well… Hope to see you around.”

“You, too!”

She seemed to react positively. Proud of himself, Roy turned and left. If he seemed less Roy-ish to anybody on the coach, none of them commented on it. Roy was in good spirits until he replayed the interaction in his mind.

He still hadn’t asked for her name.

He was a fucking idiot.

Tag list: @preciousbabypeter @harry-bowie-mercury @amieinghigh

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 5- Overstimulation

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female Reader

Word counting: 1.9k

Rating: 18+

Warning: Brief alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), desk sex, fingering, swearing, use of safeword.

Masterlist

The fact that Jack’s position as the CEO of Statesman Distillery demanded a lot from him always have been clear to you. The thing is: sometimes Jack didn’t know when to stop and put the work aside, and then you decided that it’d be your job to change his mind. Most of the time, just sitting on his lap and demanding his attention was enough for him to forget about the paperwork, but there were those times when that annoying workaholic manner showed up, those times when, after coming back home around 6 pm, he’d easily remain in front of his computer and pile of files until midnight if you didn’t stop him.

Usually, this behavior used to last only for a day or two, and was easy to take Jack out of it, but on that week, it was starting to get unbearable. It started on a Sunday night when he claimed he needed to give a last check on the paperwork for the next Monday, but then, he gave you the same explanation for the following six days, and you were getting done with all that.

Saturday, after a couple of glasses of wine, you decided that your limit had been hit. Being sitting on the couch watching a movie and drinking alone at 5 p.m. on a Saturday, while your husband was locked in his office for the last three hours was almost depressing.

Deciding to put an end to that, you walked through the hallway and entered Jack’s office without even bothering to knock on the door. When he noticed your presence, you were already sitting on the edge of his desk and closing his laptop with not much delicacy. Jack looked at you with a frown, still wearing his reading glasses, and raised one eyebrow while waiting for an explanation.

“We gonna stay on this ‘till when?” you inquired while crossing your arms.

“What are you talking about, honey?” he asked clueless, placing his forearms on the armrests of his chair

“I’m talking about the fact that seems that Statesman is your wife and I’m the third wheel here.” Judging by the silence and the tip of his tongue rubbing on his upper lip, you knew that he got what was the problem.

“Fair enough.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before looking at you again “But, honey, you need to understand…”

“Don’t you dare finish this sentence.” You interrupted him and rolled your eyes “Do we have any unsolved fight that I’m not aware of?”

“No, we don’t.” he sounded confused while answering.

“What’s the matter then? Middle age-crisis? Your testosterone levels are low? Are you banging your secretary? Do you want to divorce? What the fuck is happening to you, Jack?” you narrowed your eyes when he chuckled and shook his head.

“It ain’t nothing of that, sugar.” He assured, still having a smirk on his face.

“So can I have my damn husband back or it’s time for me to go to the sex shop?” Jack couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“Your whole problem is just the fact that we’re not having sex?” he asked with that dangerously gorgeous cocky smirk.

“It’s not just that, but this is for sure a considerable part of the problem.” You shrugged.

“C’mere, sugar.” He said while patting one of his thighs and of course, you didn’t flinch before moving and getting mounted on his lap “You’re right, okay? I’ve been an ass with you these last days.” Jack passed his arms around your waist and kissed your collarbone “But I think you can forgive me, right?” he asked while kissing your neck.

“Depends.” You said while leaning your head to the side, letting your neck more exposed to him “What am I gaining for forgiving you?”

“Y’know I’m a fair man, honeybee.” Jack kissed your neck a few times before nibbling your chin and looking at you “I’ll give you exactly what you want.” You wanted so badly to make things more difficult for him, but you never have been able to resist when he looked at you with those puppy eyes, and his hands caressing your thighs for sure didn’t help you to resist.

“Fine, cowboy.” You said while approaching your face, resting your forehead on his “I think I can have mercy on you.”

“I knew my pretty lady wouldn’t be mean to me.” He bit your lower lip softly as his hands finally reached your butt under your dress, making him smile widely with the realization that you had nothing on under it. “You’re getting too naughty, Mrs. Daniels.” You chuckled and passed your arms around his neck.

“Well, why would I bother with panties when my husband wasn’t interested in taking ’em off?” you raised both of your eyebrows and knew you had pushed the right buttons when Jack moved his hand to hold the back of your neck.

“Oh honey, you’ll regret not controlling your pretty mouth.” He didn’t give you time to think and kissed you hungrily, just now realizing how much he had missed and was desperate for you.

Jack had no hesitation while moving his hands to the buttons in the front of your dress and opening them, getting you rid of the fabric in the blink of an eye. You were about to start to work on his shirt too, but he didn’t give you the chance, sitting you on his desk and moving from his chair to kneel between your legs, laying your thighs on his shoulders.

The amount of time without his touch made you even more desperate for him when he started to kiss your inner thighs and, at the very moment his mouth was just a few inches away from your cunt, you already were soaked, needing him more than ever.

“Fuck…” you whimpered with closed eyes and grabbed Jack’s hair when his tongue finally slid through your throbbing core. You were starting to get calmer and used to that sensation, but of course, your husband wouldn’t make things easy for you and his next move was cowardly lick and suck your already swollen and hipper-sensitive clit, giving you no choice but moan audibly and squeeze his head between your thighs.

Most of the time, Jack would take it easy with you, sometimes even making you beg for more, but the situation was a bit different that time. He didn’t give you a second to breathe or try to calm down, eating you relentlessly while his hands caressed your whole body, groping your curves handful. You tried with all your efforts to hold back a little more, not even noticing when your free hand crumpled a few papers that were on the desk, too carried away to care if they were important.

You moaned loudly when finally reached your orgasm, feeling your hips moving involuntarily, and sighing softly when Jack kissed your thigh. Your eyes remained closed, but the sudden touch on your sensitive clit made you open your eyes and look down, just to see Jack’s thumb rubbing your clit while his index and middle finger moved inside you, not allowing you to calm down before making you squirm and moan again. While observing you failing miserably to try to control yourself, Jack pushed everything on his desk to the side, making a few items fall on the floor, and, judging by the noise, you could swear that his laptop was among these items.

Carefully, he leaned you down, laying your torso on the wooden surface without ever interrupting his work between your legs, making you whimper and contort, not surprisingly feeling that it wouldn’t need much more for you to cum again. Jack leaned forward and braced himself in one hand to kiss your neck, aware of the effects it would have on you. The joint of the unfairly precise move of his hand and the delicious scratching of his mustache on your skin became too much in these circumstances and you gave up trying to control your body, just letting go and enjoying the feeling of another climax.

When you felt Jack pulling his fingers out of you, you were sure that now he’d give you a moment to calm down and you couldn’t be more wrong. Before you could even process that the low noise you’ve heard was Jack’s belt being undone and his fly being opened, he already was sliding his cock inside you, making you whimper and breath heavily; you were still unable to calm down the effects of all the previous stimulation and he was giving you more to deal with. With a ton of effort, you propped up on your elbows, looking at him with a pleading expression.

“Jack,” his name was moaned out of your lips “It’s too much.” The smirk on his lips just made you sure that his intention was exactly that.

“You wanted my attention, honeybee, so you’ll have it.” He mocked while passing your legs around his hips “Furthermore,” he caressed your lower lip with his thumb while speaking “I’m pretty sure my beautiful wife can take it.” You couldn’t hold back a defeated chuckle, sucking his thumb in a teasing way.

“You’re a cruel motherfucker.” you said with your breath irregular, making him laugh.

“Maybe I am, but, judging by your state, I’m sure you like it.” He teased, referring to the fact that, once more, you were pathetically turned on and wet.

“You know I do.” You admitted with a smile, giving up on trying to argue with him.

“The answer I expected.” His cocky smile was brighter than ever “Now come here, my love.” Jack grabbed your neck and pulled you to him, sitting you again on the desk and kissing you intensely while starting to slam his hips against you, resulting in you letting out a scandalous moan. He kept one arm around your waist while kissing your neck and whispering the sweetest compliments in this world with a calm tone as if he wasn’t railing you.

His free hand moved to between your legs again, destroying the crumbs of self-control you had recovered. You allowed your body to get filled with that good sensation that was growing on your lower stomach and sank your face into the curve of his neck, passing your arms around him and pulling him closer with your legs, making him let out a hoarse moan. It was the last straw, then, once more, you felt your body succumbing to the orgasm. Jack kept his steady pace, smiling while seeing you starting to move involuntarily even more, getting overwhelmed with everything. You were feeling too much, it was too much. Even loving every piece of that moment and being unmeasurably happy for finally having your husband back, you were too sensitive and overloaded with sensation to bear more of that.

“Yellow.” You mumbled one of the safewords you two have established and Jack promptly stopped everything, looking worried at you.

“You’re okay, sugar?” he asked while making you lift your head and look at him. You nodded softly while regaining your breath and self-control.

“I just need a little break.” You said after a moment, making Jack smirk.

“Oh honey, trust me, you’ll need a few more breaks before we’re done.” He answered in his usual convinced tone and held your face gently between his hands, kissing you softly.

Cowboytober Masterlist

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 10 - Dutch x Reader

This is it, angels! The last chapter of the Mr Van der Linde mini-fic. This has been an absolute joy to write, thank you for allowing me to indulge in my fantasy and for being the most wonderful group of enablers a writer could ever ask for. The response to this story has been much more than I expected, and I’ve had the best time sharing it with you. Thank you endlessly for your support and hype <3

It's on ao3, if you'd rather read there!

