#i most definitely went back into my room and screamed into my pillow

[vultursvolans]

RYU RYU !!! SELFSHIP WEDNESDAY !!!

how was your first date with lucifer like! what did you two do? was it all planned out or something more on the spontaneous side? was it fancy or more simple !! spill the deets :33 🎤

goooood morning sweet yue 🫶 how’s hisoka doing? i mean what? who said that…

the first date with lucifer, you ask? it was mostly planned to the last detail! with his meticulous schedule, i think he would have broken out in hives if it was spontaneous 🥴 (though, as our relationship grows he learns to enjoy the fun in being impulsive). the date was as fancy as you’d expect!

it began with a bit of shopping but when i wandered over to the lingerie section, i had to excuse myself from him because— well! that’s awkward! but blissfully unaware, lucifer sneaks up from behind just as i’m holding the most scandalous little set known to man. he gets utterly flustered when he realises but pretending to be cool and composed, he buys it for me. although ik he’s dying on the inside, sweating bullets trying not to imagine anything inappropriate.

the shopping leads to a lovely dinner and he loosens up a bit after some liquid courage (demonus). i couldn’t resist teasing him for going pink and he bounces back with some flirty remarks. that was supposed to be all for the date but we enjoyed each other’s company so much that we couldn’t bring ourselves to part ways just yet. so we went back to his office, let the gramophone play softly in the background while we chatted and debated into the wee hours of the morning, sipping on some drink i can’t even remember the name of. maybe with a few kissies in between. it was just… perfect!

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

What if...they met in college? (1)

Instead of being forced into espionage, Kat and Nat grew up in society like normal kids. But fate always forces them together. As roommates in college this time. One popular girl and one nerdy girl.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 4.7k • Warnings: none • A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @nataliasquote !!! This one is for you. The college AU you are so obsessed with. More parts to follow :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Katya

The hallways of the campus' dormitories were chaos. Bags, suitcases, instruments, and people, lots of people, blocked Katya's way as she tried to navigate her way to room 415. They bumped into her left and right, and screamed things in her ear as she parkoured over their stuff, yanking on the handle of her suitcase aggressively whenever it got stuck. 

Move-in day was busy, really busy. She meant to avoid rush hour by arriving early, but she'd gotten stuck in traffic. For two hours. Now her roommate had gotten to their room before she did and undoubtedly claimed the good side, probably leaving her with very little space and very possibly decorating the floor with the world's ugliest rug. 

Katya stopped halfway down the hall to catch her breath, dropping her heavy sports bag to the floor to give her poor, aching shoulder a break. With the back of her hand, she pushed her glasses up her nose and brushed some hair from her forehead. It would have been great to have some help. At the end of the hall, a girl had a whole team to help her move in. Parents, sister or friend, boyfriend or brother. But Katya didn't have anyone, so she had to take three roundtrips to the parking lot by herself.

With a sigh, she hoisted the bag up again and watched the room numbers climb the further she walked down the hall. The girls in room 410 had their door open, a song from fifteen years ago blasting from a portable speaker on their desks. They must know each other, because both their sides of the room were in coordinating colors. One of them caught Katya's nosy eye and gave her an awkward smile.

411, 412, 413, 414…

The door to room 415 was open. Katya stopped and took one last, deep breath before stepping into the doorway. 

She was right. Her roommate had already decorated her part of the room. Her eye immediately fell on the large rug between the beds. A fluffy, really soft looking beige one that looked very tempting for a nap. It suited the rest of the surprisingly calm decorations. 

White bed sheets with various neutral colored pillows on top, the subtle black and white prints on the wall, the beige colored plant pots, the fairylights that emitted a soft yellow glow, and the beige curtains that Katya also wasn't mad about. The only thing that held some color were the pictures on the corkboard above her headboard.

Whoever this girl was, she had good taste.

Katya dumped her suitcase by the unoccupied bed and threw her duffel bag on top, careful to avoid the rug with her shoes. The knot in her stomach unraveled a little bit. Maybe her worries about her roommate had been invalid. She had definitely been overthinking too much. It even smelled nice in here, like her roommate had lit a vanilla scented candle.

''Oh, you're here!'' A cheerful voice came from behind Katya. ''I went to pick up two muffins from downstairs because I was hungry and I figured you would be too.'' 

Katya turned around… and was met with the most stunning woman she'd ever seen in her entire life. 

The same height as her, lean build, fair skin—but that wasn't what Katya's gaze was drawn to. A pair of full, pink lips framed a beautiful wide smile that reached all the way up to her even more beautiful, sparkling green eyes. Her eyelashes were so long they nearly touched her perfectly defined eyebrows, and when she blinked, they brushed over her sharp cheekbones. Her nose wasn't small or pointy, and had a little bump that would make most people self-conscious, but fit her face so well that everyone would be jealous of it anyway.

But somehow, like that wasn't already enough to turn heads, this all paled in comparison to the long, slightly curly hair that fell down her shoulders. It was that kind of bright, deep red that non-redheads tried to achieve but never could. The kind that naturally looked darker in the winter and lit up slightly orange in the summer sun. Everchanging and unique, and part of the reason why Katya's heart was hammering in her chest. 

''I'm Natasha.''

Oh. My. God. 

Katya could not form a single thought. Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert in the middle of the summer. She could only stare. Stare at her roommate while she tried to fight off the gay panic that reduced her to a completely useless human being. 

This could not be happening. The girl she had to live with for a year could not be this excruciatingly attractive. Freshman year would be her end. 

Awkwardly, she cleared her throat when she saw that Natasha was waiting for a response, an amused eyebrow quirked up on her forehead. God, she was already making a fool of herself. ''Katya Petrova,'' she said shortly, her smile filled with embarrassment as she accepted the blueberry muffin Natasha kindly got her. Get yourself together, or she's gonna get tired of your weirdness quickly.

It wasn't physically possible, but Natasha's perfect eyes lit up even more. ''Russian?''

''Yeah.''

Her smile turned into a mysterious smirk that sent tingles down Katya's spine. ''Then we're gonna get along just fine,'' she said, and Katya couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of double meaning she was missing. Natasha looked at her like she was a meal, and her nerves intensified.

''Uh, thank you for the muffin,'' she blurted out.

''You're welcome,'' Natasha mused, totally cool as she leaned back against her desk. It was unfair, how she turned Katya into a complete mess while she remained confident and calm. But it was so attractive. Katya shivered as Natasha's green eyes slowly looked her up and down. ''I think I picked right. You look like a blueberry muffin girl.''

An awkward chuckle slipped past Katya's lips. She wanted to get away from that piercing gaze desperately, anything to think clearly again, but it wouldn't let her move. ''What does that mean?''

''I don't know.'' With a smirk—and intense eye contact—Natasha brought her ring finger to her lips and sucked the muffin crumbs off. Casually, she repeated the motion with her other fingers, her entire thumb disappearing in her mouth.

Katya felt her eyes widen, more gay panic flushing her veins until her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Images, ones she would never say out loud, filled her mind. Her lower stomach turned into knots while a blush covered her cheeks. She turned away, pretending to be really busy with unpacking. She swore she heard a soft chuckle behind her.

''I hope you don't mind the rug and the curtains. I took the liberty to decorate.''

''That's okay," Katya answered, having trouble remembering what the curtains even looked like. They were the very last thing on her mind as she rummaged aimlessly through her bag, hoping Natasha didn't notice that she wasn't doing anything.

''Is that all your stuff?''

Katya shook her head, risking a glance over her shoulder. She was relieved to see that Natasha's flirty expression had turned into something more puzzled. ''No, the rest is in my car.''

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Natasha's eyes visibly softened. ''Are you here alone?''

''Yes," Katya answered casually, ignoring the stab in her heart.

It stayed quiet a moment longer than normal, painfully so. These silences were nothing new. She'd started to expect them. On Mother's day, on Father's day, on Christmas, on Thanksgiving, but also moments like these, where she didn't know she would be missing parents until she was in the moment. 

''Does your family live far away?'' Natasha asked carefully.

''Sort of.''

She put her muffin down and uncrossed her arms. ''Let me help you carry the rest up. I can't possibly let you walk back and forth countless times while I take a nap,'' she joked lightheartedly.

''Oh, no, it's okay. Really. You don't have to help me," Katya refused, not in the mood for pity. But Natasha stood up straight and tied her beautiful hair into a perfect messy bun.

''Well, I want to," she said with a tone so definitive that Katya lost all her will to protest. "And I'm not taking no for an answer.'' She looked ready to tackle a big job. Hands on her Lululemon shorts-clad hips, sports shoes on her feet. And those lean arms…they could surely carry a few boxes.

Katya considered it for a moment, and then nodded. It would be nice to have some help. ''Okay then.'' Natasha flashed her a big smile.

Somehow, she faced none of the struggles from before—having to parkour her way through the halls. People seemed to get out of their way for Natasha, driven by some invisible force that must have been her confident aura.

Katya felt entirely unworthy to be walking next to her. They attracted lots of eyes, and the reason they looked at them certainly wasn't her red, sweaty face. Nobody noticed a dull brunette next to a redheaded goddess in gym shorts and a crop top. 

Natasha didn't seem to notice anything. She kept talking to Katya, completely comfortable yapping to someone she'd only met five minutes ago, while Katya tried not to let her gay panic turn into real, uncontrollable panic. She only heard half of what her roommate was saying.

''Hey, Nat!''

They were in the quad, a huge field of grass between the main campus buildings. Today, the main path was lined with stalls full of information and help. If someone couldn't find their dorm or there was another problem, they could visit here. 

A guy, looking older than her, had called Natasha's name from one of the stands, his hand in the air to grab her attention. Katya's first instinct was; football player. He had the build for it.

''Jason!" She smiled, not stopping to talk to him. "How are you?''

He was the fourth guy to greet her like that. Like he knew her. They all looked vastly different—though good-looking—and they all looked older. Some closer to twenty-four than eighteen. It was odd. Where did she know all of them from? Katya was starting to gain suspicions that her roommate may be more well-known around here than she thought.

"So, what's your thing?" Natasha asked suddenly. Katya had been brooding over her roommate's popularity so hard that she didn't realize she'd fallen silent. Or that they were close to the parking lot. 

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"What are you here for?" Natasha clarified, smiling when she still saw the confusion on Katya's face. "Law and dance, that's my thing. Studying law, and I'll be trying out for the dance team."

Katya didn't find this surprising at all. Natasha looked like that kind of person who could do it both. Arts and literature. Body and brains. Someone good at absolutely everything. It also explained her subtle muscles and lean figure. Of course, the gorgeous, popular girl was a dancer. What were the chances she was a cheerleader in high school?

"Of course, you are." Katya paled when she realized the words had escaped her.

Natasha smirked amusedly. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Katya said quickly. Her roommate's need to fluster her all the time was starting to get on her nerves. She fiddled with her car keys, smiling nervously. "I'm not as interesting as you, I'm afraid."

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with something flirty. "You interest me."

Heat rose on Katya's cheeks once more. She kept getting caught off guard by Natasha's simple yet effective smooth-talking. Everything she said seemed to have some sort of double meaning. Her body could not keep up with its reactions.

"History is my thing. History and literature. But the literature is just a hobby," she said awkwardly, trying to hide her red cheeks. Her studies and hobbies always sounded boring to begin with, but next to Natasha's they looked even worse. Katya grimaced. "I told you it's boring."

"No, it's not!" Natasha rushed to reassure her. "I've always envied people who could quote Hemmingway off the top of their heads. Are you one of those people?"

"Kind of." Katya smiled shyly when she realized that Natasha was being genuine. 

"That's cool." The redhead smiled. "Everyone has their own interests, don't be embarrassed of yours."

Katya wasn't used to the conversation going this way. It was a breath of fresh air. "Most people think it's lame," she said as she popped the trunk of her terribly plain and old Honda Civic.

Natasha shrugged, picking up the first box she saw. "People will always have opinions, so you are better off just doing what you like."

"Can't disagree." Katya smiled at her. Would things finally be different? Would she finally fit in somewhere? The day started off with lots of frustration but now the future looked very hopeful. Maybe she would finally feel at home somewhere.

It took the both of them three trips to get everything upstairs, after which Katya bought Natasha an iced coffee to thank her. She was drinking that as she scrolled on her phone and absentmindedly talked to Katya while Katya unpacked her stuff. 

Everything she had was in these boxes, her whole life. She had no family to store anything with, so all of it had to fit within the four walls of this room. There was some odd stuff in some of these boxes. But Natasha didn't ask her about anything. Overall, she had been nothing but considerate and an amazing roommate.

"This campus is full of disgusting boys."

Katya jumped. She had her back turned to the door, and with the business in the hallway hadn't heard someone stop in their doorway. It was a small blonde with her hands in her pockets. She looked annoyed, bored and disgusted all at the same time, like a moody teenager. Questionably, Katya looked at Natasha.

The woman sighed and put her phone down. "Kat, meet my little sister, Yelena. Yelena, this is Katya, my roommate."

As if she was only now realizing there was another person in the room, the blonde—Yelena—looked at Katya. Then she let out the loudest gasp. "Oh my god, they put you with a nerd." She laughed.

Katya blushed and looked away. That's not the first time she's heard that. In fact, people all throughout her life had taken the liberty of calling her that. It wasn't her looks per se—she didn't wear braces, outdated clothes, or thick-rimmed glasses. She was a normal kid, in normal clothes, with a delicate, modern-looking pair of glasses balancing on her nose. And, if Katya might say so herself, she wasn't ugly.

No, it was the things she did and liked that put a sticker on her. First of all, her introvertness and her shyness. It had gotten a lot better with age. She didn't stutter or stumble over her words as much anymore, but her shy nature stayed. It made that she never quite fit in with anyone. She didn't have big friend groups or hang around the popular kids. She usually had one good friend who she could sit in peaceful silence with.

Then there were the books, the literature, the movies she watched. Katya realized very young that she was different from the other girls in her class. She preferred the works of writers long gone, liked her movies black and white, and would rather spend her Friday afternoon reading than going to parties. They bullied her for having her lunch break in the library, reading alone, for getting an A on every test. Her interest lay with history, not with the latest Hollywood gossip. 

It shouldn't get to her, but in their cores, everyone wanted to belong, to be liked. She couldn't simply turn off her human instinct.

Natasha's hands curled into fists, and it looked like she was going to explode on her sister, until an older woman stepped into the room. Her hair was so dark brown it nearly looked black, and her face held a stern expression. She was also incredibly gorgeous. "Yelena Belova! That is not how I raised you!"

Yelena cringed. "Sorry, Mama," she muttered.

The woman's scowl disappeared as she turned to Katya, a warm, motherly smile appearing on her face instead. "Hello, my dear. I'm Melina, Natasha's mother. Please excuse my rude daughter. I promise I raised them both better than that."

A warm feeling flushed through Katya's body. "It's okay, ma'am. Natasha helped me carry the rest of my stuff up from my car."

"Good girl." Melina smiled proudly at her daughter. Natasha rolled her eyes, clearly not at ease with her family around a stranger. "If you don't need us anymore, Yelena and I will be leaving."

"Yes, please take her out of here." 

Anger flashed across Yelena's face. "I sacrificed my free day for you, you ungrateful—"

"Girls!" Melina sighed, shaking her head. With pity, she looked at Katya. "I wish you luck with her, my dear—"

"What does that mean?" Natasha exclaimed.

"---and be nice to each other. Natasha, if you need me, I'm just a call away."

"And just a town away." She rolled her green eyes again. "No need for emotional goodbyes."

"Well, I am gonna miss you."

"I'm not," Yelena mumbled under her breath, smiling innocently when her mother glared at her.

Natasha sighed and started to walk them out the door. Like a dog herding sheep. Katya tried not to laugh as Melina and Yelena stumbled over each other into the hallway. "Mhm, goodbye now. Thank you for helping me today." Natasha closed the door in their faces, locking it for good measure. A pleasant silence filled the room. "I'm sorry about her."

"It's alright." Katya shrugged, though her brain was still trying to process what just happened. "I'm used to being called a nerd. It's not an insult."

"She meant it as one. She's a dick." Natasha chewed on her lip, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of her sister's behavior. It meant a lot to Katya that it mattered so much to her.

"It's okay, Natasha, really." 

The redhead smiled carefully. "Melina is probably yelling at her now, though."

Katya laughed. "Their faces as you pushed them out the door..."

"If I hadn't, they would still be standing here, arguing." Natasha returned to her bed, falling back into the same position as before they were rudely interrupted. It already felt so domestic, so comfortable. They could exist together and do their own thing without bothering the other.

"Your sister is completely different from you, isn't she?" Katya asked as she continued her unpacking.

"Yes and no. She's more moody, sassy, rude." Katya chuckled when Natasha rolled her eyes. "But she's driven, hard working, and incredibly loyal to the people she loves. She will fight someone for you... Literally… She loves punching people."

Katya laughed. "She sounds like a good sister to have."

"She'll do." Natasha suddenly perked up, like someone flipped the switch of focus in her brain. Smirking, she studied the boxes on Katya's side of the room. "So, in which one of those is your lingerie?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Orientation had broken Katya's brain. She'd gotten so much information at once that she literally had a headache. A bad one. Add that to a bad night of sleep—only four hours in total because of her new surroundings and anxiety—and she was ready to crash.

She unlocked her door and stumbled into the room, not surprised to see it empty. Natasha's shoes were gone and her bed was made. From what Katya learned yesterday, she seemed to know a lot of people, so she was undoubtedly chatting with every person she ran into. Maybe she wouldn't even return until late. At least Katya had her number.

She took advantage of Natasha's absence to take a long shower. Then she drew the curtains closed and laid down for a nap, her headache already subsiding after chugging two glasses of water. Her eyelids were so heavy, sleep tugged on her brain… 

When her phone rang. 

Katya let out the loudest groan, hurting her head in the process. Who dared to interrupt her nap? Ideally, she would have ignored it, but it could be Natasha or somebody else important. Blindly, she felt around until her fingers wrapped around her phone, her eyes squinting against the bright light to read the name on the screen. 

Tony.

Yep, that made sense. That man always had the worst timing. 

"What?" Katya snapped.

"What a way to greet me. Are you busy?" He gasped dramatically, then lowered his voice. "Wait, are you finally getting laid?"

Katya sighed, the tips of her ears burning. Ever since he stopped seeing her as a kid, he was trying to get her laid. Unsuccessfully. "No."

"Then you got time for me. Did you get settled in?" 

"If you were actually here to help me, you would have known," she said accusingly. "But you're too busy slutting yourself out in Miami."

"Going on holidays is important," Tony said casually. Katya rolled her eyes. He wasn't vacationing, he was partying and drinking. Club music boomed in the background of the call. His classes didn't start for another week. "You know what's also important? If your roommate is hot."

Katya groaned, reaching for the curtain to tug it open. She was so glad this was not a FaceTime call, or he would have seen how red her face was. "I'm not entertaining you with an answer."

"So she is." His stupid grin could be heard in his voice. She wanted to slap him. "What's her name?"

Katya hesitated. Whenever she told him about her crushes, Tony would go and mingle. It wouldn't be the first time he scared one away, but if she didn't tell him now, he would show up next week on her doorstep. Even worse. "Natasha," she answered reluctantly. "You wouldn't like her, she's ginger."

"Wait. A Natasha with red hair? Does she have big tits and a great ass?"

As much as Katya wanted to yell at him for objectifying women, she couldn't help but blush. Of course, her gay ass had not been able to resist taking a look at Natasha's body. Subtly and respectfully, of course. Her thoughts had not been subtle or respectful though, but they were safely inside her head so it was okay. She wasn't that kind of person.

"She looks great, yes."

Exactly at that moment, Natasha freaking Romanoff herself burst through the door, looking incredible as always. Denim shorts, tank top, messy ponytail—Katya's heart skipped a beat. Nobody should look that good after a full day of walking around in the late summer heat. God, she was a mess for her. 

"Who looks great?" Natasha smirked, dropping her bag to the ground. "Some girl at orientation already grabbed your attention?"

"Uh—I…no. There's nobody," Katya stammered, watching wide-eyed as Natasha took the hair tie out her hair and shook all those gorgeous curls loose. Her biceps flexed subtly when she fluffed it up.

"Uhu. Better give me a chance too before you set your sights on someone," Natasha teased.

Katya's breath caught in her throat. Was she dreaming? "Y-You?"

"Yeah. Unless you're not into girls." Natasha smiled smugly when she glanced at Katya's stunned expression. "I thought so. Me too."

If this were a cartoon, Katya's eyeballs would have bulged out of her head. Surely, she was dreaming now. There was no way this was reality. "You're gay?"

Natasha shrugged, grabbing a towel from the cabinet. "I'm a little bit of everything. As long as it's hot and kissable, I'm kissing it." She smirked, and then she closed the bathroom door behind her like she hadn't just turned Katya's whole world upside down.

There was an error in her brain. Her brain had flatlined. Open-mouthed, Katya stared at the door her roommate had disappeared through. She was sweating. Did Natasha seriously just say that she is into girls and she wants a shot with her? Was her headache actually a stroke and was she hallucinating? 

"Shut the fuck up. Your roommate is Natasha Romanoff?" 

Katya jumped. She'd completely forgotten that she was on the phone with Tony, and that he just heard everything. Her heart was racing in her chest. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

He sighed. "You're hopeless. You need to get out more. She has a reputation for crashing college parties since she was 15. She's basically a legend."

It all made sense now. The guys who knew her, her popularity, why she knew her way around campus so well. She cuddled up with college guys while she was still in high school. 

How in the world did Katya, a nerd, get matched up with someone like what? Some funny forces were at play here. Someone up there must be laughing very hard.

"Okay, bye now." She just caught the start of Tony's protests when she cut off the call. She loved him, but she needed a moment to process these developments, and his endless yapping in her ear did not let her think clearly. 

He came into her life at a time where she needed someone the most. Orphaned since birth, Katya grew up in orphanages across the country. The last one she lived in, from age thirteen to literally last week, she met him. He'd protected her on the first day, when some older guys bullied her, and from there, he'd become her big brother. She saw him as that, too; family. Did he know Natasha personally?

Katya panicked when the shower turned off in the other room. Like, had a full-on silent panic attack. Not enough time had passed to process anything or to calm down. She couldn't face Natasha again. Not yet. What if she continued the conversation where it left off?

Quickly, she dived for her laptop and headphones, and put on the first TV show she could find. When Natasha came out of the bathroom, she didn't even spare her a glance. It was possibly the best performance of her life, pretending she was interested in her show and her heart wasn't pounding in her ears.

But Katya looked at her from the corner of her eye whenever she could, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing. Natasha seemed to be getting ready for something. She did her makeup and spent at least ten minutes in front of her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Katya's eyes widened when she came out of the bathroom in a short, tight party dress later. There were curves and skin everywhere.

Frowning, Katya slid her headphones off. "Are you going somewhere?"

Natasha smiled over her shoulder, slipping her earrings in. Her eyes looked incredibly bright with the dark eyeshadow around it. Mesmerizing. "There's a welcome-back party in the Kappa Delta Psi house." 

"Aren't those for older students?"

Amusement flickered across the redhead's face. "I have a fake ID." She grabbed a pair of heels from under her bed and slipped those on too. They made her toned legs look incredible, miles long. Katya tried not to drool. "You should come."

Katya quickly shook her head, her anxiety surging at the thought of a college party. "Oh, no, thank you. Parties are not really my thing."

Natasha chuckled, a beautiful sound that sent the butterflies in Katya's stomach into a frenzy. "Alright. I'll be back late. Don't wait up." She swung her small purse over her shoulder and set out for the door. Her beautiful hair swung left and right over her exposed back, her pale skin glowing in the light of the setting sun. She looked ethereal. Katya called her name before she decided to.

"Nat?"

With her hand hovering above the doorknob, Natasha looked back. "Yes?"

Katya wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful. That her hair was amazing, that her makeup was flawless, that the dress fit her perfectly. That she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. But the moment she opened her mouth, she chickened out. "Have fun."

A bright smile curled on her dark red lips. "Thanks."

[cupcakewebkinz]

I've been heavily inspired by my beloved Cat Vee Anon to write about Vee's nighttime shenanigans, so here you go. Vee with her silly cat behavior.

@soupiestzilla <- your special tag my dear mutual 😊

(No triggers as always, just fluff and a bit of chaos this time)

♡

It was around 1 am when Vee had stopped charging that night, and boy did she have the zoomies this time. She was sitting on the couch, fidgeting like crazy, having a huge need to run around and do something- anything- but she was trying desperately to hold back. She didn't want to wake up the other two as they were sleeping, but her body ached from how still she was, begging for her to move and get the spare energy out. Her antenna kept twitching, her eye was too, her body shaking and she kept having to hold back from making any noise, or she would absolutely be laughing at absolutely nothing right now. She had to be good... Until she just couldn't anymore. She jumped off the couch and crawled over to the corner, putting a pillow over her screen as she started uncontrollably giggling at nothing, trying to muffle herself the most she could to let them sleep, but she desperately needs to move. This will only get worse if she doesn't... She knew that, there were plenty of times she started going insane because she was trapped in Shelly Cuddles and couldn't move until she started laughing so loudly Shelly thought she was screaming. Vee really didn't know what she could do though... Maybe make breakfast? Yeah she'll do that. It'll help... Maybe. She slowly took a deep breath before she put the pillow down, holding back her giggles once more as she carefully got up, doing her best to just walk to the kitchen instead of running. That failed. She did five laps around the dining room table from pure zoomies before she was calm enough to focus again, though her zoomies definitely weren't over yet. She was still twitching as much as ever, giggling and full of energy, so she went back to trying to make them food. Though while she was on the counter to grab said food, she slipped and fell, falling right on her back on the floor with a frying pan falling right beside her. So much for being quiet... She groaned as she glanced at the pan, then smacked it for being too loud, causing another loud sound. She smacked it again and scolded it to be quieter, but it was still loud. Metal on metal isn't quiet... But Vee kept trying. She kept smacking it and scolding it, scooting across the kitchen floor while she did so. She must've looked stupid... But who cares, nobody's up. She soon was giggling like a maniac as she played with the pan across the floor, getting up into a crawl as she kept smacking it just to chase it. She was so stupid, but it was SO FUN. Soon Vee did another five laps around the dining room table as well, getting out her energy in the most chaotic ways possible, being a bit noisy but neither of them had came out and scolded her yet, so she stopped thinking about that. Though once the frying pan got boring, she was at a loss of what to do... Shelly would know though! She bolted to their room, giggling like a little kid getting christmas presents, and soon flopped onto her favorite fossil. Shelly woke up immediately with a jolt, obviously not expecting to be flopped onto like that.

"Owww... Vee... Why'd you do that..?" Shelly grumbled as she rubbed her eyes, not at all realizing what she was getting herself into. Vee sat up as she stared at her lover with huge eyes, a huge, unhinged smile forming on her screen as she started uncontrollably giggling again, and Shelly soon realized what exactly was going on as she slowly sat up, still dazed and mostly asleep.

"Oh Vee... You have such bad zoomies tonight, don't you-"

"Shelly I am going INSANE please HELP me..." Vee whined between her uncontroled giggles and laughs, getting a concerned smile and sigh from the barely awake fossil. Shelly very slowly got up and stretched, then held out her hand, but Vee didn't dare take it. She knew she was going to painfully drag Shelly around if she did, so she just shook her head before she ran off instead. Shelly yawned as she trudged behind, going to the living room to see Vee doing laps around there, jumping on and off the couch several times as well. Yeah they were really bad... Shelly wasn't awake enough for this, but she tried her hardest to be as she gently stopped the feral robot with her foot.

"Vee, slow down, you're going to hurt yourself." Shelly very softly warned, getting a few nods and laughs from the other, who was only laughing because she just had way too much energy. Shelly squinted as she tried to think of something that could keep her entertained, then realized she knew exactly what she could do and walked over to the closet, opening it to grab the guitar that was kept in there. Shanon never cared if Vee played music at night, Vee was desperate for a way to get her energy out, and Shelly herself honestly just wanted to go back to bed, so this would help. At least for a little while... Hopefully long enough to calm her down enough to actually be sane.

"Here, Vee, play your favorite song for me." Shelly softly suggested as she walked over and handed the jittery robot her guitar, watching as Vee carefully took it before bolting to the couch and sitting down, Shelly following and sitting down beside her. Vee waited and watched her, and when she was comfortable, she started to play and sing her favorite song from their show. Shelly just snuggled close before yawning, then gently resting her cheek on the back of the couch beside Vee, soon drifting off to sleep. Vee didn't mind at the moment, she was playing her music and vibing and having a great time, though once she played the songs she did want to play, she was back in her old predicament. Sure she was much calmer, but she still had energy. She looked at Shelly, who was cuddling her own arm with one hand and stucking her thumb silently, fast asleep, peaceful as could be. Vee watched her for a bit, watching her chest rise and fall slowly, rhythmically, feeling an odd sense of comfort from seeing her beloved so... Cozy. She wondered if being so comfortable would help, then she looked at a ball that had rolled inside. It was a clean soccer ball, one that Shelly and Shanon tended to kick around to each other out in the yard. Vee's antenna twitched as she thought, then she put her guitar down in a safe spot before pouncing on the ball, soon being the one flinging it around the living room, back to crawling around like a rabid dog. She didn't care, she was having a blast, nudging the ball with her head and chasing it around the room. She eventually lost all her energy and kicked the ball into its old spot, then she went and grabbed her guitar, putting it away too. Once everything was settled, and Vee had a normal amount of energy again, she went back to Shelly and sat next to her. She then nudged the other once. Twice. Three times. Shook her. Shelly slowly lifted her head and looked at her, seeing the calm expression on Vee's face and getting confused.