Summary: You deal with the consequences of your actions.

Word count: 9,037

Content warnings: smoking, drug use

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

You’d blocked Dutch’s number. It was the only thing left to do.  

It was the first action you took upon getting on that train. You knew that if you heard his voice or read a single word from him, you’d cave.

The level of agony you felt was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Your heart was broken, so much so that you were surprised the thing was still able to beat. All of a sudden, two of the most important people in your life were strangers. The man you loved, and your best friend.  

God, you missed them.  

You missed John’s laugh down the phone, or the way his eyes grew heavy after he’d had one too many drinks. You missed the way he’d snuggle into you while hungover or come and see you just so you could sit in a comfortable silence together. He was about to become a father, and there you went piling more stress onto his already heavy load.  

It didn’t bear thinking about how much you missed Dutch. It was too painful to even list the things you loved the most about him, that you knew you’d never get to experience again.  

It was a miracle that your other friends were still speaking to you. The boys had been quiet, siding more so with John but not quite willing to cut you out completely. The girls still got in touch with you regularly, and you weren’t sure what you’d do with yourself if they didn’t.  

Abigail updated you on her pregnancy over the next few weeks, and it was like a knife to the chest at the realisation that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her baby, at least not for a long time.  

She and Karen had been distraught when you announced the news that you weren’t going to attend graduation, but you’d thought it through for long enough. Everyone would be there, family members included. You daren’t even think about how awkward the whole affair would be. Not going was the most sensible thing you could do, and being sensible was at the top of your current list of priorities.  

You’d received a call a week after the party from the job you interviewed for and were offered a place. Without the ability to share the news with those you wanted to hear it most, it’d only made you more depressed.  

It’d taken you a few days to type out the message to John. You started off by saying you were only going to try getting in touch with him this once since you couldn’t bring yourself to ask for his forgiveness; you knew it wasn’t something you deserved. Then, you’d explained how it happened. Sparing him the details, of course, you ran through the timeline of your and Dutch's relationship and gave him the full truth. It felt false and cliché when you started talking about how you hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it was true. To a point. You’d finished off by saying that you would always be there for him, should he ever decide he wanted to interact with you again. Then you clarified that you’d never expect him to and offered him one final apology.  

He’d read it not long after, and you were already prepared for him not to reply, so it wasn’t too much of a bluster when it went unanswered. There was a small, naïve part of you that clung to the possibility that he could, though.  

Graduation was one week away. You wanted it over with, even though you weren’t going, and had planned to take a social media break while everyone posted their smiling photos with relatives and friends.   

Curled up in bed, hiding from the world under your duvet was your most recent pastime as of late, you huffed and shut the book you weren’t able to read. Ever since that day at the Van der Linde’s, you had an awful tension headache that wouldn’t shift no matter what you did. So instead, you shut your eyes, hoping you’d fall into a nap to pass the time.  

After a few minutes, your phone began vibrating and with a tired grunt, you leaned over, becoming instantly more alert at the name that was on your screen.  

John.  

You held the phone in your hands like it would explode if you moved it too harshly, staring at the screen until the call rang out and the vibrating stopped.  

It had to have been an accident. You didn’t want to deal with the awkward scenario of picking up, to be faced with a spluttering John explaining it was a mistake. Then your phone buzzed again, this time with a message.  

Call me when you’re free.  

It was the longest you’d gone without breathing, your body forgetting its most basic survival instinct and going into complete shock. He was finally ready to yell at you, to call you all the names under the sun and explain how badly he wished he’d never met you. You wanted to throw the whole phone away, but he deserved the chance to have a go at you if it’s what he wanted, and you took a deep breath before pressing the call button by his name.  

Time had never moved as slowly as it had during the three rings that elapsed before they stopped, and then John spoke through the phone.  

“Hey.”  

Hearing his voice was enough to make you tear up, but you cleared your throat and willing yourself to remain steady. “Hi.”  

John sighed, and you could only imagine how nauseating it was for him to have to interact with you. “Abigail said you’re not coming to graduation.”  

“No, I’m not.”  

He sighed again, finding his words. “That don’t seem fair.”  

Your eyebrows pulled together, unable to make sense of where this conversation was going. “I don’t reckon I deserve fair,” you said, immediately hearing how self-pitying you sounded. “It’s fine, I don’t want to go anyway.”  

“We both know that’s not true.”  

“It doesn’t matter.” After a beat of silence, your emotions got the better of you. “John, I’m so sorry -”  

“Don’t.” He was stern but softened his voice for his next sentence. “I know we need to talk, but not like this.”  

Unsure what to say, you decided to allow John some room to speak further.  

“Come to graduation. We’re all staying at the house the night before,” you knew that already, just because you didn’t respond in the group chat didn’t mean you weren’t reading the messages, “before we have to pack up and leave.”  

The mere thought of being there with everyone, seeing them all with their families and then seeing Dutch too was enough to send your brain into overdrive. “I can’t.”  

“It won’t be the same without you.”  

You pressed your lips together, hoping to keep your composure just a little while longer. “John, I’m confused. Aren’t you mad at me? Don’t you hate me?”  

“Yes. Mad at you, I mean. I don’t hate you though. Trust me, I tried to,” he sounded reluctant to admit to it. “I’ve had time to think. And I know I’ll regret it if I know I didn’t at least try to get you to come.”  

“You know, I think I’d prefer it if you yelled at me.”  

John laughed mirthlessly. “Part of me wants to, but... it won’t do no good.”  

The silence hung between you, and despite all the things you wanted to say to him, you couldn’t find a single word.  

“Look,” he began. “You still mean a lot to me. You worked hard on this degree and truthfully... I wouldn’t have got mine if it weren’t for you. I want you there with me.”  

You choked, because you didn’t deserve him being so kind and he repeated your name for you to just nod, even though he obviously couldn’t see you. “Sorry,” you whispered, and while it was an apology for your lack of response, you used it as a chance to let out some of the apology hoard you had stored up.  

“Just come, alright? You can leave early if you want. Besides, the others want to see you too.”  

After a shaky breath, you decided it was worth a shot. Even if you went to the house the night before and didn’t attend the ceremony, it was worth a try. You said you’d try to rectify it if you could, and this could be the chance to take the first few steps towards that goal. “Alright. I’ll come.”  

Some of the tension dissipated through the phone, and you waited for John’s response. “Okay. See you next week.”  

Then he hung up.  

After the call ended, your phone navigated to the most recently used app, and you were met with your recent search history, mainly along the lines of can a person run out of tears and is anyone close to inventing time travel yet.  

Had that just happened? You checked the call logs to confirm that yes, it had. John had called you. He hadn’t yelled at you. He hadn’t so much as berated you. He said you meant a lot to him. He said he wanted to talk to you and see you at graduation.  

Holy shit. Your apprehension about not going was immeasurable compared with your apprehension about actually going.  

-

The entire train journey back to university had been spent with you fidgeting, your mind going a million miles an hour at the prospect of what you were about to face.   Karen and Abigail were overjoyed you’d agreed to come, and you had a sneaky suspicion Abigail had played a part in convincing John to get in touch with you, even if she wouldn’t admit it.  

Instead of taking a bus to your rented house like you usually would, you decided to take the walk to stretch your legs, get some fresh air, and prepare yourself for whatever greeted you when you got there.  

But when you did, it still wasn’t enough time. Panic seeped into your veins and your breaths grew short, so you took a seat on the half-wall that acted as a border around your poor excuse for a front garden.   No matter what, you couldn’t still your hands, and reluctantly pulled a cigarette out of the pack that resided in your pocket. You lit it, and once you were halfway done, you heard the front door open behind you.  

You daren’t look around, not wanting to face whoever had caught you wallowing in your guilt.  

But the door clicked shut, and footsteps down the front path preluded John taking a seat beside you.   

“I thought you only smoked casually.”  

“It helps,” you flicked the ash away, not meeting John’s face. “A little.”  

“I see.”  

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor with not a single clue on how to have this conversation.   

“How long you plan on sitting out here?” John asked.  

“Not sure,” you mumbled.  

“You know you can’t stay here forever.”  

After a short nod, you plucked up the courage to shift your gaze from the floor and to John. Your dismal state must’ve shown on your face, as he looked at you pitifully. “It's so fucked up,” you began, the tension needling under your skin. “I know it is, I’m so sorry. Sorrier than I know how to express.”   

“I believe you.”  

Why must he be so calm? Where was the John you knew, the one who’d pick a fight at the first opportunity – the one who’d slammed the door open when he’d caught you in the act? “Just yell at me or something, please. I can’t take it.”  

“Don’t rightly think I can, you looking all forlorn as you are,” he hummed, drumming his fingertips on the wall.  

Your face was already a permanent frown, but you felt it deepen. All you wanted to do was cry, even if that was the only thing you’d done over the past few weeks. It seemed a person couldn’t run out of tears, after all.  

John edged closer, and you immediately shook your head. “No, don’t comfort me, I don’t deserve it.”  

“You always do beat yourself up over stuff,” he scoffed gently.  

“No, John. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”  

“You don’t gotta keep saying that.”  

“I don’t know what else I can say.”  

He let out a short breath, stretching his neck out. “I do have one question for you.”  

Your nod in response was almost eager, willing to answer anything he asked.  

“Would you take it back if you could?  

“I –” you stopped to take a breath. “Yeah, of course.”  

“Funny.”  

“Why funny?”  

“Dad said he wouldn’t. And he said that’s what he was the sorriest about, that he’d do it all again given the chance.”  

You weren’t sure what to say, your heart clutching to hear such a thing but not wanting to show it on your face. You’d wondered how he’d taken the whole thing, the urge to ask Abigail had been strong but you knew you wouldn’t have been able to bear the answer either way. It didn't bear thinking about how much you missed him.  

“I have another question.”  

“Shoot.”  

“More of a clarification.”  

“Okay.”  

“You really are in love with each other, aren’t you?”  

You swallowed, shaking your head to look at your lap but you weren’t saying no, and John knew that. “It’s... I...” you sighed, having no more lies left in you. You met John’s concerned gaze.  

“It's okay,” he reassured stiffly.  

“No, it’s not okay. Nothing about it is okay. You mean the world to me,” you pressed your lips together to stop them from quivering as tears gathered in your eyes once more. “None of it matters now,” you added dejectedly.  

John shifted beside you, finally taking his gaze away and instead planting it somewhere ahead of him. “I think it does.”  

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly.  

“He’s been... Well, he’s not been good. He’s sorry, to me, but mainly he’s... Heartbroken, I guess. He’s been so happy recently, we’ve all noticed it, and now he’s just... Not.”  

It pained you to hear how hurt he was. Knowing you were the cause of his pain, denying him even a single word turned your stomach even more. “Oh, I’m... Sorry.”  

John sighed. “I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy. That’s what means the most to me.”  

“I’m sure we’ll both be fine, eventually. Like I said, it’s not important how either of us feel. We did an awful fucking thing, and I guess we both deserve to feel like shit.”  

“That’s just it,” John paused as you stubbed out your cig with your foot, “maybe being happy is what you deserve.”  

You glanced at him, trepidation and anxiety set into his features. He looked so much older, somehow.  

“I’m not saying I’ve forgiven you. Certainly ain’t forgiven him. I’m not saying I’m your biggest fan right now, either. But I just need a bit of time to get used to it. It ain’t worth losing you,” he said pointedly. “You know what my momma said to me, before she passed?”   John seldom spoke of his mother, and your ears perked up at the privilege of being his audience. “She said one day, he was gonna love someone again. Said she knew it was hard to hear, hard to imagine him moving on, but that he wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t have someone to love. He loves love. Just the way he is. She also said it’d take him a good long while, and it did – I ain’t never seen him in a relationship since her. In her eyes, that meant that when he finally did move on, it would be with someone I could trust. She told me when the time came, to trust him. And to trust that the person he chose would be someone who cared for me, someone I could rely on.”  

Your eyes were brimming by that point, but you didn’t want to do him the disservice of looking away while he was being so raw.   

“She was right,” John shrugged.  

“You really look at what I’ve done,” you said hoarsely, fighting away a sob, “as the action of someone who cares for you? John, if I cared about you I would never have even let the thought cross my mind.”  

“Alright,” he nodded, a challenge, “what about everything else you’ve done in the last few years?”  

You blinked at him.  

“What about when you set me up with Abigail? What about when you convinced me to carry on at uni, even though I wanted to drop out? What about all the times you’ve looked after me when I was too drunk to see? What about all those deep chats we had late at night? What about when Abigail said she was keeping the baby, and you stayed up with me half the night until I finally slept?”  

You didn’t have a response for him.  

“I can’t forget all of that,” he said evenly, “even if right now I am mad at you. I know you, I know that you didn’t intend to hurt me with any of this.”  

“When did you get so grown up?” your face scrunched, John’s words a soothing balm over your open wounds.  

“Can’t expect my kid to turn out alright if I’m still acting like one.”  

“Makes sense.”  

“I’m not saying it won’t be weird, but... I can learn to deal with it.”  

You looked at him with mild incredulity, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. “You can’t be serious.”  

“I am.”  

Again, your eyes filled up and you couldn’t stop the tears, holding your fingertips under your eyes to catch them.  

John shuffled closer once again and hesitated, but then put his arm around your shoulders, and you didn’t have it in you to resist nestling into his embrace. “Goddamnit woman,” he scoffed, his voice lighter and more familiar, “will you quit crying already?”  

“Can’t help it,” you sniffed.  

John rested his head on top of yours and you squeezed your eyes shut, wondering what you did to deserve such a wonderful friend.  

After a time, when your tears had dried and your breathing regulated, the two of you ventured inside and were greeted with the sight of your four other friends lazing around in the living room.  

You looked at them sheepishly, but they smiled in response, seemingly relieved to see you and John on the way to being on good terms.  

At first, it was uncomfortable. The situation was somewhat of an elephant in the room, but it didn’t seem like anyone was up for bringing up the topic. These were your final days altogether, the last remaining part of your lives that made you students. After this, while you’d remain friends, you’d never be living together all under the same roof again. You didn’t need another excuse to cry, so you didn’t spend any more time chasing that train of thought.  

Eventually, the conversation flowed easier, and it was almost like you were existing in a time months ago, where you hadn’t made any terrible choices and your friends hadn’t found out about them.  

“Still can’t believe we’re meeting your infamous da,” Abigail mocked Sean, who grinned back at her.  

“Oh, he’s excited to meet the lot of you, too. I assured him you weren’t all a pompous bunch.”  

“My dad’s coming too. Hey,” Javier pointed at you, “make sure you don’t fuck him.”  

You glared at Javier, but at the snorts of laughter around the room you couldn’t help but break into a reluctantly amused smirk. “I have no intention of doing such a thing.”  

“Did you have the intention to fuck Mr Van der Linde?”  

“Can we not.”  

Thankfully, even John was laughing, and while you thought the subject was still too tender to poke fun at, you agreed that this may be the easy way of getting it out in the open.  

“Hey,” John said, “part of the deal with you fucking my dad is that we’re allowed to tease you for it.”  

You shrunk into your seat. “I was not aware of that condition.”   

“No? Would you like my permission to be revoked?”  

You huffed, thoroughly left without a leg to stand on. “No. Fine.”  

Denying John the right to hold this over you, likely for the rest of your life, wasn’t something you could do. If he had to pick on you and tease you, then you’d allow it, so long as it meant the two of you could remain friends.  

The six of you settled into a familiar rhythm, laughing and joking until you were all too tired to continue.  

-

When morning came around and you and the girls began getting ready together, your heart tugged at just how much you valued your sisterhood with them. Despite it all, they’d remained your friends, checked up on you, and attempted to provide a sense of normalcy in your life.  

“Are you nervous?” Abigail spoke into the concentrated silence, all three of you working on your makeup.  

You glanced in your propped-up mirror to see her reflection behind you, awaiting a response. “I assume you’re not talking about walking across the stage.”  

She shook her head in the negative.   Given the past few weeks, you’d had enough practice banishing thoughts of Dutch from your mind that you’d grown rather good at it. That had included today, where you’d disallowed yourself to picture the ways your reunion could play out.   

“I suppose I am a little.”  

“Surely you’re excited, though?” Karen added on, sounding rather excited herself.  

“Why would I be?”  

“Well,” she drawled, “you clearly love the man. Ain’t there a part of you eager to be all lovey-dovey with him again?”  

You turned to frown at her face-on, instead of through the reflection in your mirror. “What? No - I’m not going to carry on seeing him.”  

They observed you, puzzled, and Abigail decided on a response.   “But I thought that was what you agreed on, with John?”  

“He said he’d find a way to deal with it. He shouldn’t have to do that,” you turned back to your mirror and continued preening. “I’m not going to start things up with Dutch again,” you lamented.  

They didn’t question it, but you could feel their confusion in the air. You couldn’t blame them. They decided not to probe the subject further.  

Sure, John had said he’d deal with it. He’d said he wanted you both to be happy. But before all that, you vowed to yourself that you’d do anything to have a friendship with him, and would you really be true to your word if you actively extended his discomfort?  

John’s blessing had been music to your ears at first. But being so forgiving was easier said than done – who's to say he wouldn’t grow to resent you, the damage to your friendship being irreparable? It wasn’t a risk you could take.  

-

Thankfully, the ceremony was the first thing on the agenda that day. There were no awkward encounters to be had, and you got to walk across the stage without falling over and receive your degree in relative peace. Again, you’d actively pushed the prospect of seeing Dutch again out of your mind until you were forced to deal with it in real-time.  

But once the ceremony was finished, it was time for everyone to socialise in the sunny courtyard while the graduates took photos with their family and friends, leaving nowhere left for you to hide. Unless...  

Thanks to your newfound habit, you excused yourself once the six of you had taken a group picture, proof that you had in fact been there, and had at least waited a few minutes before running away.  

There was a quiet alley round the side of the main building, the wall of which you leaned up against and brought your newly lit cigarette to your lips. It was nice to decompress, and with all that’d happened in the last twenty-four hours alone, it was nice to have some peace.  

You took your time, eventually lighting a second cigarette and deciding this would not be a healthy habit to keep up.  

“When did you start smoking?”  

That cigarette was nearly choked into your mouth at the baritone of Dutch’s voice, one you hadn’t heard in a longer while than you cared to admit.  