"Vee..? What's up now hon..?"

"You still love me right, Shelly? I'm still your favorite?" Vee asked, watching Shelly's expression closely. The fossil smiled and nodded, giving Vee a gentle pat on her head with her fully dry hand, the other still staying in her mouth.

"Of course Vee... You're still... My favorite... I love you very much..." Shelly drowsily replied before she yawned again, and soon was back to peacefully sleeping like she was before. Vee just smiled as she crawled onto her lap, then curled right up into a little ball, putting her monitor on her hands and closing her eyes. She could rest now... Everything was okay again.

Except there were pancake ingredients on the counter, spilled flour everywhere from her fall and a pan still on the floor. They'll just deal with that in the morning though...

[flurrys-creativity]

Happy Death Day

Pairing: Ateez (OT8) x GN!Reader; Genre: Royal AU, SMUT, PWP; Rating: nsfw, MDNI, 18+; Warnings: mentions of death sentences, mentions of prisoners, suggestive, oral (m receiving) eight different times, hints of becoming a concubine; Wordcount: 3.528

Summary: Once a month eight princes sat down to discuss the prisoners futures. So when it was your turn and they asked for your statement, you said something that would change your fate.

A/N: Due to someone sharing Ateez royal concept pictures in a server, my brain went wild. And after sharing my thoughts, I promised @sanjoongie to write it out. Also thanks to her as well as @daemour and @potatomountain for helping me figure out some details! As always please enjoy this and tell me what you think!

You silently watched as another prisoner got dragged to their feet and presented to the council of future kings. 

Ever since the old king died without a successor, six families came forth claiming the throne belonged to them. Though as none of them were able to back down, the sons of those families had to come together and work with equal leadership.

Each task the previous king fulfilled on his own was now distributed to the eight possible candidates. Only the biggest tasks were decided on together. Like Death Day.

Once a month prisoners of the country got presented in front of the council for them to decide on their fate. Some received redemption, others got sent back to prison for another month but most got sentenced to death. 

This month you were the last in line to hear your sentence. You watched silently how the other prisoners reacted to their fate - crying, screaming, literally throwing some tantrums. ‘Pathetic’, was the only thing you could think of and with each case you were more and more certain you wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of a similar reaction.

Two soldiers came to your sides and grabbed you by your elbows, pulling you to the front of the large throne room. They dropped you in front of the elevated eight thrones, ignoring how you fell down to your knees and silently groaned in pain.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and got up on your knees, placing your shackled hands on your lap and looking up towards the eight men on their respective thrones.

The thrones weren’t as lavish as the original one behind them. The throne of the old king still stood behind the row of make-shift thrones for the eight men. It seemed to be made out of pure gold and integrated into the floor with plush red pillows to make it more comfortable. 

The make-shift thrones didn’t appear that extravagant. Made out of dark wood and adorned with simple gold applications. Once the new king got chosen the thrones could be removed again as they weren’t connected to the ground.

As one of the men started retelling your supposed sins, you couldn’t care less to listen to it again. Instead your eyes drifted along the men, taking them in silently.

You noticed quickly how they wore similar uniforms. All of them were covered in the colours red, gold and black. 

On the far left from your point of view sat a man, who seemed quite large. He wore a hat, which covered half of his face. Yet you still felt his strong gaze on your form. Prince Song Mingi. His appearance was truly intimidating.

Next to him sat a man whose shoulders appeared to be even broader. He nursed a silver cup in his hand, hiding his subtle smirk behind it. Choi San. He curiously stared at you before he leaned over to his cousin.

Your eyes followed his motion, meeting the expression of a stone-faced man. Choi Jongho. Even under his uniform you could tell he was strong and a man of power. It felt as if every movement of his was calculated - same with calculating everything around him.

While his stare felt unsettling, it was nothing compared to the eyes of the man next to him. Kim Hongjoong definitely had the most unhinged aura surrounding himself. He listened intently to the words of Park Seonghwa, who sat right next to him and read all the information about you from a piece of paper.

He didn’t look up at you, solely focused on his task. Half of his face got hidden behind the paper but you could tell how stunning he looked anyway.

A sudden movement to his right brought your attention further along the line of thrones. Kang Yeosang leaned over to Seonghwa, trying to escape an incredibly touchy Jung Wooyoung with a pressed smile.

Wooyoung lounged on his throne more than sitting on it. His upper body half leaned over to Yeosang, where he tried to grab onto his arm. At the same time his feet dangled over the other side, hitting his overly uninterested cousin every now and then.

Your eyes landed on the large form of Jung Yunho. He rested his chin on his hand and leaned on the armrest of the throne, looking rather bored with the whole situation.

“Y/N?”

Your attention snapped back to Jongho, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Didn’t you listen?” He scoffed and shook his head, ignoring the snickering from some of the other men. “I asked for your statement on this matter.”

You tilted your head and blinked a few times to process the question. “What matter? The matter of my death sentence? Are you truly asking me to make a statement about the way I’m going to die?”

San snorted loudly, covering his mouth and face with his free hand.

Hongjoong looked rather amused. A soft grin playing over his lips.

Seonghwa finally lifted his eyes and stared at you, curiosity getting the best of him.

Even Wooyoung and Yeosang halted their spiel and turned to focus on you.

“So you’re not trying to talk yourself out of it? No heartfelt back story, no bribe?” 

You looked at Mingi, one side of your lips twitching into a smirk. “I didn’t know bribing was an option.” You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you took in the reactions of the eight princes in front of you.

Hongjoong gestured for the soldiers to leave the throne hall with a quick motion of his hand. Once the doors were shut behind them he leaned forward. “Currently your sentence is the guillotine. You’d need a rather good bribe to get out of that one.”

You hummed softly as if contemplating his words for a while. “No guillotine could take away the head I’m able to give.”

San choked on his drink yet again and started heavily coughing, needing Jongho to hit his back. Wooyoung leaned over to Yeosang with a wide grin, whispering something into his ear.

To your surprise though it was another prince, who stood up and called your attention. Yunho quietly walked over to you, stopping only a step away from your kneeling form. “Proof it.”

Your lips curled into a knowing grin. You raised your chin upwards, looking at him through your eyelashes. Even though he didn’t say anything else, his gaze was enough for you to know what he expected you to do.

You scooted closer to him without breaking eye contact. With your chained hands you wandered up along his long legs. With nimble fingers you opened his pants, well aware of the stares from the other princes.

Yunho crossed his arms in front of his chest. He refused to acknowledge the effect your touches and your eyes had on him. 

Another sly grin flashed over your lips. As much as he tried to keep composure, it was the little things that betrayed him. How the muscles on his thighs tensed, how his jaw ticked off or how his eyes got somewhat glassy.

You palmed his hardening dick through the fabric of his undergarments. You licked over your lips. The size underneath your fingertips made your mouth water and your imagination run wild. 

Hongjoong stood up from his own throne. He silently wandered to one side, wanting to have a better view of what was to come. Due to Yunho’s broad frame he wasn’t able to see you at all but he needed to know whether you could hold up to your own claim.

You pulled Yunho’s cock out of his restraints, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the base and pumping it ever so slowly. You moved your head closer to his crotch, kissing along his shaft and up to the head of the dick. 

A soft groan escaped Yunho’s throat and his head tilted back ever so slightly. He needed to focus again and it took him every ounce of self control to look back down. His breath hitched when you opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock.

You forgot about everything and everyone around you, solely focusing on Yunho’s dick. You opened your mouth further and descended on his cock, taking him deeper into your wet cave. 

“Fuck”, Yunho cursed under his breath, all composure forgotten now that you bobbed your head on his dick and looked at him with big, innocent eyes. His breath became more irregular with the fast pace you set.

As if possessed he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pushing you even further down his shaft. The soft garbled noises you made as he hit the back of your throat turned him on even more. 

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and you tried to relax your jaw and even your breathing to accommodate Yunho’s huge cock. Still, whenever he hit the back of your throat you couldn’t stop the gagging sound from escaping.

A string of more curses fell from Yunho’s lips until he suddenly stilled, shooting his load down your throat. 

Out of nowhere Wooyoung appeared in your line of view as he pulled Yunho away from you. He whistled in acknowledgement once he saw your empty mouth when you licked some spit from the corner of your lips. 

“Guess, our little prisoner proved it.” Jongho stood next to Hongjoong, observing the situation in front of him.

“What? No!” Wooyoung hurried to Yeosang and pulled him to your form as well. “Anyone can give head for one person! It gets interesting whether Y/N is able to give even more.” With that he positioned Yeosang right in front of your face and pulled his pants down, ignoring the weak protests of his friend.

Yeosang was already hard but when you glanced up at his face you noticed the deep red blush on his cheeks. He covered half of his face with one of his large hands, avoiding to look at you or any of the other princes. Yet he didn’t try to remove himself from the situation.

You kissed the tip of his dick, relishing in the shiver that ran through his whole body. For a while you only took the tip in, letting your tongue swirl around it and suck on it ever so gently. 

Yeosang whimpered, not even trying to keep silent. His eyelids fluttered shut. More and more tremors of pleasure ran through his body.

To both your surprises Wooyoung grabbed the back of your head and pushed you forward, holding you down on Yeosang’s cock. 

Your nose pressed against his sternum. The sudden movement made you choke around his dick, tears immediately running down your cheeks. You barely managed to breathe properly, feeling a slight sense of panic as Wooyoung didn’t let go of your head.

Yeosang on the other hand couldn’t help himself and came down your throat, moaning loudly with every spurt.

Wooyoung finally pulled you off of Yeosang. Though he didn’t give you any time to recover, pushing his own dick into your open mouth almost immediately. 

Your hands came up to his thighs, keeping you steady during the rough movements. After a few hard thrusts you were able to take over, making Wooyoung a moaning mess. You bobbed your head, varying the pace from moment to moment. Still, you wanted to edge him even more. You carefully pulled back your lips, grazing his shaft with your teeth. 

“Ah!” Wooyoung quivered from your ministrations. His knees wobbled dangerously and his whines became more and more desperate. “Please, fuck, please let me cum.”

You hollowed your cheeks, encouraging him to follow his pleas. Hot spurts of cum trickled down your throat.

Wooyoung came with an outcry. As soon as he finished, he stepped back on shaking legs. A thin line of spit connected your lips to his dick until he reached enough distance.

You observed him a moment longer as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked back at you with half lidded eyes, the pleasure still evident on his features.

“So far our little prisoner only handled one at a time”, Hongjoong stated with a wicked grin. He glanced over at Mingi and motioned him to come closer with a nod of his head.

You watched as both men moved over to your sides. Their height difference made your head spin with imaginations of what was to come. Your eyes switched between both men, barely noticing how they freed themselves and leisurely pumped their dicks. You could only focus on your rapidly beating heart and the heat building inside of your body.

Mingi tapped his dick against your cheek, moving your attention to his long cock. “Open up”, he told you with another tap - this time on your lips.

You followed his command without wasting a second, even letting your tongue roll out. 

“Listens quite well”, Mingi let the others know as he pushed himself into your awaiting mouth. He grunted deeply and placed his large hand on the top of your head, which nearly covered it completely.

Even with his hand on your head, you had to work for him. You chose the tempo and how deep you actually wanted to go. 

But just as you found your rhythm, Hongjoong cleared his throat behind you. He grabbed you by your neck and pulled you off of Mingi’s dick. Hongjoong chuckled at seeing your tear-stained face. “Don’t forget about me, gorgeous.”

You silently shook your head. You’d never forget about him, you wanted to tell him. 

Hongjoong still pumped his own dick, glancing down at himself to indicate you should go to work now. 

While he wasn’t as long as Mingi’s, you still had to relax your jaw while sucking him off. To your surprise though, Hongjoong pushed you away from himself after a moment, motioning for you to focus on Mingi again.

Almost delirious from kneeling between two princes, you felt bold enough to raise your chained hands to use them on Hongjoong’s cock while blowing Mingi. 

You changed between both of them, ignoring how tired your arms got, until Hongjoong commanded you to sit still. 

Mingi and Hongjoong did the rest, only seconds later spurting strings of cum over your face and upper body.

You wiped your face with your fingers and licked them clean right after it. A smile spread over your lips, when you noticed the lustful eyes of the men as they stepped back to make place for someone else.

San’s gaze seemed soft on the surface. He cupped your face, helping you to clean off the cum. He grinned when you eagerly opened your mouth to clean his thumb, silently thanking him for his help.

You swirled your tongue around his digit, looking up at him through your lashes. With every move of your tongue though, you noticed how his eyes darkened and the lust grew more and more prominent. 

San pressed his thumb down on your tongue, smirking when you tried fighting against it. He forced your mouth open. His smirk grew once your jaw slackened. San grabbed his dick with his free hand and rubbed it over your lips, smearing his precum over them.

You wanted to wrap your lips around his cock, wanted to lick along his shaft with your tongue but you couldn’t do anything - just sit there and keep your mouth open for San.

Only towards the end did San let go of your jaw, ordering you to finish him off. 

You wrapped your hands around his base while you hollowed your cheeks to go down on him. You tried rotating your wrists for an extra kick but the limited movements of your hands made the job slightly harder. 

You noticed how San’s nose scrunched up the closer he got to his release. You moved your head back, resting his twitching cock on your outstretched tongue.

San watched how string after string of cum shot into your mouth and pooled on your tongue. He groaned and closed his eyes, throwing his head back until his load emptied out.

With a small smirk you kept your mouth open and moved your tongue around for a bit, playing with his cum before you swallowed it.

You sat back on your heels, licking over your lips. Even though your head and thoughts were spinning, you knew you weren’t done yet. You thought the next prince would simply step in front of you but when you turned your head, Jongho beckoned you towards him.

You pushed yourself up on your feet - the first few steps slightly uncertain from kneeling for quite some time. You walked up the five steps and stopped in front of Jongho, raising one eyebrow as you looked down at him.

Jongho chuckled and simply leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. He looked at you, daring you to blow his mind.

Without hesitation you dropped down on your knees again. Your hands wandered over his strong thighs and up to the waistband of his pants. You giggled softly when Jongho lifted his hips to help you remove his pants. 

His eyes darkened and focused on you even more after hearing your giggle. Jongho swallowed harshly. Somehow - even without your mouth on his dick yet - he understood the reactions of the others.

You started with small kitten licks, fascinated Jongho only made little hums as a reaction. Trying to get even more out of him, you went down on him. You didn’t go slow nor tried teasing him. You simply desired to take all of him in.

“Shit.”

If you would have been able to, you would have smirked upon hearing him curse and seeing how his mask slowly broke down. The second you felt his dick twitching inside your mouth, you inhaled through your nose deeply and then pushed yourself down on him until your nose pressed against his sternum. You stayed in that position and only moved away once you milked Jongho dry.

Seonghwa appeared next to you and gently pulled you up on your feet, smiling awkwardly when your attention drifted to him. His beauty entranced you. 