You had to face him at some point, you supposed. At least this wasn’t in front of a whole group of people.  

Slowly, you turned, the man himself coming into view. His hands were casually in his pockets, and as always, his suit was immaculate, and hair perfectly styled. There was one noticeable difference though; he looked tired.  

“Gives me an excuse to escape. Plus,” you shunted the cigarette up a bit, “I miss the taste.” You looked at his lips, the hundreds of drunken kisses the two of you had shared that always had an underlying hint of tobacco. Dutch brushed his fingertips over your hand, and you pulled away, refusing to meet his gaze.   

“Please, I can’t.”  

“Didn’t John speak to you?”  

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not okay with it, regardless of what he says.”  

Dutch’s shoulders dropped, and he leaned on the wall opposite you. His gaze was fixed on you, and you eventually met it.  

The two of you looked at each other for a short while, and it was like you could read his mind, and tell him what you were thinking and feeling without saying a single word.  

You missed him, you were sorry, he missed you, he was sorry.  

More than anything, you wanted to wrap your arms around him and never let go, kiss him until your lips ached, and make a home in the crook of his neck.  

“You blocked my number.” It wasn’t a question.  

“I had to,” you took a drag and rolled the cigarette between your fingers once you’d dropped your hand back by your side.  

“Did you really? You couldn’t have at least said goodbye – after all we’ve been through?”  

“Don’t make me feel bad,” your tone came out angered, and you swiftly reeled yourself in. “I couldn’t feel any worse about the whole thing if I tried. There was no other choice, not if I wanted a chance at earning back John’s friendship.”  

“The way I hear it, the two of you are already getting on.”  

“He’s being kind. Kinder than I deserve and we’re a long way off repairing our friendship.”  

Dutch nodded, and it hurt to see the pain that’d made camp on his face.  

“How are things with the two of you?”  

“Long way off,” he echoed. “He didn’t speak to me for a while, but he’s starting to be civil. I’m surprised by him, truth be told.”  

“Why?”  

“He’s been real grown up about it all,” his lips twitched with an unmitigated fondness, “we talked it all out, and he actually listened to my side of it. That’s two of my boys out-manning me, now.”  

“Is Arthur okay?” you asked at the mention of him.  

“Yeah,” he said noncommittally, “not happy with me either, but can’t say I blame him. Especially not after the Molly business.”  

“I did try telling him you weren’t to blame.”  

“I know.” The look he gave you was grateful, and you couldn’t only imagine the grief he’d received from the two men.  

It was surreal to see him standing there. You wondered if you’d even remember this conversation in a week's time, or whether it’d be some lucid recollection you wouldn’t be able to pick out words from.   

“Did you hear back about that interview?”  

You nodded. “They offered me a job.”  

Despite his saddened expression, a glint of pride broke its way through. “Congrats. You’ll do well there, should you decide to take it.”  

“Thanks.” It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d pictured in your mind before all this nasty business, instead, it’d be Dutch pulling you into a boisterous embrace and immediately coming up with a schedule to ensure the two of you saw each other regularly enough.  

His pained eyes glanced down your form and made their way back up to your face. The crease between his brows was permanently etched there now, it seemed.  

“I’m sorry they found out that way,” he said.  

“Me too. I don’t blame you for it.”  

“Please,” he took a hesitant step towards you. “Reconsider. Is it not worth us trying, at least? John’s okay with it -”  

“He is not. He’s only saying that because he feels obliged.”  

“That’s not true, he came to me to talk about it, said he wants us to be together -”  

“Do you not hear how insane that sounds? Why would he want his father and b- friend to be in a relationship?”  

“Sorry to interrupt,” John’s voice broke into your conversation as he strolled over to the pair of you, “but my ears were burning.”  

You both just looked at him, simmering back into your own spaces – it wasn’t a conscious decision to edge closer to Dutch.  

“You’re arguing,” he observed.  

“I -” you sighed, itching your brow, and abandoned your unformed sentence in favour of another drag from your cigarette.  

“This is meant to be a happy day,” Dutch said guiltily.  

“No, I know. I think I should go –”  

“No,” John put a hand on each of your shoulders, stopping you from walking away from the situation. “Look, I’ll be honest, I’m tired of him moping,” he gestured his head towards his father.  

Dutch slipped the cigarette from between your fingers and brought it to his mouth for a long drag. It was like static where his skin had brushed against yours, and your eyes lingered on his lips as he took a drag. He went to hand it back to you, but you shook your head.  

“Keep it.”  

“And I’m tired of you being so hard on yourself,” he narrowed his eyes at you, before looking between you both once more. “You shouldn’t have done what you did. You shouldn’t have gone behind my back for so long.”  

The pair of you glanced at each other, scolded but in agreement with him.  

“But I understand why you did. For the pair of you to do this, to take it this far – it must be something genuine.”  

More genuine than you cared to admit. Being without Dutch was like being without a limb.  

“You deserve the chance to test it out in the open. Ideally,” he huffed in mild amusement, “not too open. I don’t wanna watch you canoodling. But still. You do have my blessing,” he squeezed your shoulder, “and I’m not just saying that. I’ve thought about it, and I mean it.”  

There were no words, so you rested your hand over John’s that was still planted on his shoulder.   

“Thank you, son,” Dutch said, his voice cracking despite his hardened demeanour.  

“Now,” John lightened his tone and the mood, “from what I hear they’re about to open the bar. And I don’t know about either of you but I sure as hell need a drink.”  

“I sure do,” you agreed quietly, and Dutch beckoned for the two of you to proceed, and you all made your way over to the bar.  

-

After John’s talk, you began to settle into the idea of trying again with Dutch. You were still hesitant, but since Dutch had reminded you to unblock his number, he’d messaged you regularly and gently brought you around to the idea.  

So, you’d started talking more frequently, general chitchat and while it wasn’t quite the same, you found yourself valuing his conversation much more than you had previously. Still, you were hesitant to visit him, but Dutch agreed to ease back into the relationship, and going long periods without seeing him wasn’t an alien concept to you considering that’d been the norm for over two years.  

It was only a few more weeks until John messaged the group chat saying Abigail had gone into labour, and he’d sent you a private message saying it might be a good time for you to go to his house, considering nobody would be there and you could have some alone time together.  

Dutch too had messaged you, and you allowed your chest to grow warm at the thought of them colluding to convince you to come round. He’d confirmed the house was empty save for him, Tilly spending half of her summer staying at Arthur and Charles’ place.  

You decided to bite the bullet and agreed, getting the train that same day before you had a chance to chicken out. Unsurprisingly, Dutch stood firm in his decision to pick you up from the station.  

The car journey to his house had been quiet, the two of you not knowing where you stood or how to approach the situation. Arriving at his house and seeing the big stone driveway was enough to make your heartbeat quicken, the memory of your last visit resurfacing.   

Dutch had made you a hot drink, and the two of you were sat outside in the late evening summer sun, thankful for the chirping birds that filled the silence.   

“If you’re uncomfortable, please tell me. I’ll take you home, and I won’t be offended,” he said gently.  

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you settled him, “it’s just a little strange as all. Didn't think I'd ever be here again.”  

After a long sigh, Dutch shifted in his seat, angling himself towards you as though he had a secret he wanted only you to hear. “I have a plan.”  

You raised your eyebrows at him. “A plan for what?”  

“Making you a little more comfortable.”  

“Let’s hear it.”  

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt.  

You couldn’t resist laughing, looking at him in shock. “You want to get high?”  

“Why not?”  

“Because,” you began, though no reason came to mind why you shouldn’t. “Because - is that a good idea?”  

“Course. Might help us loosen up a little.” His charming smile made you feel all fuzzy – his under eyes were less dark than when you’d seen him last and he looked overall more like himself. He was dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, and you were appreciative of the delightful view of those hairy forearms of his.  

“I didn’t even know you got high.”  

“Where do you think John gets it?”  

“You sell drugs?” your face shifted from shocked to understanding, “no wonder you’re so rich.”  

“I do not sell drugs.”  

“No. Just to your son?”  

“No, I don’t want him buying overpriced shit from some sketchy dealer. If he’s going to do drugs, he’s going to at least do good drugs. Besides, I don’t support the criminalisation of it.”  

“Right,” you laughed, not wanting to spur him onto his well-worn soap box. “Well then,” you plucked it from his fingers to rest it between your teeth and reached into his pocket where you knew he kept his lighter, relishing in the tensing of his thighs, and flicked it on to light the end of the joint. “Let us not waste any time.”  

You blew out the smoke and handed it to him, his face looking close to boyish with his grin in response. “I like your attitude.” Dutch took an inhale of his own, and either you really did have a thing for guys when they smoked or this was some strong stuff, because you began to feel all tingly.  

Relaxing back on the bench, you took in the view of the garden and tipped your head back, allowing the sun to graze over your face. “I have missed being here.”  

“I’ve missed having you here,” Dutch said, and you cracked an eye open at him, to see him observing you fondly. “I’m glad, in a way.”  

“About what?”  

“It happening the way it did.”  

“Why?”  

“We don’t have to hide it any longer,” he rested his arm on the bench behind you, “the sneaking around was growing tiresome.”  

“I suppose,” you took the blunt from him and brought it to your lips. “Still, not sure I’ll ever recover from that look on John’s face.”  

“Let’s not go back there right now. I’ve spent too much time in that space recently.”  

You handed the joint back to him thoughtfully. “Has your mental health been okay?”  

Dutch chuckled knowingly. “It has not. Thankfully, I’ve learnt to recognise the unhealthy thought patterns, and I was on a higher dose of medication for a while.”  

“You’re not now?”  

“No,” he shook his head, blowing out the smoke. “After John’s talk, after I could speak to you again – it all calmed down.”  

“I see. I’m sorry you were suffering.”  

“That’s alright,” he shrugged, passing the joint over to you. Dutch was going to say something else when your phone buzzed, and you pulled it from your pocket, expression brightening at what greeted you on the screen.  

“Congratulations are in order,” you tilted the screen towards him, and he looked over your shoulder at the photo of a baby clutched in Abigail’s arms with John leaning over, a tired grin on his face.  

Dutch’s face softened into excitement, and he took his reading glasses from his pocket to place them on his face and get a better look. “Oh my, look at that.”  

Another photo came through, a close-up of the baby accompanied by a message from John sent to the group chat.  

Jack’s here. Abigail had a tough delivery, but she was great, and we now officially have a healthy son. Can’t wait for you all to meet him.  

Very to the point, and very on-brand for John. “Jack,” you crooned, “that’s lovely.”  

Dutch patted his pocket, scoffing. “My phone’s in the kitchen, let me go text him.”  

“You remember the weed, but not your phone while your grandson is being born?”  

“Oh hush,” he muttered as he walked into the house.  

He returned a few minutes later, while you’d messaged your congratulations along with the rest of your friends.  

“How’s it feel to be a grandfather?”  

“Good, oddly enough,” Dutch settled beside you, noticeably closer than he had been previously, but you didn’t mind. He took the joint from you and had a couple of drags.  

“He’s gorgeous,” you smiled, and the two of you settled into a rhythm of smoking and chatting while the sun bathed you in its rays.   

It was a lovely evening, and it wasn’t long before the joint was burnt out and you’d slowly slipped to be nestled into Dutch’s side, his head resting on yours and fingertips running over your palm.   The two of you remained like that, fully relaxed and happy just to be near each other, the odd shift in position the only thing to break the peaceful silence.  

The movement of Dutch’s fingers had transmuted to the brushing of his palm up your arm, and you tilted your head to look at him. His hands felt so good, so firm and warm, his rings leaving a cool trail in their wake.  

He glanced down at you, face content, and you couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous he was.  

“I’m hungry.”  

“I can order -”  

You cupped his jaw and attached your lips to his, not sure you could wait a single moment longer. The two of you still hadn’t shared a kiss since you’d arrived, and the weeks of longing to have his lips on yours had been agonising.   

“Oh,” he said once you’d pulled away.   

You laughed softly, edging closer despite already being pressed up against him. His eyes had already grown hungry too, and you realised you weren’t hungry at all. You were ravenous.  

The two of you demanded the next kiss at the same time, one not nearly enough to make up for all those you’d missed out on. He gripped your waist, and you twisted your hand into the collar of his shirt, the two of you not willing to part with the taste of each other's mouths.   

“Darlin’,” he breathed when you both finally surfaced for air, and you touched the tip of your nose to his. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed that.”  

“Believe me,” you pecked the corner of his mouth, “I do.”  

He ran a hand over your hair and tilted his head when your expression turned devious. “Do I even want to ask?”  

You shook your head and stood, leaving him still leaning forward where your body was now absent. “I’d rather show.”  

With that you walked into the house, Dutch’s rushed and uneven footsteps soon following behind.  

“What are we doing?” he said, excited, as you led him towards the study.  

Once there, you sat on his desk and parted your legs. “I believe we have some unfinished business.”  

“Oh,” he smirked and stopped in his tracks, running a hand through his hair and visibly less rigid thanks to the herbs in his system.   

His eyes were fixed on the spot between your thighs as he stalked towards you, reaching his hands out and gripping your thighs once he was close enough, pulling them even further apart and growling from his chest as he nestled his crotch between them. You bit down on your lip when you felt how hard he was, becoming acutely aware of how much wetter you were than usual, likely a mix of your heightened senses and the given circumstance.  

“I do admire your thoroughness, miss,” he murmured into your ear, trailing his lips over your lobe and down your neck.  

You sighed weakly into the air and let your eyes fall shut, thighs attempting to tighten around him, but his grip was like iron as he kept your thighs in place. Then his lips were gone, and you opened your eyes to see that he was too. You looked down to find him knelt between your legs. “Thirsty?” you teased, and he grinned up at you, black pupils taking up almost all of his iris’.   

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he pushed the material of the dress up your legs and nuzzled his nose into your mound. “I do love you in a summer dress,” he murmured, and you could feel the vibrations from his baritone.  

Dutch chuckled at your feeble attempt of pushing your hips closer to him, not relenting with his grip.   

“Don’t worry sweet girl, I don’t have it in me to tease you right now.”  

There was no time to answer before his mouth was on you, pressing over the wet material of your underwear. Dutch licked up your slit, tangling his tongue with the fabric and you whined, placing your hands behind you on the cool wood of his desk.   

“That’s it,” he said, taking your underwear between his teeth to move it to the side, “let me hear you.”  

You glanced down at him, the infatuation plain on his face as he stared at your dripping pussy. “What happened to not teasing me?”  

“This is not teasing. Do you want to see teasing?”  

“Dutch,” you warned, and he could hear the seriousness filter through your playful tone.  

“Not tonight,” he decided, and dived right into his favourite meal.  

Dutch kissed and sucked your skin, the responsiveness of your pussy providing him with more hydration than he could manage to take in, but he appeared up for the challenge. Gentle flicks of his tongue over your clit turned into a deep drag of it over your inner walls and you gasped his name repeatedly as he thoroughly lavished you with his tongue.  

Your ecstatic orgasm came around fast, and you were sure you didn’t breathe for a minute straight as he drank up all you could give him. His hands had you trapped in place so you were powerless to buck your hips and instead had to let it all go right there, and Dutch was panting when he removed his mouth from you.  

“Du -”  

He pulled you into a kiss by the back of your neck, using his other hand to undo his jeans and shuck them down far enough to pull out his cock and ease into your accommodating cunt.  

“Good lord,” he groaned, unable to focus on kissing you as your walls tensed, begging for his cock to never leave the home it found itself nestled in. “I never,” he gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger once he’d pulled himself together, “want to go so long without your pussy again.”  

“Deal,” you kissed him, spotting the small window of opportunity while he was distracted to pull your legs from his grip and wrap them around his hips, coaxing him even further in and he let out a pained whimper.   

His hands grabbed the swell of either side of your ass, experimentally offering a few slight thrusts, but the sensation was enough to drive you wild. His thick cock felt perfect, and you mused whether that was the extra limb you’d been missing all this time.    

The small thrusts turned to longer, languid ones that had you whining, Dutch obsessive with the way he clung to your body and began fucking you stupid.  

Nothing else mattered aside from the euphoric pleasure racing through your body, being drilled into and marked by Dutch in what you assumed was every way he could think of. Nips to your collarbones, fingertips digging into your flesh, pussy fucked so deeply the skin felt raw. You didn’t care. The two of you were together again, and as was always the case when you fell into each other’s arms, the world was right again.  

“Shit,” Dutch grunted, blinking his eyes tightly as he watched himself disappear into you at a reckless pace, now not the time for tender loving. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing your nose against his neck and breathing in the sheen of sweat on his skin. He was being greedy, his brain chasing one thing, the only thing that mattered at that moment. “It’s like you were made for me,” he began to babble to himself, and you knew he was close, so you held your own approaching orgasm until he was ready, “you’re so perfect, s-so fucking -”  

Even words began to fail him as your body overtook every one of his thoughts, and that was a sentiment you shared as he fucked you deep and you cried out Dutch, because what other words were there?  

He came hard, leaking into you as he pressed his hips forward, the desk jolting with the motion and you allowed your release to finally come too. His hands searched for an anchor, landing on the small of your back as he held you to him until he was completely empty.  

The air around the two of you hummed, your bodies becoming soft and pliant at the familiar comfort of having your arms wrapped around each other. Eventually, each of you inched away to get a good look at the other.  

Dutch’s eyelids were heavy, lips still shining with the remnants of you, and his hair had fallen around his face. He took in the view of you too and relaxed into a content smile, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, a tender act considering how hard he’d just defiled you. Neither of you had anything to say that would surmount the feelings you were experiencing in that moment.  

So, you remained silent, breathing in one another until you were finally ready to face him pulling out.  

As he tidied himself up, you leaned back on his desk and glanced to the side of his desk, noticing a picture frame. You took it in your hands and laughed minimally at the subject of the photo. “I can’t believe you have a picture of me here but not John.”  

Despite the situation, Dutch'd made sure you get a photo with you at your graduation, you not realising he’d intended for it to take pride of place on his (now tainted) desk.  

“I look better in this photo,” he said matter-of-factly. His expression softened when you raised your brows in questioning. “Or, perhaps you just make me look good.”  

You shook your head, for him to shrug himself of judgement and join you in admiring the photo after he’d planted a kiss on your forehead.  

It was true; you did look good together.  

-

You’d intended to only stay at Dutch’s for a few days but found yourself not wanting to leave his side. In the end, you’d gone home for a single night to grab more stuff and made your way back to him first thing the next morning.  