“You did so well already”, Seonghwa mumbled and guided you a few steps away from Jongho. He had watched the other princes patiently, keeping silent about his painfully hard dick. He had watched how some of them were hard again and simply resumed to please themselves while they watched you intently. Seonghwa though hadn’t touched himself at all.

“I’ll do well for you too”, you whispered back, hands already rubbing over his clothed dick. 

Seonghwa exhaled sharply and closed his eyes. He took in the feeling, shuddering from the pleasure running through his whole body. “Please.”

Ever so slowly you got down on your knees one more time, removing his pants and undergarments at the same time. 

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, using your thumb to circle his leaking hole. You looked up to his face, noticing how he bit down on his lower lip. 

He barely opened his eyes - just enough to see you opening your lips and enveloping them around the head of his cock. Seonghwa praised you softly, brushing strands of your hair out of your face over and over again.

Once Seonghwa came, you were barely able to swallow his load before he pulled you up on your feet again and slammed his mouth on yours. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking along your lips, teeth and own tongue as well - tasting his and maybe even the cum of the others. 

His kiss turned your world upside down. Your thoughts tumbled through your head without any control, just like your desire swirled through your whole body. It yearned for more.

After Seonghwa broke the kiss and guided you back to your spot before the eight thrones, you silently stood there - eyes unfocused, breathing irregular and mouth slightly open.

The eight princes had found their respective seats again, sharing meaningful glances between one another. 

“I think all of us can agree that your statement wasn’t just a bluff”, Hongjoong announced, pulling you out of your trance.

“And we’re willing to redeem you.”

“Under one condition”, Wooyoung chimed in and somewhat interrupted Seonghwa, who momentarily glared at him but returned to look at you with a smile and a nod.

“What condition?” You asked carefully, eyeing each of the princes.

“You’ll stay at the palace.” Jongho told you simply.

“Make use of your head.” San had his silver glass back in his hand and toasted it towards you with a wink.

Yunho shifted to the edge of his seat and leaned forward. “Maybe even more than just your head.” A smirk played over his lips as his eyes wandered along your form.

“We wouldn’t want to send you to the guillotine after all.” 

You straightened upon hearing Mingi’s words. But when you turned your head to look at him and saw a teasing grin on his face, you relaxed again and nodded in confirmation.

Yeosang’s deep voice pulled your attention at last: “I hope you’re ready for what is to come.”

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​ @songsoomin

[garricks4thwingqueen]

My New Pillow: Dain Aetos X Reader

Prompt: Your My New pillow. Credit for this prompt goes to @deity-prompts

This fic is apart of the #FourthWingBirthdayBash !  

Dain Aetos × Rebellion Garrick's younger sister reader. 

Word Count 1469

    Being a child of the rebellion was never easy. You've managed to endure your first year at Basgiath but not without lack of training from your older brother Garrick, relieving of tension via friends with benefits style from someone your older brother would definitely not approve of or any of your friends for that matter. Frankly you shouldn't even be attracted to the man but yet you couldn't help but not feel head over heels in love with him. Yet you and Dain Aetos remained friends with benefits for the most obvious of reasons. 

   After war games this year and after the outbreak at Basgiath you find yourself at home in Aretia with your brother, Xaden and the other rebellion children along with 100s of other cadets that choose to come to your side after the chaos ensued. Even Dain had come along, although you were pretty sure it was only for your sake. After how war games ended this year Dain was basically enemy number one of your group. 

  You had never been more thankful that you had your own room in Riorson House due to your father's work with Xaden's father. Both you and Garrick had often found Riorson House more your home then your actual home. You currently found yourself on the verge of mixed emotions. You were mostly conflicted between your love for Dain still and every God damned fucking thing happening. Especially losing Liam. Even though your group majority blamed Dain you didn't. You knew he only knew one side of the story until you told him the story your group grew up with. You told him about war games and how everything went down including the Wyvern and the Venin; including how you held your best friend in your arms as he was dying and finally including the scream of Deigh that you'll never forget. Dain apologized for his father's actions that affected the rebellion group during war games; he felt awful and you knew he did. He had even been taking the shit from the others like a champ. Needless to say, your anxiety has been on the rise lately.

   You sniffled and wiped your falling tears as you got up and answered the soft knock on your door and gave Dain a half assed smile and a barely whispered “hey,” as you stepped out of the doorway so he could come in. You took in his shirtless and sweaty frame and noticed a few new scratches on his face. “You missed dinner.” he said soothingly, wrapping you into a hug. “I wasn't hungry and those are new.”  You stroked his scratched cheek  as you shrugged your shoulders as Dain led you both to your bed. “I wanted to check on you earlier but I figured I should at least wait until your brother went to bed and training with a few gryphon riders.” “You don't want to die yet, do you?” You smirked with a yawn. With that you earned a chuckle from Dain and that had quickly become one of your favorite sounds this year “I guess it is late. I should go.” He said going to stand. “No wait.” “Y/N?” “Please stay. I haven't been sleeping the greatest since I’ve been home.” you admitted softly. With a nod of Dain's head he took his shirt off and stripped to his boxers and climbed back into bed with you. 

    You snuggled into him and laid your head onto his chest as he pulled you close. This was a slightly new feeling for the both of you. Usually you just fucked in your room back at basgiath, Dain never staying long for fear of being caught from the both of you. But now you didn't care and honestly you're done with being just friends with benefits with one of the people you cared most about. You bury yourself into his chest as you feel him wrap his strong arms around you and feel your fingers intertwined together as he holds your hand. “Dain,” you yawn softly. “Mmmm?” You take your gambled risk and say the damned thought that's been on your mind hoping he feels the same way or else you're shit out of a friend. “I love you.” It's silent for a minute but then he grips you tighter and your greeted with the best sound you've ever heard “I love you too Y/N.” 

    “I can get very used to this.” You mumbled into his chest. Dain chuckled again; “Oh I know you can. I'll just have to deal with your brother first.” “Don't worry about him. I can handle Garrick. He just wants me to be happy.” “And you want to know one thing that's making me very happy right now?” I yawned. “Me?” “Well yeah, but I mean a very specific part of you.”You smirked as you bury yourself into his chest more and trace soft circles on his skin. “A specific part?” Dain smirked back “Yeah my head is super comfy right now. In fact I think your chest is way more comfortable than any pillow I've slept on ever. In fact it's my new favorite pillow.” You smirked with a yawn and kissed Dain softly as he chuckled. And gods did laying on his chest just amplify your favorite sound. “My chest mmmm? Those muscles didn't get there themselves. But they'll accept being your new favorite pillow. I just want my girl safe, happy and loved and she can have me however she likes.” Dain said softly and kissed your forehead.

    “Forever? No matter what we are going to get tossed at us and it's going to be a lot of shit. You know that right?” “I know.” He soothed and stroked his fingers through your hair. “Whether it be from my brother or Xaden and not to mention this impending doomed war shit.” “And we will be together through it all, together; I love you. You know we'll have to deal with my father to” He sighed and started tracing your relic which was the largest relic of the females in your group. Almost as large as your brother's. “I think my father is in for a good one next time I see him.” You sighed into his chest burying your face further, if that was possible. “Just be careful please. You don't need to get hurt because of me.” “I can handle him.” Dain said softly and started to pepper kisses down your neck. “Mmm.” Was your only response as you just took in the moment of being with each other. A moment like this you two had never had before but now you couldn't imagine falling asleep any other way from now on. 

   You woke up to your alarm going off at 5:30 with a groan, but smiled as you felt Dain’s arms tighten around you once more. “Good Morning my sweet girl.” He rasped and kissed your forehead. “Good Morning my Great Dain.” You smirked and kissed him softly. “Great Dain, is that supposed to be a pun?” He smirked. “Maybe.” You teased and ran your finger through his hair as there was a knock at your door. You groaned “Imogen.” Into Dain's chest. He chuckled softly as you yelled “Just a minute Immi and I'll be out.” Impatient as ever Imogen opened your door which you must have forgotten to lock. “Right a minute.” She smirked, taking in the sight before her. She opened her mouth to speak. “Don't start. I'll explain on our run please don't”. You sighed. “Fine but hurry up. Violet is annoying this morning.” 

  “I forgot about your runs.” Dain smirked. “Shut up. I don't wanna move.” You groaned, burying yourself into him. “Well I certainly don't want to start this off being any more on Imogen's bad side. So up and at ‘em for you.” He smirked, sitting you both up. “Not before a morning kiss.” You smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.  He chuckled and compiled by kissing you deeply. You sighed as you started to get dressed. “I'll see you at breakfast, lover.” You sighed and kissed him once more. “I'll see you later my princess.”  

 You both left your room; Dain heading to the showers and you heading to the back yard of Riorson House to meet Imogen, Violet and Rhiannon who started joining you yesterday. Imogen stood with her arms crossed and a stern unreadable look on her face. You loved Immi and she had always been like a sister to you, that you never had but her bad side was always something you tried to avoid. “Please don't Imogen. Can we talk about it later and alone?” “Fine.” She huffed and added “But don't accept me or everyone else to be remotely happy about this.”

Authors Note: I kind of left this as an open ending for a potential part two! Thoughts?

[cowboybarzy]

unexpected part 3 — mat barzal

tbh I didn’t realize how popular this was with you guys which is why I didn’t hurry to write this next part. but if y’all really love it and give me your thoughts (& even ideas on how to continue) I’m definitely willing to write more!!

word count: 4k

I’m just gonna make this part of my summer series bc they did travel and it gives me an excuse (to literally my brain lol) to post this part now! an insta edit will follow shortly! come along the rest of the trip

📍vancouver, canada with mat barzal this is part of the unexpected series, so if you want to see how we got to this point, read PART ONE and TWO

June

"Sshh, sshh. It's okay, it's okay." Mat's soft voice woke you from a short, but deep sleep. You turned as your eyes fluttered open to see him sat up against the headboard soothing your baby girl. "I'm here. You're okay."

Your hand reached up to cradle her tiny head. "She might be hungry. What time is it?"

"Almost four. It hasn't been that long since you last fed her. But look, she's already falling back asleep." His smile grew and you sat up as well to see her eyes slowly closing. "She's so cute."

"She is." You kissed her head and then leaned against Mat's shoulder. "And so big. One month already."

"It went by so fast. I don't want her to grow up."

The last month since you baby girl, Myla, was born was the most stressful and tiring but also the most beautiful and exciting time. The new sleeping schedule was difficult to adjust to and your recovery was harder than expected. People really should talk about it more. But getting to experience both you and Mat become parents and your baby explore the world was indescribable. She already outgrew her newborn sized clothes and loved being awake looking around the room. She loved sleeping in her stroller while you took her on walks, where you and Mat stopped to get ice cream or coffee. Both of your families had come to visit, too, and of course all of your friends. They loved her and you were so grateful for the amazing support system.

Mat's season had ended a couple of days after Myla's birth, but not after his birthday which you unfortunately had to spend apart. But he was home now and took such good care of the both of you. Although the three of you did spend a lot of time in bed, you made it a goal to go outside for walks at least a few times a week. Your family didn't live far so they were able to visit and you even went to visit them a few times when you felt brave enough to leave the house.

"Oh, my god!" Mats voice brought you back to consciousness. You hadn't realized you were falling back asleep on his shoulder until his voice brought you back.

"What?"

"She pooped. Did you not hear that? That was gr– Oh! Ew! Babe, it's leaking out." He started panicking, then gagged as he held her away from his body. "What do I do? What do I do?"

You laughed, falling back into the pillows as you watched him struggle for what his next move should be. "Babe! This is so gross! Help me!"

"Well, go change her!" You watched him, still laughing, as he carried her with extended arms, trying not to gag again. "It doesn't even smell. There's only one baby in this room and it's not her."

He started undressing her, groaning from the mess she had made. "Oh my god, it's everywhere. How? How is her stomach so big to hold that much?"

You got up to see for yourself, making sure beforehand to take a video of Mat trying to handle this situation. "Yeah, we should give her a bath. That is pretty bad."

"It's the middle of the night!"

"So? She's dirty." You laughed patting him on the shoulder. "Welcome to parenthood."

At one month old, babies couldn't laugh yet, but the noises she made could definitely count as it. So you prepped her bathtub. She was small enough to do it in the sink, so it didn't take long to fill the tub with the right temperature water. When Mat put her in, she started screaming. She hated baths for the most part, but unfortunately she had to get through it. She calmed down after a while, enjoying the little massage you were giving her to get her clean. Mat put his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.

"You know, a year ago I definitely would not have imagined us doing this at 4 a.m., but I wouldn't change it for the world."

July

"Ugh, she's so cute."

"So adorable."

"Her little nose. And those cheeks."

"I love her so much," you said, not being able to look up from where your daughter was sleeping in her stroller. You stood around her with Mat's sister and mother, just staring at her. You were supposed to go on a walk to go get lunch, but for some reason (a very cute and sleeping reason) you still hadn't left yet.

"Me, too. Watch out I might steel her," Liana said jokingly. She hugged you tightly. "Thank you for making me an auntie. I thought I'd have to wait for years."

"You almost had to." You didn't want to call your daughter an accident, because she truly was a blessing, but let's not pretend you were trying to become parents. You both tried to contain your laughs, as their mother was right there.

"Okay, let's go," Nadia broke you two up and took ahold of the stroller, before walked out of the house. You followed her, Liana fighting her mother for the right to push the stroller.

A couple days ago, Mat, Myla, and you made it up to Vancouver to spend a few weeks with his family. Myla just turned two months a few days ago and you finally felt comfortable enough to fly with her. A lot of family and friends came over to see her, but things had finally calmed down a bit.

"So, any wedding plans?," Liana asked, after you had made it to the restaurant and the food arrived.

You raised your eyebrows, a small laugh escaping. "How long have you been waiting to ask me that?" She laughed. "Since last time!" And that was about a year ago when you had told her you were pregnant. Mat shut her down immediately, saying you'd wait until after she was born. "Well...?"

"I don't know," you answered. "We haven't really thought about it."

"Oh, come on. You need to get married! For her and for me!" You laughed and her mother elbowed her. "What? I know it's selfish, but please! It would be the most beautiful wedding, I just know it."

She started gushing about her dream wedding for you, detailing everything from flowers to venue to table cloths. Her mother chimed in, equally as excited about the idea. Normally you would have been too, but for some reason the idea of a big wedding didn't seem exciting to you anymore.

And that's what you told Mat later that night when you were ready to go to sleep while feeding Myla. "Your sister, well and mom, are already making wedding plans, just so you know."

He rolled his eyes. "How many times have I told them it's none of their business?"

Myla was done eating, so you handed her over to Mat so he could burp her. "It's fine. It was kind of fun to talk about and see everything we could come up with. But funnily enough, all my life I've dreamed of a big wedding like that, even just a few months ago I would have agreed to it. But now, I don't know, I don't really want that anymore."

"Really?" You looked up at his green eyes.

"Yeah, I don't know. I'd rather have a small thing, with just family and our closest friends. And baby Myla of course."