The day finally came when Abigail and John returned, and you watched them from the window as they made their way up the driveway, a carrier in hand. Dutch’d been fretting about the nursery – which the blue spare room had been turned into, and you were glad you hadn’t needed to part with ‘your’ room even if you did stay in Dutch’s - and whether it had everything it needed, despite already buying far too much stuff. Little Jack was surely going to be spoilt.   

While you were overjoyed to get to spend so much time with the baby, Abigail and John were also happy to have you and Dutch on hand to take over when they needed a break, you ended up returning home for a time after being there for a couple of weeks, the start date at your new job just around the corner.  

Since you spent the majority of your time working from home, it didn’t matter whether you stayed at your house or Dutch’s. Not wanting to rush too much into your relationship, or crowd the new family under the roof, you and Dutch agreed to a few nights a week at his place, then you'd spend the rest of it at yours. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t attempt to convince you to stay one extra night every time you had to leave, though.  

Being around John while staying with his father had been awkward at first. But soon, as with all change, it became the new normal. It was nice, really, having him and Abigail so close by. It hadn’t taken long for Jack to become your favourite member of the family.  

It was a few months down the line, and the Van der Linde house was full. John had worked through his nerves, but having family on hand, he’d begun taking fatherhood in his stride. He’d been grateful for you too, and you couldn’t deny that you were secretly pleased about having the advantage of the chance to be Jack’s favourite Auntie, aside from Tilly of course.  

You were all in the garden after Dutch’d done a small barbeque, you stood by the table bobbing little Jack in your arms. “I do love being an auntie,” you expressed to the group, infatuated with the baby’s gorgeous cheeks.  

Abigail turned to you; her face pensive. “Wouldn’t you be his step-grandma?”  

Not that you’d expected anything less, but even Abigail had taken to the now-popular hobby of teasing you. Somehow, even Dutch had gotten in on the action. He snickered, John’s laugh echoing from the kitchen (his selective hearing was truly a wonder) before he walked outside and gave Abigail a proud kiss on the head.   

“Isn’t your momma just the funniest?” you said down to Jack, after taking an offended pause.  

She grinned at you, and you couldn’t help but return the smile.  

Eventually, you’d parted with your nephew (no, he was not your step-grandson no matter what anyone said) and began taking the plates into the kitchen, loading them up into the dishwasher.   

Dutch seized the opportunity to pat your ass as you were bent down, and you scoffed at him. “Perv.”  

He laughed easily, bringing in the cutlery and loading it in himself. After you’d turned on the washing machine, you both took to watching the small family through the window, sitting on a mat on the grass and marvelling at Jack who’d recently learnt how to roll over.  

“Now that kid will be a genius,” hummed Dutch, and you tutted at him.  

“Will you leave the poor boy alone before you start locking him up with the books?”  

Dutch ran his hands around your waist, holding you comfortably from behind, his warm and inviting torso a perfect cushion for your back. “I’ve half a mind to lock you up.”  

“Oh, I’m sorry – do I not allocate enough time to you?” you quipped, and he chuckled into your hair.  

“Not nearly enough to satiate me.”  

You tsked through your teeth, resting your hands on top of his.  

“I’m serious,” he added, and you glanced round to catch his eye.  

“Oh, come on, what now?”  

“I’ve been thinking...”  

“I’ve learnt to view that sentence as a warning.”  

Dutch’s eyes crinkled with his amusement, and he placed a kiss on your temple. “All I’m saying is I would love to have you here permanently. I say it not as a demand, not for something to do right now, but something to let brew in that wonderful mind of yours.”  

“And you say I’m the one always jumping to the next step,” you kissed him sweetly, and he tightened his hold around you as you looked back out the window.  

“It’s a mere suggestion, darlin’. Something for you to ponder when you find yourself bored.”  

All you could do was smirk, this irrevocably charming man always willing to prove his need to have, which you’d deduced was just another name for a more potent form of desire; a thing he seemed to have in bucket-loads for you. You rested your head back against him, revelling in the promise of comfort and belonging that kept you company whenever you found yourself in his arms.  

“Whatever you say, Mr Van der Linde.”  

a/n: hopefully none of you need the reminder but pls don't fuck your best friend's dad, author does not condone it. also I know Dutch would probably be an absolute nightmare on weed given his paranoia, but in this universe that’s not a thing because I don't want it to be :)

[loveislandthegame]

thoughts on todays volume ! this is completely unrelated to the plot, but i can’t stop laughing every time i see ethan now, because some people on the litg sub said he looks like hisoka 😭😭😭 moving on, give it up for volume FOUR of MC being single ! 🎉😀

FB saw everyone asking for the return of seasons 1-3 & decided to bring back the foot obsession instead

next up is sofia’s truth or dare, for the diamond “kiss the hottest islander” dare i chose jesse

the drama has been much more interesting this season, but it’s at the expense of MC being so...empty. we truly have nothing going on, despite being a day one bombshell. if FB didn’t rush these seasons we could have a balance of the other islanders having their own relationships/drama, & MC having a storyline of her own (by that, i mean beyond “everyone is obsessed with her, just because they want to smash or they’re jealous the person they’re coupled up with does,” imagine if cherrygate or operation nope were things you just had to watch unfold in the middle of a challenge)

what the hell, they brought back outfit shaming ?? or maybe it never left, but i was gagged when it tried taking me back to the closet and everything 😭 mind you, this is a diamond outfit

this game’s code is collapsing on itself, so i assume the problem is that the halloween items are being considered the free outfit. i refuse to change, the clothes are so cute !😡 (and i desperately need more goth fashion in this game, my MC is gonna be wearing tf out of this one and the one with the sheer sleeves)

next up we have dirty laundry, MC came out unscathed, probably because i picked “getting back with an ex without telling my friends” (i didn’t like any of the options but “giving the waiter your number on a date” sent me) and sofia is truly cartoon supervillain levels of evil

but i honestly don’t understand why the reason jesse has been friendzoning MC is because sofia lied about us being a cheater. you’d think he’d just avoid MC entirely (or even be a little bit antagonistic, that would’ve been interesting.) idk, it’s just strange that he’s perfectly fine with being close friends with a supposed cheater

and LISTEN 👹 do not drag me for this luv, i already know he’s getting ripped to shreds…hear me out, i think tristan is hot in that sleazy early 2000s nu metal way 😩 his body is melting a bit (seriously, wtf is wrong with his hand) but his face is adorable, and i love to see unique islanders. with that being said, im just gonna ignore him until we know he’s actually an LI & not just here for sofia (at least it’ll give jesse a chance to pursue MC, but knowing FB, they’ll probably have tristan pick us so we can’t be with our LI for another few weeks)

why on earth is the hideaway opening when MC and tristan are still single ?? this whole situation is a mess, but whatever, sexy crossword time 🤷🏽‍♀️ the word is secret, and lisbeth tells MC she wants to do bits on top of a mountain/hiking trail, something among those lines

there’s a really sweet scene with jesse, and sofia you will RUE the day—

overall…at least there’s finally going to be a recoupling, unfortunately it’s boys choice. hell will break loose if tristan chooses MC but i won’t mind, if he’s actually into us 😩 anyways, i never want to see people justify the particularly shitty aspects of this game, like poor LGBT rep, with “that’s just how the show is” ever again, because the actual show would’ve sent MC packing 3 weeks ago 😭

[valerileygreen]

@inception30daychallenge Day 17: How did the team spend the rest of the week on the first dream level?

2 days, 11 hours, 45 minutes.

That’s how long they’ve been here, and they still had almost 5 days before waking up.

Arthur was sure he’d go insane first. He hated sitting idly at the best of times, but here, with anxiety about Cobb and Saito’s fates and crippling guilt gnawing at him and nothing to distract him, it was a particular flavour of hell.

He let out a weary sigh and tightened his grip on the rail overlooking the city. He was alone. Eames still had a duty to look after Fisher and no one was talking to Yusuf right now. Ariadne had stayed with him for a while at first, relating what happened on the third level and Limbo and just keeping each other company, but when she decided to go back to their designated warehouse to rest he didn’t follow, needing to keep on the lookout for projections. 

It was admittedly a flimsy excuse, the projections had calmed down now that Fisher was, presumably, at peace with everything, and there were remarkably few of them in the area of the city the team had claimed for themselves at a distance from where Fisher was staying. But he had already fucked up far too much for one job, he wasn’t going to take any more risks.

He tensed as he heard approaching footsteps, but then he recognised who it was.

‘Eames. Shouldn’t you be with Fisher?’

‘But babysitting is so boring, darling. I reckoned your company would be more pleasant.’ Eames answered cheekily.

‘Piss off, Eames.’ Arthur turned away from him. ‘I’m not in the mood for your games.’

‘Mm, it appears I miscalculated the pleasantness of the occasion.’

Arthur snorted. ‘Seriously Eames, why are you here? In case you haven’t noticed we’re still in the middle of a job and you left the mark alone. Do you realize how irresponsible it is?’

‘Relax, Arthur. Fisher’s fine, I may also hazard that the inception worked. But he actually did ask for some time for himself, so…’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll just go check on him tomorrow.’ 

Eames leaned on the rail beside Arthur. ‘I’m more interested in seeing how you're holding up, honestly.’

Arthur rolled his eyes. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Ariadne doesn’t think so. And forgive me, Arthur, but looking at you,’ he gave Arthur a once-over with no trace of his usual leer. ‘I’m more inclined to believe her than you.’

Arthur scowled. ‘Ariadne can well mind her own damn business. And you as well.’ It came out less angry and more brittle than Arthur would have liked, and he looked away.

Eames gently bumped his shoulder to Arthur’s. ‘Come on, pet. Don’t be like that. You can’t blame her for being worried.’

‘I wish she didn’t. There’s no need.’

‘Debatable. And in any case it doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid. She’s a good sort. Did you know she’s already dragged Yusuf out of his shame corner? And probably lectured, psychoanalysed and then forgiven him, by the look of things. Next we know, she’s going to rope him into playing cards or chess or something equally ridiculous.’

Arthur huffed out a poor approximation of a laugh. ‘Has she, now? I bet she even told him what’s the best way to grovel and apologize to us.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s too smart for her own good. And too good for our kind of world.’

Eames chuckled. ‘She’ll rule dreamshare one day, let me tell you. She’s even better than Cobb.’ And like that the mood sank again.

‘So is that what got you all doom and gloom, now?’ Eames asked after a minute with a sigh, far more softly than before, and Arthur felt a surge of rage.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Eames! Of course it is! How can you be so unaffected?’ He snapped irritably. ‘Cobb and Saito are gone and lost in Limbo, and we’re still trapped here for days and not truly safe till we wake up and out of the plane, and we don’t know if and how they’ll be able to wake up at all, and if they don’t who knows what the hell expects all of us once we land, and it’s all my fucking fault!’ His voice kept rising and becoming more frantic as he got more and more worked up. ‘It’s my fault for being unable to do something so fucking simple as checking if he was militarized, and now all our fucking lives are hanging by thread! And for what? For nothing, no one!’

‘Enough!’ Eames grasped at his shoulder and shook it a little, the contact and firm order both so unexpected that stopped Arthur in his tracks. Then lower, gentler. ‘Enough, darling. Please. You can’t do this to yourself. You can’t take the blame for every single thing that went wrong. Not everything is neatly recorded, and even if it was, you had more than enough on your plate and no matter how hard you try you’re not a robot. Unexpected shit happens all the time. It’s not your fault.’

Eames started rubbing his thumb on the soft skin of his neck soothingly, and Arthur didn’t deserve it but he was weak, he was so fraught and exhausted that he couldn’t bring himself to shake his hand off, greedy for Eames’ warmth. ‘But it is. We wouldn’t be in this situation if we had known about the militarization.’ He said brokenly.

‘Or if we had known about the sedative.’ Eames grumbled. 

And yeah, okay, Eames had a point, that betrayal still stung. But still, it wouldn’t have been such a problem if he had done his own goddamn job. ‘But-’

Eames interrupted him right away with a squeeze of his shoulder, his gaze so intense Arthur felt himself unravelling under it. ‘But nothing, Arthur. You fucked up, okay, that’s true. But the mess we’re in isn’t just your fault. That knowledge wouldn’t have protected us fully anyway. Maybe Saito would have still been shot, or maybe you in an attempt to protect us, and then we would have been in even more trouble. We will never know. As we don’t yet know if Cobb and Saito are actually lost forever or not. But there’s no use despairing now, so let’s try to stay optimist instead, yeah?’

‘Eames…’ Arthur choked around the lump in his throat, and his vision turned blurry.

Eames suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around him. ‘Oh, Arthur, please, stop torturing yourself for it. You did the best you could. And even if it wasn’t enough, even if Cobb and Saito won’t wake up, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Together. But Cobb already came back from Limbo once. So, and I can’t believe I’m really saying this about that bastard, have faith in him.’

It was just too much, the last shreds of his facade crumbled and Arthur buried his head in Eames’ neck and cried all his frustration and exhaustion and grief, while Eames merely held him close and whispered sweet reassurances.

When his tears subsided he didn’t move, a bit embarrassed by his outburst, but Eames didn’t comment, merely asked if he felt better.

‘Not really. But maybe-’ Arthur let out a shuddering breath and finally lifted his head to look at Eames. He was smiling, sad and impossibly fond, and Arthur’s heart squeezed. ‘Maybe you’re right. If there’s someone who can come out of Limbo it’s Cobb, so we have reason to hope. I’ll try not to worry about it so much.’

Eames’ smile brightened. ‘That’s the spirit, love. And lucky for you, I know the perfect distraction from life’s troubles. How about we go teach Ariadne and Yusuf proper poker? We’ll make him lose all the extra money he’s unduly earned as punishment.’

Arthur let Eames drag him away in companionable silence.

It didn’t last long.

‘So.’ Eames started. ‘What happened in your level? It was only a fraction of a second so I can’t be sure, but I’d bet what I saw wasn’t the ceiling of the room.’

And so Arthur told him about how he fought projections in zero gravity and improvised the kick by exploding the elevator.

Eames’ eyes widened more and more, and when the story was finished he stopped them. ‘Why are you being so bloody modest? That’s genius. Never let anyone tell you you have no imagination. You saved us, Arthur!’

‘That’s you, I believe.’ But a small smile was playing on his lips.

‘Well, sometimes I’m an idiot.’ And he kissed Arthur soundly, and Arthur couldn't help kissing back, it had been so long. 

They pulled apart at the same moment and rested their foreheads against each other. ‘Darling, what are you doing after this?’

Arthur’s heart was pounding, but he was still the pointman and ensuring everyone's safety had to be his top priority. ‘Assuming everything goes right, we’ll need to separate, just like we planned.’

‘Can’t we just leave together? Just the two of us.’ Eames pleaded.

‘No. It’s too risky,’ Arthur reasoned, sounding regretful. ‘And I’m long due for a visit home.’

‘Oh. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. But after that we will talk, right? About… this.’ He gestured helplessly between them, and his eyes were so huge and hopeful, mirroring the same longing Arthur felt, and Arthur couldn't resist.

‘Yeah.’ Arthur promised, entwining their fingers. ‘We’ll talk later.’

It was still raining, but Arthur felt lighter, a ray of hope in the shape of Eames had finally pierced through the thick clouds in his mind. Things were still a mess and very uncertain, and there was nothing to be done now till they woke up, but no matter what the future held, he wouldn’t have to go through it alone. He smiled.

[waterfallofspace]

Entertainment Comes In Many Forms.

The one in which G/ojo has a cold, a meeting with someone he despises, and a boyfriend with a snz!kink who will also be in attendance. Also known as, G/ojo teases N/anami endlessly while in public, and also gets to torment principal Y/oshinobu (who has ‘a thing about germs’). Two birds with one exaggerated cold.  WELP, it was sure to happen, G/ojo (and J/JK in general) has been SO on my mind recently. Bear with me, it’s my first time writing these guys, so I don’t claim to have them down yet!! Buuuuut, I’m absolutely in love with G/ojo, so I had to do something with him~~ Bit of a shorter one this time, though I have a few ideas for longer J/JK stories if anyone’s interested! To anyone who bothers to read this, thank you! And I hope you enjoy~~ (References to swearing, and snz!fucker play (borderline smut), in case anyone doesn’t like those)  Characters: G/ojo, N/anami, Principal Y/oshinobu, and G/ojo’s cold.  Word count: 2k