"That sounds good to me." He leaned to kiss your forehead with a smile and cradled your baby's head.

"Wanna get married? Might as well, we already have a kid." You said it with a laughing tone, expecting him to laugh as well or brush the topic off like you had done since he first asked you about getting married. But he didn't. He jumped out of bed, put Myla in her bassinet, and left the room.

You sat there, shocked. You didn't expect that reaction as well. You were serious about getting married. A couple weeks after Myla had been born you realized that you were being silly before. Of course you wanted to marry him and you knew that he loved you and didn't stay with your just before the baby.

Thankfully, before you could process what just happened, Mat came back and sat back down next to you. "I'm the one that gets to ask that question!," he said, which is when you noticed the little red box in his hand. You mouth opened in shock. Now that, you definitely also didn't expect. "What? You really think I didn't got out and get you a ring after you said no the first time? Please, you can't get rid of me."

"Mat..." He smiled, cupping your cheeks with his big hands before kissing you softly.

"Baby? Do you want to marry me? I don't care about the big wedding anymore either. We literally could go down to city hall tomorrow and do it there. I don't care. I just want you and baby Myla. Now will you please do me the honor of not rejecting me for the millionth time and finally saying yes to being my wife?"

"You are such a jerk," you said as the tears rolled down your face. You were still pretty hormonal and you had a feeling it wouldn't go away. "But yes, I'll marry you."

"Finally." He pressed his lips against yours for a deep kiss that had you falling back against the mattress. But you couldn't fully enjoy the moment for very long, before baby Myla made herself known. You got her out and held her in your arms, soothing her, while Mat held you close to his body pressing tiny kissed against your head.

"Ok, let me see the ring," you whispered when your baby girl calmed and started drifting into sleep. Mat opened the box with a chuckle, as your moth fell open.

"Like it?" You nodded and held your hand out for him to slip the ring on. While it didn't fit as well as it would have pre-pregnancy, at least you were assured that it wouldn't randomly fall off. "Kind is weird that we're doing this at my parents house, but I'll take what I can get. It's your fault though."

"Wha- Why?"

"I was scared as hell to propose to you again. I didn't want to be rejected again."

"Mat, I didn't reject you. I just– I didn't want to get married while pregnant." He cupped your face again with a chuckle.

"I know, I know. I'm just joking." He kissed you over and over again, until you realized that Myla was asleep and you could put her back in her bed.

Mat pulled you on his chest as you both laid down. "Wait, were you kidding about city hall tomorrow?," you asked, keeping your voice low.

"Not really. You wanna do it?" You looked up at him and shrugged.

"Kind of." You both smiled wide. "But wait, no. My family. I want them there."

"Okay, well we could ask them to come here? Or would you rather wait and do it back in New York?"

"Here is good." You fell in love with Vancouver the minute you got out of the airport the first time you came, so getting married here was not an issue for you. "Yeah, I'll just ask my family and some friends if and when they'd be available to come up."

"Okay. We can just invite people and whoever can make it, can make it. If not, then we can always have another little something in New York." You nodded, excitement filling your body.

"But if we're inviting a bunch of people, we can't do it at city hall."

"There's lots of parks and venues around here."

"Or your parents back yard?" You both thought about it for a second, then Mat smiled.

"Yeah, i think they'd be cool with that."

You both giggled excitedly, then he pulled you fully on top of him. "Are we seriously getting married in a few days?"

"Unless you don't want to," you responded.

"You are never ever getting rid of me."

August 2nd

It was wedding day. After a crazy busy 10 days, the day was finally here.

When you had told Mat's family the news the day after you got engaged, they were very excited. His sister screamed so loud, she scared the baby but you couldn't go soothe her since she had you trapped in a massive bear hug. She immediately started planning and listing everything you would need. Everyone was involved in making flowers arrangements, cooking and baking for the party, and getting the house ready to host a wedding.

Your family got to Vancouver a few days before the wedding, also helping greatly. Once your best friends arrived as well, it was time to shop for a dress. While there wasn't much so last minute, you found the perfect simple little dress that you absolutely fell in love with. You even found a little white dress for Myla at a baby store near by.

"Thank you so much for coming." You hugged Sydney Martin tight, then her husband.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world." She smiled and you hugged her again. She had been very supportive and your closest friend during your pregnancy. Since she'd already been through it twice, and none of your friends had experience in that department, you spent a lot of time together. You were so grateful for her and were very thankful she could make it to your wedding.

While both you and Mat felt bad about getting married so last minute and therefore not having all of your friends present, having the ceremony now did feel right to the both of you. And that was all that mattered. And even still with short notice, a lot more of your friends than you expected could make it. With Mat's family, yours and your friends, your guest count was almost up to 50. So lots of people to celebrate your love, but still more intimate than a big wedding you almost had.

You spent the morning of you wedding setting up the tables and decorating everything. Around two, guests started arriving and since you treated this as more of a party, you had time to greet most everybody before having to get ready.

"Alright, time to get dressed." Liana came walking and grabbed your hand.

"Wait." Before she had a chance to pull you away, you turned to Mat to give him a kiss. He reciprocated with a smile. "See you on the other side."

"Love you." He winked, then slapped your ass, before turning back to his friend group.

You made another pit stop to grab your daughter from her grandparents to have her with you while you got ready. Your makeup base was done so all you added was some eyeshadow and eyeliner, while your best friend did your hair. Another friend made sure to take lots of pictures and videos of your day. You fed Myla one more time before handing her back off to your mom, who was going to watch her today so you and Mat could enjoy the day without worrying about her. Then it was time to put on your dress.

"Aw, babe, you look gorgeous."

"Stun-ning!"

Your closest girlfriends friends quickly came to hug and admire you, before posing for a few more pictures.

"Okay! Go time!" Liana, who basically acted as your wedding planner, called when it turned three o'clock. She pulled you into a quick hug. "Ready?"

You nodded, already on the verge of tears when reality started hitting you. You were about to marry your best friend.

"Good, because I am so ready to have you as my sister-in-law." She kissed your cheek and then started getting everyone ready and into position. You kissed your sleeping daughter one last time, then followed everyone downstairs to the backyard, where you were holding the ceremony and party.

Through the windows, you could see the garden beautifully decorated and everybody sitting outside waiting for it to start. You could also see Mat, standing below the flower arch at the end of the aisle, with his best friend and best man Anthony standing next to him as they talked and joked around.

Your mom walked out to find her seat and as soon as Mat saw Myla sleeping in her arms, his eyes lit up. He took her from your mom, gently as to not wake her, and pressed tiny kisses to her chubby cheeks. Your eyes got watery again, watching them and knowing that the overwhelming happiness you felt right now would not go away anytime soon.

The music got a bit louder which was your cue to head outside. Your bridesmaids walked before you, down the shirt aisle you had just helped built this morning. Then you followed, slowly, scared to trip, but not too slow as you were eager to get to Mat.

Mathew. Who looked even more handsome than you though possible, standing at the end of the aisle with that wide goofy grin of his. As you got closer though, you could see his eyes sparkling with tears.

"You look beautiful," he mouthed and stretched his hand out for you to take. You took it, immediately feeling calmer. You looked over to where Myla was sleeping in her carrier and with a reassuring nod from your mom that she was alright, you turned your full attention back to Mat.

And Anthony who in addition to being best man was also officiating your wedding. Over the past few years that you've known Beau, he also became one of your closest friends and you couldn't be happier to have him as Mylas goddaughter and now here to marry your number one best friend.

For the entirety of the ceremony, you felt like you were in a bubble. Only Mat and you. Holding hands. "When I look at the time we've been together,

I always have a smile on my face. Through all the ups and downs we've been through, the one thing that has remained constant is my love for you. The love I feel for you has gone from wild and free to me enjoying the little things about you like going for a walk, seeing your face across a breakfast table, and even changing disgusting poopy diapers in the middle of the night. Love you, My," he said after a pause. You both looked at her with a laugh, still sleeping in her carrier.

"We have years ahead of us but when I look at the years that has passed my heart grows with such love for you that I ache. You are the most amazing partner and the most amazing mama to Myla. You're it and nothing is gonna keep us apart. I love you and always will."

Thankfully, before Mat even began his speech your made of honor handed you a tissue or your makeup would be ruined by now by the tears streaming down your face. 'Love you,' you whispered as you held your hand to his cheek. He smiled, with a quivering lip, and whispered it back. He took your hand and slipped diamond covered ring on your finger. Then you cleared your throat a couple of times and prepared to speak.

"Maty, you're my best friend. Ever since you flashed me that goofy grin of yours, I was gone for you. And I am so lucky you chose me to be on your team. And I promise you that I will choose you as my teammate. I choose you again and again. At the start and finish of every single day, no matter the season no matter the year. I choose you to struggle and succeed with, to fight and make up with, to love and grow old with.

And while I may have to send you to the sin bin sometimes, just know that I'll always be on your side and you can always count on me.

Seeing you grow and become the best father to our newest team member has been the biggest blessing. I am so proud you of. I hope I can make you just as proud. I love you and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

With shaking hands, it was your turn to slip a ring on Mat's finger. You didn't hear another word until Beau said those magic words: 'you may now kiss your bride'. And he did. Those big hands grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you into him until your lips met. He started out softly, but soon enough he was breathlessly while your friends and family clapped and cheered in the background.

********

You were married. An indescribable feeling floated through you all day, every since you walked down the aisle. Your ring glistened in the Vancouver sun that was starting to set as you chatted with your friends. You friend circle had shrunk every since you found out you were pregnant, a lot of your friends keeping distance and not keeping in touch as much anymore. You didn't blame them. You were still very young and a lot of them weren't ready to settle down or even be surrounded by people that weren't able to go out and get drunk every weekend. You didn't blame them because it took you a few months too to adjust to the idea of being a mother, but it made you even more grateful for the few friends that did stick around. They made you feel so special and supported during your pregnancy and even now they were already the best aunties for baby Myla.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mat walking towards you, holding Myla. That sight would never not blow you away and make you feel all warm inside. "This little lady is hungry." He held her out to you and you welcomed her with with cuddles and lots of kisses.

"Where were you?," you asked him as you got ready to feed your daughter.

"I just went to change her. I saw my mom take her in, but I wanted to do it." He answered you puzzled expression, "What? I've barely seen her today. I just wanted to spend a few minutes with her."

Your heart warmed and you leaned into his shoulder. But your moment didn't last very long as the party was already in full swing and people kept coming over to talk to you. You went back to talking to your friends as Mat got pulled away by his.

After Myla was done eating, you decided to put her down for bed and once again tracked Mat down to let him know. "Hey, I'm putting her down." He was sitting with a bunch of his teammates that were able to make it out here who all fawned over baby Myla.

"Come on! Just let me hold her," Oliver whined, stretching his arms out, but Mat slapped them away.

"Absolutely not!" Most of his teammates got to hold her when you first introduced her to them, but Wally was not one of them. He joked around too much around her and was untrustworthy around babies. Those were Mat's words, not yours. He was obviously very protective of his daughter if he wouldn't let his own teammate hold her.

"I won't drop her! Please? Oh, see! She's looking at me," Wally tried again while the rest of you laughed.

"Yeah, she's trying to tell you to shut up. It's not happening." While he was mostly serious, there were joking tones in Mat's voice. You definitely thought they were all just messing with him, so you stayed out of it.

"Hey! Daddy Barz said no, so it's a no," the other Matt (with two Ts) chimed in in his best dad voice, to which your Mat gave him nod of his head.

"That's right."

You rolled your eyes at their banter. "Alright, I'm really putting her down now." Mat stood, but leaned down to where you were holding Myla in your arms so that he could kiss her little head over and over again.

"Good night, princess. I love you." Then he straightened and put his lips on your. "And I love you, wife."

"Love you more, husband."

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Code Words | Set-up

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Word Count: 5109

Someone knocks on Roman's door.

Someone knocks on Janus's door.

Someone knocks on Roman's door.

He frowns, getting up slowly and edging over. Logan didn't text and say he was going to stop by, he can't imagine Janus coming over without giving him a heads-up, and no one else would likely be willing to come near him right now. It's not like he's been giving his so-called 'friends' opportunities to see him, not since he—well. Not since.

So, it's with a healthy amount of trepidation that he approaches the door, something that's only rewarded when he peers through the peephole to see who, in fact, just knocked on his door.

His eyes widen.

Slowly, with every intention of making up something as soon as he finishes, he turns the doorknob and hesitantly cracks it just wide enough to peer out at the most high-ranking agent he's ever seen in real life.

"Roman," Director fucking Virgil says, smiling at him, "would you take a walk with me?"

"Um—sure. Yeah, uh—can I have a second?"

"Take your time."

"Thanks."

In a daze, Roman shuts the door. Nope, that definitely did just happen. He was just asked to go somewhere with the fucking Director. Okay. This is fine. He can deal with this. This definitely isn't going to end badly in any way, shape, or form. He's going to go for this walk and it's going to be fine and then he's going to come back here and scream into a pillow. Yeah.

That's it.

Belatedly, he realizes he's keeping the Director waiting and scrambles to shove his phone, his ID card, and his wallet into his pockets before stuffing his feet into his boots and opening the door again.

"Sorry."

The Director waves him off, still smiling. He gestures down the hall and Roman nods, shutting his door with a click behind him as he follows. The Director slows down so Roman can walk next to him and this really isn't helping his whole 'not going outside to avoid literally everyone staring' thing, but when the Director asks you to go on a walk, you take the fucking walk.

They don't go to another one of the conference rooms or even up the elevator to one of the fancy-schmancy offices that Roman's afraid to look at wrong. Instead, they arrive at one of the atriums and walk down the main stairs to the front door. He scurries over to hold the door as they walk outside, wincing a moment later at the glare of the sunlight. The weather has just started to turn warm again, the breeze still blowing like it wants to rip his jacket off but the sun at least is a little warmer.

The Director leads them over to a small bench in the corner of one of the less-traveled courtyards, sitting down and stretching out as though they're friends who sit on benches and talk to each other. When Roman hovers nervously for a few more seconds, he looks up and huffs, patting the bench. Roman sits down hastily.

"You're not in trouble," the Director says quietly, "I'm not here to scold you or reprimand you. You can relax, kid."

Yeah, uh-huh. Let me just go ahead and do that.

Judging by his chuckle, he may as well have said that out loud for the Director to hear. "Seriously. I don't bite, I swear."

"Only on Wednesdays, right?"

Before he can bite his tongue for being mouthy at the Director, said Director is laughing again. A proper laugh. He lightly taps Roman's shoulder in the adult get-a-load-of-this-kid-but-positive way, at least that's what Roman's going to interpret it as. "No, kid. Patton's made sure I'm thoroughly de-fanged."

Patton. Patton went to the Director. Patton went to the fucking Director, is the Director here about me?

Yeah, no shit, dumbass, why do you think you're out here?

"Sorry," he mumbles a moment later, "I didn't mean to…space out."

"Space as much as you want." He stretches out a bit further, tipping his head back. "I dragged you out here because apparently, the big ass windows in my office don't give me enough sunlight."

Roman sneaks a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, the Director looks like—well, he looks like every other recruit after too long of sitting in the training rooms rediscovering the wonders of being outside. A laugh bubbles up in his throat before he can stop it. The Director cracks an eye open and smiles back at him. After another moment, he sits up with a grunt and mirrors Roman's position: elbows on knees, hands folded.

"What would you like to see happen?"

Roman blinks. "Huh?"

"With everything going on," the Director asks, still in that same really casual tone, "what would you like to see happen? What's your ideal outcome for this?"

Wow, no fucking pressure or anything. Real light question to start us off with, why don't you?

"I, um—"

"It doesn't have to be extensive," the Director says when he splutters, "or it can be as ridiculous as you want. You could say you want to shoot them into space or have the cafeteria exclusively serve Arby's curly fries."

"Does anyone even go to Arby's anymore?"

"We can't fix bad taste."

Roman snorts. He fiddles with the callus on his thumb. "Can I—sorry, can I think about it for a second?"

"Take your time." The Director leans back on the bench. "I'll be here enjoying the sun."

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. What does he want to happen? Well, really, he wants all of this never to have happened in the first place. But he doesn't exactly have a time machine, and unless the Agency is really lying about what the fuck they can do, he doesn't think the Director has access to one either.

He wants the person who did this to him, to Janus, to never have the power to do so again. But he doesn't want them killed—or does he?

They'd definitely never hurt anyone ever again. They'd be out of the Agency. Out of his life. Out of Janus's life too. And they almost killed both of them with their negligence—something like that is punishable by normal standards, not just Agency standards. Let them know what it's like to be powerless, what it's like to be so, so fucking afraid for their existence, let them know what it's like to—to—

"Hey."

There's a hand on his arm and he realizes he's shaking. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to stop, glancing over to see the Director looking at him with concern. "Sorry."

The Director shakes his head, sitting up and still looking at him like that. "You wanna talk about it?"

Do I want to admit I was just fantasizing about killing someone? No, not really. "Um…I was—well, I thought that I really want all of this not to have happened in the first place, but we don't really have a time machine, so…"

He narrows his eyes.

"Do we have a time machine?"

"Believe me, it would make things simpler and infinitely more complicated, so no, we don't."

"Then I was thinking that—" No. No, he can't say this to the fucking Director, can he?

"You can say it, Roman," the Director reassures, "nothing leaves us right now. I'm not gonna hold anything you say here against you."

"I was thinking if they were dead," he whispers.

Immediately, he expects the Director to pull away. To say something like well, that's one way of looking at it, or we don't kill our own, which has he been fucking paying attention, does he know how much danger Roman's been in?

"And what if they were?"

His head jerks up. The Director still looks at him the same way he did before. The hand hasn't left his arm.

"What if they were dead," he asks again, "what then?"

"They—they wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again. They'd be gone. I wouldn't have to worry about them coming back, or hurting someone again, or—or—they would just be gone."

The Director nods. He still isn't pulling away. Even though Roman's admitting he wants to kill someone just for hurting him.

"But—"

"But?" comes the gentle prompt a moment later.

Roman takes a deep breath. "But I don't want—that's not—I don't—I don't want to live in a place governed by my worst impulses, you know?"

"That's a very brave thing to say."

He can't help it, he scoffs. "I'm not brave."

"No? Why not?"

"I'm scared all the time," he hisses, glancing around, "I'm—I can't leave my room. I can't talk to anyone without making sure they're exactly who they say they are. I can't sleep. I can't—I can't do anything. I can't even say I want something bad to happen to the person who hurt me. How the fuck am I brave?"

The Director hums, the hand on his shoulder making small circles. Before the shame at his outburst can really sink in, the Director sighs.

"Roman, you're brave because you're scared and you're doing all of this anyway."

"Courage isn't the absence of fear but doing things despite it," he drones automatically, only for the hand on his shoulder to squeeze.

"I'm serious. Do you know how many agents we lose every year to PTSD and other factors? Every month? Every week?" He looks up to see the Director staring at him. "It's not an insignificant amount, Roman. This job is hard. It fucks us all up. You're not a coward for being afraid and you definitely aren't one for what's happened to you."

"O-oh."

"You sitting here telling me you don't know what to do is brave. You being out here with me is brave. You sitting in that meeting telling them what happened to you is brave," the Director says, looking at him with a stunning amount of determination. "And telling me you don't want to live somewhere governed by your worst impulses is brave too."

A lump forms in Roman's throat. That's rude. He's not trying to cry in front of the Director.

"Believe me," he continues, his voice lowering the slightest bit, "I don't blame you for wanting whoever did this to you dead. I really don't. I also don't blame you for not wanting them dead. This isn't a test, Roman. I'm not fishing for the right answer. I'm asking you, because it seems like no one's done that for you in a long time. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. Yes, yes, I—I get it."

"Alright."

"Can I—sorry, I just—"

"Take your time," the Director says again, still full of some bottomless patience, rubbing Roman's shoulder as he stifles a few sobs. "You're alright, kid. You're gonna be alright."

"I know." He sniffles one last time and sits up a bit straighter. "I don't want them to die. I just want to make sure they can't hurt anyone like this ever again."

"That sounds like a very reasonable thing to want."

"And there needs—there needs to be a check of some sort. Someone else needs to make sure anyone sent out into the field knows everything. Code phrases, safety points, if there are any other agents there to support them. It doesn't have to be everything, but it has to be something."

The Director nods. God, Roman is telling the Director how to run a fucking mission and the Director is listening.

"A-and we can't—" he swallows heavily— "we can't let Security have tazers anymore."

He raises an eyebrow. "No? Why no tazers?"

"Because they really hurt and they don't actually do enough to stop someone if they really want something."

It surprises a laugh out of him at any rate. He nods a few times, mulling the words over. "Alright. No tazers, then."

"Why are you here?" Roman pulls back a little bit. "Is this really big enough for you to be here?"

"Officially, yes. One of the most in-depth undercover operations was almost ruined because someone wasn't briefed properly, resulting in the traumatization and risk of two of my agents, and it happened on my watch. Unofficially—" and here he leans a bit closer again— "a good friend of mine burst into my office and told me to get my ass in gear."

"Good friend—wait, Patton?"

"That's the one."

"Patton," Roman repeats, "the guy who had a baby blue notebook and those big glasses, the guy who took notes with a pink and white striped pen, that guy."

"Yeah. That guy."

"I don't—I don't wanna think about that too much."

"I don't blame you," he chuckles, "he's—well. He's something."

"Uh-huh. Logan knows him too—wait, does that mean he's yelled at Logan to get his ass in gear?"

"Probably."

"That's…oddly comforting."

The Director pats his shoulder again. "I can't promise you anything. But this will be dealt with, that I can assure you. We'll do our best to make sure nothing like this ever happens again."

"I need to talk to Janus," he blurts out.

"Janus?"

"Yeah. We—I promised. He needs to know too. It happened to him too."

"And if he thinks something different should happen?"

Roman shrugs. "Then we talk about it."

The Director stands up, adjusting his coat. He smiles at Roman again and—the Director just ruffled his hair. This is fine. This is totally fine. "You've got a good head on your shoulders."

"Thanks."

"Oh, and one more thing," he says as he turns to go, looking back over his shoulder, "and you can tell Janus this too: if anyone gives you a hard time about what happened, you send them straight to my office, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Enjoy the sunshine, kid."

Roman tips his head back and lets the warmth brush across his face.

***

    Janus opens the door and blinks. "Director Virgil. Can I help you?"

"I've been reliably informed that there's no one else who can help me put this away," Director Virgil says, holding up a small bottle of Janus's favorite liquor—so Patton did raid his locker, good to know— "interested?"

"I've been instructed not to mix alcohol and painkillers."

"I won't tell if you won't."

Janus allows himself a small smile and lets him in, gesturing to the small round table and quickly fixing them both two glasses of water and grabbing two empty glasses. He sets them on the table as Director Virgil takes off his jacket. Two fingers in each glass and one's slid over to him as he sits down.

"What should we drink to, Director?"

"Oh, I don't know." The Director swirls the drink around the glass. "How about…the fact that we're both still alive?"

Janus holds up his glass, they toast, and takes a small sip. The burn is familiar and he just manages to stifle a wince.

"Rough night?"

He allows himself a self-deprecating chuckle. "Remus still hits hard if I'm not paying attention. He apologized with another bottle of that stuff."

"So it's not from the mission."

Out of sight, his hand twitches. "No, Director. I didn't sustain any major injuries and I've been cleared by Psych."

"That's what Patton said too."

Ah. "Is that all Patton said?"

Director Virgil hisses lightly as he sets down the glass. "He said there was an urgent matter that required my attention, and that I should get my ass in gear about it."

"Verbatim?"

"In spirit."

Janus sets his glass down and sits up a little more. "Are you expecting a recounting from me as well?"

"No. I'm here to ask you what you'd like to see happen as this investigation moves forward."

"You should be asking Roman."

"Why? Weren't you affected by this just as much, if not more, than he was? You were entrenched deeply into the gang's structure well before he was even brought on, surely I don't have to tell you what they do with traitors."

Under the table, he makes a fist. "I'm not the one who was tortured by someone who was supposed to be on his side. I'm not the one who has trouble sleeping because he can't trust the walls around him. I'm not the one whose first big mission was set up to fail from the start."

"From the start…" He tilts his head. "You think it was done on purpose?"

"Roman's mission was as my safety. I've run safeties before. I was briefed so thoroughly I could probably tell you what those code phrases were. And he didn't know a single one—he didn't even know he was a safety. That means either the person who briefed him didn't tell him, or whoever briefed them omitted it. Regardless, someone knew that he was supposed to be a safety and that information never got to him."

Director Virgil drums his fingers on the table. "Could it have been a mistake? They assumed he knew?"

"First mission. First safety. Gross incompetence is the worser of the two offenses, somehow."

"Mm." He takes another sip of the drink. "You've still not explained why you shouldn't have a say in all of this."

Janus doesn't say anything. He takes another drink.

"Could it be the same reason you're hissing through painkillers right now?"

Janus's head whips around, mouth already opening to spit a retort of some kind back, but the Director holds up his hand to forestall it.

"I've already made enough mistakes by letting this get as far as it has," he says, softly but with an undertone of steel, "I'm not gonna let another agent get hurt on my watch."

His jaw works. He looks away. He looks down at his hand, trembling slightly under the table. He reaches for the glass of water and takes a long drink. "It's my fault. It happened on my watch."

"As I'm sure Remus has told you, you didn't exactly have many options."

"I know how nerve-wracking safety missions are."

"And you know how precarious undercover missions are."

"He's a good kid," Janus whispers, his voice thick, "he's such a good kid."

"Yes, he is. He's a good kid who made sure I knew he wanted to come talk to you before I did anything else."

Janus looks over. Director Virgil offers him a rueful smile and shrugs, taking another drink from the liquor glass. "He did what?"

"That surprises you?"

"No, not really, I just…"

"You said you'd give him time to be alright with you, is that right?" Janus nods. "I think the thing is, Janus, he's perfectly alright with you, the agent who also got fucked over in all this bullshit."

"But I'm also the one that hurt him."

"You think he's smart enough to know the difference between the person who fucked up his briefing and you, the agent trying to do his job?" Director Virgil spreads his hands. "He told Patton he didn't think you should be punished, didn't he?"

"Yeah, well, he's a good kid."

He chuckles. "You sound like you resent him for that."

"Good kids don't last here, you know that. They get fucked up or killed or—" he slugs back the rest of the liquor— "or they turn into us."

"Mm, fates worse than death indeed." He sits forward, folding his hands on the table. "I thought about that. But really, you know what's happened to Roman right now?"

"I was there for most of it, yeah, I know."

"That's just about the worst thing I can think of happening to a new agent, especially on their first safety mission, and yet after that, he's still doing things like vouching for you and trying to be a kind person."

"So?"

"So, I think he's made of stronger stuff than anyone's given him credit for."

Janus toys with the empty glass. "He always has been."

"So maybe he's gonna be alright for right now," Director Virgil continues, his voice softening the slightest bit, "and maybe he's got someone else to look after him for a moment."

"Yeah."

"And maybe you can swallow your pride and acknowledge that this fucked you up too."

Janus snorts. He sets the empty glass on the table and Director Virgil pours him another two fingers. "You really want to know what I want to happen next?"

"Mhm."

"Strip whoever it was of their Agency protection and let them go. Turn them over to the State if you have to. Get them out of here, get them away from the Agency. Lock them in a cell, throw the key in a hole, and throw away the hole."

He doesn't look phased. "But don't kill them?"

"Why, is that what you expected me to say?"

"No, but Roman brought it up." When Janus's glass hits the table with a thunk, Director Virgil chuckles. "Not a fan of that?"

"I mean, I can't say I blame him, but…"

"But?"

Janus lets out a long breath. "I don't think he's ever had to kill anyone before. I don't…I know I can't protect him, but I don't—that's not—"

He takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. Maybe he should've taken it easier with that first glass.

"I don't think he should have to deal with taking a life on top of everything else right now."

Director Virgil hums again. "He said he didn't want to live somewhere governed by his worst impulses."

"Shit, why is this kid here? He could be—fuck, he could be anywhere else, doing anything else and doing a great job of it."

"And yet he is here. Scared and worried, yeah, but he's here."

"He's better than most of them," Janus mutters into the glass of water, "he didn't deserve any of this."

"No, he didn't and neither did you." The Director leans across the table, taking the liquor glass away and replacing it with a file. Janus glances up at him before opening it, reading through the pages of Patton's transcribed notes. "Those just got finished, Roman hasn't seen them yet. My guess is he'll be by later, though, so you can show them to him then."

"You should send a copy his way so he knows beforehand."

"I should trust our messaging system to send something like this?"

Janus winces. "Okay, fair point."

"Logan's probably with him by now, he'll pass it along. Patton reached out to him and Remus to keep an eye on the both of you while this whole mess gets sorted out. You'll probably hear from him in the next few days or so, in case he needs anything else for the dossier."

"Dossier?"

Director Virgil gives him a look. "You didn't think something was being put together after all this happened?"

"Does Roman know about it?"

"I didn't tell him, if that's what you're asking, but he knows a case of evidence is being assembled. He also knows nothing's going to happen until the both of you agree on what it should be, which is why he's going to be here later today."

Janus flips the file shut and pushes it across the table, still nursing the glass of water. "You must have an opinion about all of this."

"I do."

"What is it?"

"Someone has sabotaged one of the riskiest undercover missions we've attempted in a long time, deliberately or otherwise. Two agents have been severely affected by it and the ramifications are Agency-wide," Director Virgil says drily, "what do you think my opinion is?"

"Do you want them dead?"

He smile darkens. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

He stands to leave, the bottle of liquor still on the table.