It wasn’t like Gojo had planned to have a cold for this meeting. He’s good, but he’s not that good. It just so happens that fate was on his side this blessed fall day. He’d woken up with a scratchy throat a few days ago, which had morphed into congestion and a slight cough the next day, and by today, had grown into a full fledged cold.  The meeting with Nanami and the principal of Kyoto’s school had been planned for weeks, so technically if he had wanted to, he could have prepared for this, which honestly just made it feel sweeter to him. The fact that he hadn’t planned, everything was just working out his way. “Ihh’shuue-! haHH’TISHH’ieww-! hH’ISHH’iew-!” And then there was that. That had started yesterday, but came back in earnest today, just in time for the meeting. A smile breaks across Gojo’s face as he rubs his nose against his hand, delighted at the level of tickle that still buzzed within his sinuses. He was planning to put on a bit of a show, even wore his sunglasses instead of a blindfold for easier access to his eyes, but it was starting to look like his body was prepared to play its part all on its own.  Fashionably late, as always, Gojo takes his seat on the couch, the principal seated across from him on a chair, and Nanami to his left, leaning against the wall, seemingly waiting for Gojo to arrive before choosing a seat. “Aw, were you all waiting for me? How sweet!” Nanami sighs, taking his seat on the chair set just to the left of the couch, reclining just enough to cross one leg over the other. Gojo follows suit, offering a drippingly sweet smile. “We had to wait for you. You can’t have a three person meeting with only two of the people.” Gojo puts on a shocked expression, bringing his hand to his mouth. “You can’t? Oh my, that’s certainly news to me! I’m so sorry for the wait then gentlemen.” The principal remains silent, eyes clouded, but Gojo notices the twitch in his hands against his cane, smirking to himself. ‘Oh, this is gonna be even more fun than I had planned, he’s already on edge!’  “Shall we get started then, principal?”  “Yes. First item to talk about is-” “hhEH’ISHH’CHOOO-!”  Gojo let loose with that one, tacking on a ‘choo’ at the end for good measure, making sure to bring up a wrist to cover with. Gotta start off easy, can’t have them clueing into the game before it gets good.  “Wheew, sorry guys, snuck up on me. I’m battling a bit of a cold, been quite sneezy today.” His eyes flick over to Nanami as he practically purrs the word. His boyfriend shows no real reaction on the surface, but Gojo doesn’t miss the way his eyes trace Gojo’s nose, down his neck, and back up again. The principal, meanwhile, has leaned back in his chair. It’s slight, but it’s enough to get Gojo’s blood pumping. ‘Let round one commence.’  “Well, you can’t exactly be blamed for that. Though, you’d think one as powerful as yourself would have a better immune system.” Gojo just smiles, fake and full of chocolate-coated spite. “One would think that, wouldn’t they? Turns out, not the case, I’m still human after all.” “So it would seem.” The conversation is polite, but each word drips with alternate meanings and tones of deceit. Gojo lets a wet snffff- escape as the topic turns back to the meeting. He’s fairly uninterested in whatever nonsense the principal and Nanami are on about, good thing he expected this. “And so when it comes to training new sorcerers, we’ve decided on-” “Huhh-! heH’ASHHH’OOOO-! Oh scuuhhhse- hEH’KTSHH’CHHOO-! Scuse me!” This time Gojo pretends to bring his arm up, very obviously, and purposefully, missing it entirely. It delights him to see the principal physically wince, pulling back even further in his chair. Nanami, however, let out a noise that, on anyone else, would be classified as a whimper, before clearing his throat and offering a weak blessing. “B-bless you…” “Thank you! Snnfff- guhhh… Still itchy, but I think it’s done for now. What were we talking about before I so rudely interrupted?” The principal starts up again about, well to be honest Gojo doesn’t even know what they’re on about at this point. He’s much more focused on letting the wet cough pour out into his hands. It shakes him enough that the couch rattles, and Nanami gives him a look of sympathy. “You need some water?” Gojo clears his throat, coughing finally tapering off, making sure to give a light sniffle to relight the tickle that was starting to burn through his nose again. He subtly turned his head, making sure Nanami had a full view of his twitching nose, finger rubbing against it. The principal however, would have a great view of his hands not reaching up to cover these ones. “Snnfff- Nah, thank you though Nanami, what a dear! I’m ahhhlriight… heHH-! Uhhh… hAHH- hh’hEHH-! HAH’TISHHH’OOO-! ISHH-TSHHH-hH’ISHHH’CHOO-!”  “Disgusting, at least co-” He cuts the principal off with another shaky inhale, making direct eye contact with Nanami, and taking notice of the way his legs are nearly trembling, before succumbing to another,  “AHH’KSHHH’OOO-!uhhhh hehH! hH’ISHH’iew-! Ishh’iew-! Hh’tishh’iew-!”  A few smaller ones slip out before he can add anything to them, but that’s more than alright. Giving Nanami another glace, Gojo smirks at the way his mouth is practically hanging open. ‘Well well, if I didn’t know better Nanami, I’d say you’re drooling~’  His nose is still trembling, and he brings up a palm to rub at it. While this is all very entertaining, he’s still actually sick after all, so he takes a sip of the water Nanami had set beside him earlier. It delights him when this brings another round of harsh coughs, making sure to aim towards the principal. The man is practically sweating, his knuckles full white as they grip his cane. He’s even showing his eyes, a sure sign of how offput he is. They are wide, and almost vibrating with anxiety. Nanami’s are also fixed on him, but he’s vibrating with a completely different emotion. “Bless you.” It’s soft, weak even. Not a word normally associated with Nanami, but given how his teeth chew at his lip, it’s the best he can do. “Thank you!  Jeez sorry, it’s juhhhst so tickly. Really don’t know why it’s… ihhts… heH’ISHH’SHOOO-! Why it’s this bad today, guess it’s just a fast acting cold.” Gojo smirks yet again as his last words seem to pierce right into the principal, helped along by his utterly uncovered sneeze. The man is practically shaking, sweat dripping from him as he attempts to push his chair right back through the wall. Finally he’s had it, and Gojo gives an innocent smile with a questioning glance as the principal stands up. “Leaving so soon? Don’t we have more business to attend to?” The congestion that’s seeping into Gojo’s voice coaxes a slight moan from the direction of his boyfriend, but the principal seems too preoccupied with fleeing to notice. ‘Probably for the best, I doubt Nanami wants an audience to what, undoubtedly, he has planned for this next part.’  “It can wait for another day. I have… uh… urgent matters… to attend to…”  Normally Gojo would have called him out on such a bullshit excuse, but today he was eager for the principal to take his leave, so he remains silent. Silent, aside from another harsh set of coughing he aims towards the gap between the principal and the door.  Another smirk works over his face as he watches the principal’s eyes narrow, trying to find a way to get out of the room without crossing the line of fire. Eventually he just decides to brave it, quite nearly running out of the room.  As they’re left alone ‘at last’ Gojo lets his attention fall completely on Nanami. The man is still sitting, but his entire body is trembling, his eyes hungry with desire. “Just us now. Anything in particular you wanna d-” He’s cut off by Nanami springing up from his chair, and grabbing Gojo up off the couch. He spins him around, pressing him against the wall, before letting a faint whine escape his lips with his next words.  “You cruel bastard.” “What~? That’s no way to talk to your sick boyfriend, I’m miserable over here. I’m just so tiiihhhckly, and itchy, and I ha- ahhhh- hAH-! Have to sneehheze.”  “No.” Nanami responds, pinching Gojo’s twitching nose between his fingers. “You’ve been tormenting me for this whole meeting, it’s time to return the favour.” Now it’s Gojo’s turn to whine, his nose practically trembling at the feeling of Nanami’s grasp. “Oh come ohhhn Nanami, you can’t b- be sehhhh- hEH-HDT-!uhhhh serious! Touching it juuhhhhh- hehhh- ihHheHH!uhhh just m- makes it tiihhhhckle so much more… you know how se- hehhh- sensitive I am.”  Nanami gives Gojo a smirk, a wicked look in his eyes, before starting to gently rub his fingers back and forth. Gojo gasps, hands suddenly twitching as he fights the urge to pull Nanami’s fingers off. His eyes flutter shut, tears starting to pool in them at the desperation of the tickle.  “When I give you permission, you aim them where I tell you to.” “hehH- ihh…haaahh… hAH-! Guhhhh…”  “Okay, go ahead.” And with that, Nanami releases his grasp, giving Gojo’s nose one final flick, which at this point, was completely unnecessary.  “heH’NNGT-! Knngt-! hh’dngt-! nngxxt-! hEH-!uhhh… hhihHH’knNGT-! hH’NGTT’shoo-!” A low growl breaks loose from Nanami’s throat as Gojo directs the onslaught of ticklish stifles against his neck, biting his lip hard as he feels the warmth of his twitching nose press just under his ear. “Let them out.” “Hmm~? I’m snehhh- sneezing, what else could you possibly mean?” Gojo whispers, his hitching breaths blowing gently against Nanami’s ear. In response, Nanami practically moans, the only thing stopping him is Gojo’s hand pressed against his mouth. “Uh uh uh, not yet. I’m n- hahhh! not quite through with you just yet. Patience is a virtue, Naahhhhnami.” Hearing his name hitched through is almost enough to send Nanami over the edge, but he holds on, Gojo’s hand promisingly close to his hips. Gojo’s nose, on the other hand, is trembling. He gently rubs it along Nanami’s neck, letting a few desperate hitches escape against the warm skin. Feeling a desperate twitch, he presses his nose into Nanami’s shoulder, using it to stifle the next fit. “hH’NNgt-! nNGT-! ehh’DNGGT-!hehh… ihh-HEH’NGXT-!”  Nanami whines, pressing his waist into Gojo’s and biting his tongue hard to keep from moaning at the sensations of the warm trembling nose being rubbed back up to his ear. In response, Gojo lets out a purr, giving Nanami’s ear a soft bite, before finally offering some relief to them both. He lets his breath hitch, gently blowing on Nanami’s neck, before finally releasing against him with a moan that Nanami soon echoes. “hIHH’ISHH’IEW-!  Oh dea- hAH’ASHH’IEW-! Ishh’uee-! So tickly… itch- itchy… hheH’Tishh-tshhh-kshhh-ishhhh’iew-! hahH’KISHH’UUE-! I can’t s- hAH’ASHH’IEW-! Can’t sto- stop- hH’ESHH’ooo-! mMMFSSH’IEW-! Bless mehehhh- Eh’shh’uue-! ESHH’IEW-!”  Both of them are panting by the time he’s done, with Nanami practically licking his lips. “Bless you.” “Guhhh- thank you. Must be one hell of a cold, snfff- I don’t think I’ve sneezed that much without allergic interference snff- or inducing it along in, hmm…heH’ISHH’IEW-! Oh, scuse me- Probably years now.” “You’re all stuffy now.” Nanami purrs, lightly nibbling on Gojo’s neck, and relishing in the whimper it elicits from the sniffly man. “So it would seem. Any- snnffff- any remedies you can think of?” The question is laced with deeper meaning, and Nanami sinks his teeth into Gojo’s lips in response, letting their mouths meet with a deep, hungry kiss. Only breaking it when Gojo needs to gasp for air, no longer able to breathe through his nose. “I can think of a few things.”