"When you and Roman have come to a consensus, come to my office. Sarah will know to expect you, she'll let you in."

"Yes, sir."

"And Janus?"

"Yeah?"

"If you think of any holes deep enough for your liking, send their locations my way too."

***

    Roman knocks on Janus's door. A moment later, it opens and he stands a little taller. "Hi."

"Hey, sweetie. Would you like to come in?"

"If you don't mind?"

"Not at all." Janus opens the door a little wider and Roman slips inside, glancing around at the much-larger quarters that actually has a small kitchen, a separate bedroom and bathroom—damn. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Your rooms are really nice."

Janus huffs a laugh. "Well, they are when Remus isn't destroying them."

"Have you guys been friends for a long time?"

"Friends, not necessarily, but he's been a pain in my ass since our first year of training." Janus sits down at the small dining table with a grunt. "Friendship came after we realized we'd become the world's greatest enemies if we didn't learn how to get along."

Roman snorts. "Yeah, I get that."

He glances over to see Janus sliding a file across the table to him, holding one hand to his ribs. "Patton's notes, freshly transcribed. They weren't ready this morning, so—"

"So the Director came to see you too?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Did he also ask you what you want to happen next?" Janus nods and Roman sighs, sitting down and pulling the file towards him. "Did he also hit you really hard or something?"

"This? No, that was Remus and I discovering I can't quite spar with the recklessness I used to."

"Logan tells me that too."

"Aren't you a little young to be getting the you're-not-as-young-as-you-used-to-be speeches?"

"I'm too old for the 'you're not invulnerable' speeches, apparently." Roman flips a page. "Though I think I figured that out for myself, thank you very much."

He reads in silence for a moment, just taking in Patton's notes. They're—well, they're not great, but they're true, so that's gotta count for something. He's seen more in this one eval than he has in literally all his time spent training, though, so that's fun too.

"What did you say?"

"Hm?"

"When the Director asked you, what did you say?"

"I said they should be stripped of their Agency rights and turned loose or locked away."

"That's kinda what I said too."

"What did you say," he says, "if you don't mind me asking?"

"Basically I was like 'I want to make sure this never happens again.' I asked for, like, a check or something by someone else who isn't the main briefing agent. To confirm that the agent being sent out knows the important stuff, knows the code words, or something. A safety for the safety."

Janus nods. "That's—I didn't think of that."

Of course you fucking didn't, but he bites his tongue. "And I said I want that person to go away."

"On that," Janus grunts, sitting up a little straighter, "we can agree in earnest."

"And no tazers."

It startles a laugh out of him, one he immediately tries to apologize for and cover-up. "Sorry, sorry. That's…um, can I ask why?"

"Because they hurt, for one, and two, they don't really stop someone." At Janus's obvious disbelief, he shrugs. "I stopped mainly because I was confused. If I wanted to, I could've pushed through it."

"Those aren't light weapons, Roman, they're designed to do some damage."

"Yeah, well, I've gotten pretty good at working with damage."

Janus winces and Roman feels a pang of regret. "I am sorry, sweetie."

"I know. I'm—I don't mean to keep throwing it back in your face."

"Throw all you want," he says, waving a hand, "it's your right to."

"But that's not fair to you, you're supposed to be healing from this as well. And how can you start doing that if I'm still making a point of how fucked up I am?" Roman glares at the table like it'll have all the answers. "I don't—if me being upset is making you have a harder time dealing with it, then—"

"Sweetie, stop." Janus leans across the table, one hand outstretched. "You need to worry about yourself and yourself alone. I—as much as I hate to say it, I do know how to deal with myself when I'm like this. You don't have to deal with my problems and yours."

"Your problems are my problems. Partners, remember?"

He stares Janus down until the other agent cracks a small smile. "Partners, right."

There's quiet for a moment. Roman toys with the piece of paper on the table. Patton's notes about residual trust issues and PTSD start to blur as he stares at the words long enough for them to resemble meaningless squiggles rather than letters.

"Do you think it was deliberate?"

Janus looks over from where he was looking out of the window. "Do I what?"

"Them fucking up my briefing. Fucking up your safety. Do you think it was deliberate?"

He leans back with a sigh, rubbing his fingers together. "I think it would explain a lot, yeah. I mean—I'm not thrilled at the idea of deliberate sabotage, but honestly, I think it's better than the alternative."

Roman frowns. "How is that better than the alternative?"

"If it was deliberate sabotage, that means someone knew that you were supposed to be my safety, they knew this was going to be a joint mission, and they knew you were supposed to be given code phrases. That means they made a choice, a specific choice, not to tell you."

Roman nods, unsure of where exactly Janus is going with this.

"If this isn't deliberate, that means either someone forgot to tell the person who was briefing you, or someone forgot to tell them, and so on and so on until we get all the way back to the people who assigned my mission and planned it in the first place. That's a lot more people to worry about and a lot more information that fell out of the pipeline somewhere between my handlers and yours. Which would you rather deal with: one bad actor who chose to risk both of us, or a handful of people who couldn't check and verify?"

Roman winces. "Yeah, you're right. The first one. 'Cause then you know once you get rid of them, everything else is fine."

"Of course, that does present the problem of how such a bad actor got into a position like that in the first place, which presents its own list of problems, but…"

"But we know how to deal with those." Roman looks at him. "Because that's what we do."

Janus looks at him and smiles. "That's right, sweetie. That's what we do."

"I think I know how I want to proceed. Do you?"

"I've got a few ideas."

***

    They walk up to Virgil's office together. Sarah gives them a smile and buzzes them in. Virgil looks up from behind his desk.

"Hello agents," he greets as they sit down, "so. What have you got for me?"

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[mitamicah]

Oh telling things, just talking like 👀👀👀👀.

Oh i once ripped my pants from sitting in the snow too long, had a big hole in my pants and had to walk home like that (was only a five minutes walk and i was seven)

I once fell off a pony and no one noticed 😃, i just sat there and waited until they came back, greeted me and then were completely surprised, because they had not noticed. The pony was sweet :3☺️☺️☺️

I went into haunted house as a child and afterwards it took two adults and almost twenty minutes to get me off my neighbour, i held onto that poor boy for dear life while screaming and crying. He wore a vampire costume and i was a witch or cat.

I used go be obsessed with wearing a dinosaur costume 😃😃. I also used to have a hat with cat ears and eye holes but grew out of it 😔.

I have a horrible sense of orientation, its almost criminal. I once drank half a bottle of sleeping medicine (sleep issues due to other meds) and slept for 18 hours.

Oh and i got hit by cars a few times but never something bad, sturdy bones and strong kitty.

My twin (my most beloved) and I usually plan multiple movies days, our record is three movies in one day, nine hours in the cinema.

My twin and I once "attacked" each other with stamps and had to walk through the entire building to wash our stained faces because there was only one working sink.

I am terrible on skates, i once fell and managed to land in the only puddle, my entire back and thighs and butt were soaking wet. And cold.

I went to school in a hospital for some time and that was interesting, smallest school i ever went to. I think i still have the clay bowl I made somewhere. And i will never forgive the nurse in another hospital for just turning the tv off i was watching a movie and have to this day not been able to find it again and it was almost 13 years ago, was very uncool.

I once slept through fireworks going off right next to my room, and through a pillow thrown at my face to check if I was still alive, i also once rolled on top of someone and slept through the other person pushing me back on my side.

Hopefully your day will turn better 💛💛💛

Wait ... how is that even possible OVO oh no I am so sorry that sounds horrible but also hilarious at the same time :'D xD

Another incidence on 'how did that even happen' x'D that is a cute story tho - just a silly little time with a pony x'D

Awww sweet summer child (litterally) :'3 <333 sounds like the neighbour was somewhat patient with you tho, that's nice :'D

Ngl dinosaur costumes are cool :D!!! oh no I hate when that happens :'3 would we just stay the right size for our comfort clothes forever :'D

I can relate to the bad location skills x'D

Oh wow that is a long ass nap OVO I have tried something similar (20 hours but not because of sleep medicine but just pure old exhaustion) and it is very disorienting :'D

I am not sure if I should say that you are very lucky or unlucky for that one :'D this cat definitely have nine lives x'D

Awwwn I love that - normalize sibling dates :'D <3

Hahahahaah that sounds like a lovely and silly memory x'D

Oh nooooo :'D whelp you have more experience on skates than I do it seems which is not hard since I never trusted myself on skates x'D hahaha

I agree, not cool of the nurse :'3 must've been a movie you were quite into as well if you still remember so far after the fact OVO

Wait .... how OVO? I would've been acting like a scared/angsty cat or dog if that happened to me :'D

Thank you for sharing all these fun little facts and stories Jay ^V^ I hope it is alright I submit this :'D? otherwise let me know and I'll take it down <33

[deathwords334]

Yet Another Post Dogma Story

(Ok this one is definitely not a Drabble. It's double the length of the others so... I guess it's a proper fic at this point? It's only one scene though...)

Aziraphale bursted right through the doors to the offices of the death angels.  By then, the angel had walked through that door enough times that no one was too surprised to see him.  Any anxiety he may of had previously being around them were also long gone.  The past several months had been brutal for him.  He didn’t expect it to be a walk in the park; he would have to contend with the archangels who (sans a certain Angel of Death) was all but praying for his downfall.  Then there was the Metatron.  He was ‘supportive’, but Aziraphale had been there long enough to know that all his compliments were empty.

He could not leave Heaven, no matter how much he wanted to run back to his bookshop (and maybe even to the arms of a certain demon, no matter how much he resisted).  The Voice of God did everything except explicitly threaten punishment if he even stepped foot towards the elevator without being supervised.  

Heaven was still as deafeningly quiet as it always was.  Sitting at his desk with the mountains of paperwork only made it worse.  Sometimes he found himself stacking them in such a way that they looked like the humans he knew below.  If you really squinted… and your eyes were watering…

There were only two places where he could find comfort.  One was a storage closet that was dark enough that the blinding white of heaven couldn’t shine through.  He often went there when he had to suppress his screams for a very short period of time.  Less frequently, but for longer periods of time, there was Azrael’s office.  The whole floor was isolated from the head offices by a separate elevator and wasn’t under surveillance (per se).  It was a perfect safe space: sound proof, dimly lit outside of the soft lights of the lamps, had a nice soft couch with blankets and pillows, and, most importantly, books.  So many books.  

Azrael gave his blessing for him to come and go as he pleased.  Under one condition.

Aziraphale knocked on the door, a certain couplet the archangel suggested using.  After a minute or two, he got his response.  Azrael knocked back and the blonde stormed into the room.  He catapulted himself onto the couch with a loud groan into one of the pillows.

“You alright, Supreme Archangel?”  Azrael asked as he closed the door.

“More than.  Yes!  Never been better!”  His response was muffled into the pillow still but very beleaguered.  Azrael chuckled to himself and walked past the couch, back to his desk.  When Aziraphale heard his friend’s pen scribbling onto papers, he moved himself in the most undignified way so he was resting on his side.  Once more, he groaned.

“Why thank you, sir.  That couch has been flying all over the room.  It was getting rather annoying.”  The Angel of Death casually answered, not even bothering to look up.

“Just need to close my eyes.”  He murmured.  Oh sure… That was all he needed to do.  He didn’t want someone to pay attention to him whining.  Where would someone get that idea?

“So Crowley’s taught you the art of sleeping…”  

“I need some tea…”

He raised an eyebrow.  “What happened to the one I brought you this morning?”

“Downed it after my meeting with Saraquel.”

“Quite the ball buster, aren’t they?”  No response.  Azrael sighed quietly.  While he initially decided that he should focus on work and let sleeping dogs lie, he instead got a better idea.  “We did just use that couch, you know-“

Aziraphale bolted up into a sitting position, eyes wide open.  ‘Right!  I came down for a reason.”

“Did you.”  The supreme archangel tried to ignore the bemused ‘tone’ in Azrael’s voice.

“I was thinking some about Project ‘Make Heaven Tolerable Again’!”

“Told you Heaven was never tolerable.”

Aziraphale grumbled.  “Michael and Uriel won’t budge on some of my requests.”

“Requests?”  Azrael finally looked up from his papers.  Just as he expected, the archangel hadn’t heard anything about this.  It was partially by design.  Aziraphale wanted to surprise him.  However, it also showed how little the other archangels thought of the prospect.

“Yes.  I’ve put in requests to bring in some more plants.  I decided to use His arrival as a reason to spruce up the place, you see.”  Aziraphale waved his hands grandly, expressing the sheer scope of said project.

“I’m pretty sure they haven’t even looked at those.”  Azrael grumbled.  He pressed his lips into his open palm.  “I told you.  They aren’t inclined to listen, especially after what happened to Gabriel.”

“Well, you can’t fault me for trying.” 

“No… Not at all.”

“I was hoping they’d let you bring some more life up there.”  Aziraphale smiled gently to the other.  Azrael blinked back, but the blonde could see the creases of his cheeks starting to form.  He knew that smile.  “Which leads me to my Idea.”

“Did you just…”

“Start from the bottom up!”  Aziraphale was beaming, all too happy with the ‘Idea’.  He was practically jumping on the cushion.  He motioned towards the window.  “It works for humans.  A lot of social revolutions started amongst lower ranking officials.  Surely, we can do that up here.  Muriel was rather interested in earth.”

But Azrael shook his head.  He could argue the consequences of some of those ‘social revolutions’, but he didn’t want to.  “Not all angels are like Muriel.  Muriel is a good old fashioned angel: they soak up information like a sponge.  They probably would’ve been chosen to be heaven’s representative had management got you back earlier.”  He sighed.  “Angels aren’t even like Gabriel… when his memory was gone.  They’re stubborn, stupid… stupidly lonely.”

The supreme archangel’s brows furrowed and his lips pouted slightly.  “… You’ve been keeping an eye on them.”  Azrael's stiffened posture told him everything.  He had already concluded that the archangel of death had not entirely lost who he was before being revived, so surely…  “Have you been trying to improve heaven this whole time?”

“No.”  But Aziraphale smiled giddily.  What a liar.  “I’m not in this for heaven.  I’m in this for me.”

“Of course you are.”  The supreme archangel scooted to the other end of the couch and rested against the arm.  “What have you done then?”

“…”  Azrael looked his boss up and down before letting out a little sigh.  Not entirely one of defeat.  There was fondness in there too.  “We’ve familiarized ourselves with some of the more isolated angels.”

“Isolated.”  Aziraphale breathed thoughtfully.

“Heaven is a big space… There’s angels who haven’t seen another being in centuries.  Some of my cohorts make rounds to check in on them, talk, and give them small tasks… It’s far from perfect.  We’ve been shooed away.  But…. But we have ways.”

He raised a coy brow.  “Like?”

Azrael covered his mouth instinctually.  His bemusement, though, was far from obscured.  “Have you heard about the Halloween haunting?”

“I can’t say I have…”

“Hmph…”  He grumbled and muttered into his palm.  Aziraphale hummed and shifted once more to a comfortable position on the couch.  He kept his focus firmly on the archangel’s ‘expression’.  It was rare to see the stoic angel of death pouting and huffing.  Certainly wasn’t something he’d want others to see, so, in a way that was almost sinful, the supreme archangel wanted to remember this moment.  Engrave it in his mind for moments when he needed to smile.  And, of course, never tell anyone about it.  “Well!  On All Hallows Eve, some… ‘mysterious’ things happen upstairs.”  His shoulders slouched a little when he didn’t get a reaction.  “Are you sure no one has even asked you about a black cat?”

“A black…”  The blonde wrecked through his brain.  Management had never been forthright with office affairs unless it was related to Earth or regulations that he specifically overstepped.  He had his ways, though.  The problem was heaven was often very quiet outside of the fight for power.  That part he got good at ignoring.  Still, there were a couple times when he heard that the archangels were complaining about a black cat that was running around heaven.  It wasn’t a living cat, surely.  A ghost…  He gasped and looked to Azrael again.  “Oh!”

Azrael grinned menacingly, this time not thinking to cover it for Aziraphale’s comfort.  “Yes!  My favorite… He works for me.  His name is Sir Reginald.”

“He ‘works’ for you?”

“…”  He pressed his lips together.  “I’ll explain another time.”

“Yes.”  Aziraphale answered quietly.  Azrael had a lot he needed to explain, didn’t he?  “Why Reginald?”

“Felt fitting.  And he seems to like it.”

“After the Count?”

“Nah.”  With the snap of a finger, a book flew off the shelf and into the angel of death’s hand.  A small red book.  It had obviously been read multiple times, but given its age, it was in good shape.  Aziraphale could even sense that it had a miracle on it; it was probably meant to keep it from deteriorating.  He looked closer at the cover.  ‘Reginald by Saki’.  “Surprised you went with one of them.  Surely you’ve met Saki before.”

He shook his head.  “Unfortunately not… He was a busy man.  Never stayed in one spot for too long.”  Azrael nodded knowingly, but Aziraphale added in a nostalgic tone.  “Noel was quite fond of his work, though.”

“Mm.”  The black haired angel started fingering through the pages.

“How much of his work do you have?”

He looked back to his bookshelves.  “Some… I try not to collect every book in existence, you know.”  To emphasize his point, he gestured with the hardback book ever so.  “This one was gifted to me by his sister.”

“How sweet.”  Suddenly, Aziraphale yawned.  How odd… He was struggling to keep his eyes open.  “I really do think I’ll close my eyes now.”

“Alright.”

“Don’t let me sleep long?”  The supreme archangel slowly sank his body back into the couch, choosing a soft black pillow nearby to be his sleeping companion.

“Of course.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes.

—

It was dark.

The waves were crashing against the cliffside.  The rain had stopped… He didn’t expect that…. Aziraphale looked around.  It was just as dead as it was back then.  But eventually something caught his eye.  A mop of red hair… and black clothes.

Oh no…

Crowley… Aziraphale forced his body to move towards his friend.  He fell beside his body.  Oh how horrid.  He was all cut up and torn.  They were deep, these cuts.  He was surprised the demon wasn’t bleeding.  And his expression was so serene.  

Hold on.  I’ll heal you!  Aziraphale went to place his hands on Crowley’s chest, but the demon grabbed them instead.

Angel.  Aziraphale could hear his voice.  It was so clear.  It was so weak… He wanted to cry so much.  

Crowley.  I’m so sorry.

It’s ok… Do you see it?  It’s beautiful isn’t it?  From one of the cuts in the demon’s chest there was a flower starting to bloom.  It was glowing.  It was radiating so much love.  It was beautiful.  It hurt to look at… it hurt…

Aziraphale gasped loudly and he grasped his chest.  Something was threatening to burst.  His flower was trying to break free.  It wanted to break free…

I want to break free!

—

Aziraphale bolted up in a cold sweat.  He thought he did at least.  The room was a little brighter than the dark stormy night of his dream… right?  Oh the memory of that dream was starting to fade.  He placed his hand against his forehead and begged his mind to make any kind of recollection.  Whatever happened hurt.  He knew that without doubt.  But Crowley was there.  He was happy.  There was love…

As the initial panic subsided, the supreme archangel realized he was not alone.  Someone was standing beside him.  It must’ve been Azrael.  He probably never left his office.  Aziraphale turned to his company.  “I’m all… right…”  The shallow smile on his face faded, and he was fully awake.  Azrael was beside him, yes, but so was someone else.  He knew them.  Or rather he had heard of them a long time ago.  There were rumors, but Aziraphale had always assumed they had died in the War.  Yet here they were.  Full of grace.  God’s grace.  He couldn’t take his eyes off them; they would not let him.  And he didn’t want to.  His body was fuzzy, hair sticking up like he was wearing the nicest wool sweater.  Body warm like he was drinking his favorite tea on a dark, overcast night.  His heart was full.  It hadn’t been this full in so long… Be it with Her grace or Crowley’s.

“Told you he’d get overwhelmed.”  Azrael had leaned down to his partner, who was in the process of rubbing Aziraphale’s arm.  The death angel’s attention was squarely on his eyes.  So the archangel whispered in their ear.  “No one can deny your grace.”

/Oh stop it/  They turned their head quickly, signing just as fast with one hand.  They weren’t mad, though.  It was playful yet stern.  There was love.

Aziraphale looked between the two beings.  He remembered now.  The first time he came down to Azrael’s office he saw… Well a moment of intimacy he probably shouldn’t had seen.  Azrael and this being.  They were lovers, right?  No… That didn’t sound right… It was more than that, wasn’t it?

Right.  The being in question.  Azrael’s other half.  They had more scars than him, and they were more methodical.  Azrael and indeed every other death angels’ scars were sporadic and varied.  Those were from the war.  These were far more unique in look, too.  They were older and had a slight glow that spoke of a higher plane of existence.  One that hadn’t been heard from since before time.

Azrael stared at his boss, cautiously probing.  “You know them.  Surely…”

The death angel nodded in agreement.  They signed.  /I go by Ariel.  Pleasure, Supreme Archangel/

“Pleasure’s all mine.”  Aziraphale smiled a little.  Ariel had finally let go of his hands by that point, and in place of that sensation, he found himself gently caressing his own.  He allowed it for a little while longer before standing up to leave.  “I’m sorry, I’ll just…”

“Oh no.  You can stay.  We were just letting off some steam.”  Azrael assured him before motioning to a record player by the window.  Aziraphale hadn’t realized till then that there was music playing quietly in the background.  He grimaced.  It was modern sounding.  He wasn’t fond of it.  “I bought this record this morning and I wanted to show it off.  They sang on one of the songs.”

A death angel sang?  On a human record?  “I thought…”

/Long story…/  Ariel assured him, their expression stuck still in that melancholic smile.  /I’m happy you’re awake, though.  I can report my findings/

Azrael covered his mouth as he teased.  “So that’s where you were this morning.”

They nodded and turned back to their companion.  /Some of the angels have still shown signs of recognition of music.  Some were tapping along as I passed/

He nodded along.  “Brilliant.  We might need to delay the next step though… His return has thrown a wrench in all of this.”

/I can keep this whole thing going for a while longer-/

“Ah excuse me, but I’m lost.”  Aziraphale chimed in.  “Why are we talking about music?”

“We’re gonna introduce human music to heaven.”

“But the way you’re approaching all of this… You’re acting like they’ve never heard music before.”

“At this rate, they haven’t.”  He stated a matter a factly.

Aziraphale scoffed.  “Oh really.  Heavenly choirs haven’t gone away.”

“They have…. When was the last time you heard someone singing up here?”  Aziraphale was about to proclaim, but lowered his head in thought, instead.  When was the last time he heard the choir?  It wasn’t recent.  It must’ve been around when Jesus was born, right?  Yet it didn’t sound like the choir he remembered.  Initially, he thought that the roster had changed at some point, but now he wasn’t so sure.  “You know how Heaven is with human things.  I said there ‘is no place’ for human things in Heaven because no one has handled human things since the war.  From what I’ve seen, most of it was thrown away or abandoned…. It remains where human souls reside.  Angels never go there.”

“But what about The Sound of Music?  It’s Her… favorite…”  A thought passed the blonde’s mind then.  When was the last time he had seen Sound of Music?  He heard the lyrics constantly.  Pretty much since it was first introduced to heaven.  But… When was the movie ever shown… Aziraphale sat back down.  “I’ll be damned.”

“You’re almost there.  But…”  Azrael made a motion with his hands, signifying they needed to backtrack.  “Before Gabriel wound up at your doorstep, something… happened.  Well, a lot happened.  But before then.  He approached me, and asked about Ariel.”

“Yes?”  He raised an eyebrow.

“Aziraphale.  When Ruha was demoted, they were placed under Gabriel’s demand.  He hated them.  Ruha and Ptahil alike.  He specifically went after them during the war.  When we were revived, he never even paid attention to Ariel.  Then he suddenly asks me if they’re ok, and if we’re still a couple.  Don’t you think it’s odd?”

So Ariel really was…  The supreme archangel wasn’t part of any specific cliques during the before times.  All he could do was hear second hand- But he quickly stopped that train of thought.  He realized now was not the time to start putting together fragments from the past.  “Maybe he was feeling repentant that day.”

“… This is Gabriel we’re talking about.  But I felt something.”  Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.  “Love.  I felt love coming from him.”  Aziraphale mouthed an ‘ah’ as Azrael continued.  “It took a while to piece it all together.”

Ariel picked it up.  /Lord Beelzebub was humming the same song for years.  I believe it’s a song by Buddy Holly/

“Everyday!”  Aziraphale gasped.

/Yes/

It made sense!  Despite the revelation that the (former) supreme archangel and the (former) Duke of hell had developed feelings for each other, the role the records (and the song they were forced to play) in it all had eluded Aziraphale.  No one had ever said anything about it.  Even when the two beings sang it together as they left earth.

Azrael waved a hand or emphasis.  “Then I saw it.  Gabriel learned the song from Lord Beelzebub.  He didn’t even know what music was till then.  Don’t you think that’s odd?  And Lord Beelzebub didn’t even approach it as a hymn.  They specifically said it was a tuneful way of conveying a message.”

/And if Gabriel has never heard music before, why would lower angels know of it?/

“Likewise, if Gabriel could understand and appreciate human music, shouldn’t other angels as well?”

“So you two are introducing the concept...”

“Mostly through foot taps and such.”

“…. You’re going to use the Sound of Music.”  Aziraphale clapped his hands in glee.  “Wonderful!  Absolutely brilliant!  I’ll help wherever I can.”

“Any suggestions then?”

He smirked.  “Well I wouldn’t like to brag, but I’ve been told I have a decent singing voice.  It won’t be full-on singing of course.  Perhaps some light humming.”

“Perfect.  And with your position, they’ll feel inclined to listen.”

“You really think so?”  Aziraphale all but begged.

“You’re the best Supreme Archangel we can ask for, my friend.”

It was just what he wanted to hear.  His body melted slightly, oozing appreciation and love.  It was the first real compliment he had gotten in months.

“I hate to cut our meeting short, but I do believe you need to go back upstairs, Supreme Archangel.”  Before he could protest, Azrael pointed out.  “The Metatron will get suspicious.”

/I’ll escort him/  Ariel assured.

“Be careful.” 

/Always/  They promised before the two kissed.

—

“So… mm.”  Aziraphale shifted about a little as the two waited for the elevator.  When was the last time he found himself speechless?  Granted, this was a different type of speechless, wasn’t it?  Ariel was his ally, even by proxy, but they still were a personification of God Herself.  Even in their ‘undead’ state, they were the closest thing he would experience for a while.  Until He showed up… Till he finally got the chance to talk to Her.  “Have you two been together for a while?”

/Even before Time was made/

“Oh.  How wonderful.”

They tilted their head slightly, still with their sad smile.  /What about you and Crowley?/

“Oh we’re not-“

/Of course you are.  I saw you two back in Edinburgh/

“Saw-“

/I felt your love.  His love/

“Oh… Well.”  He laughed quietly, trying to ignore the quiet burning sensation in his cheeks.  The bell rang as the elevator doors opened.  Ariel gently ushered their boss by proxy into the lift.

/Listen… I know you want to make heaven better.  We really do appreciate it.  But… Be careful/

“Certainly.  I’m very prepared.”  He assured them.  But watching Ariel’s ‘response’ made him feel rather uneasy.

/Don’t trust anyone/  They stared right into his eyes.

He smiled nervously, still trying to keep his jovial tone.  “Even Azrael?”

/Especially Azrael/  The bell rang.

[wheezyreads]

UM HELLO HI HELLO? THIS? WOW WOOOOW ok wow you know? wow

i loved this. their development? the way you perfectly showcased their dynamic and made it evolve in such a real manner. i mean this felt like a movie. i could perfectly picture everything. it felt real. OH AND I ABSOLUTELY ADORED THE WAY IT TOOK THEM A WHILE TO ACTUALLY FUCK. like they didnt just get it on the moment they went into his apartment. i loved that. again it made them feel real

anyways this was great and i saw there’s a pt 2 so im getting my ass over there as soon as i reblog this

He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he's an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way.

IM FUCKING DYING OF LAUGHTER AT THIS😭

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he's up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. "EDDIE!"

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. "You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin' about, baby?"

just because you’re not wrong does not mean you have to prove you’re right, edward 🙄

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it's brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby.’ Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping.

I AM DECEASED

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. "Jesus, fuck." he murmurs.

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. "That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…?”

"You get me going. That's just extra hot." His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You're getting used to it, kinda like it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. "Yeah, it was. l'II make tomorrow amazing too if you'll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you're really grumpy when you're tired."

"Shut up." you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. *Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin".

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. "Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date." He gives you one last kiss, "Sleep now, sugar."

screaming crying throwing up

this was so sweet

i love them

i shall now go on a bouncer x bartender brain rot

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers) 

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn. 

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips). 

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months. 

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation. 

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies. 

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll. 

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig. 

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights). 

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross. 

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air. 

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.” 

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks. 

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks. 

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns,  “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..” 

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.” 

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside. 

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts. 

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips. 

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.  

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was. 

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat. 

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick. 

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish. 

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure. 

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter. 

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious. 

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago. 

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving. 

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).  

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy. 

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward. 

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain. 

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice. 

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose. 

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on. 

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”  

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you. 

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch. 

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control. 

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck. 

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night. 

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall. 

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink. 

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes. 

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-” 

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office. 

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you. 

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by. 

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting. 

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too. 

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy. 

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.   

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.” 

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare. 

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.” 

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you. 

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness. 

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.” 

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes. 

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it. 

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task. 

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other. 

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards. 

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?” 

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight. 

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass. 

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body. 

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt. 

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much. 

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.” 

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.” 

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught. 

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night 

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night. 

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness). 

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself. 

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?” 

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition. 

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise. 

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine. 

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.” 

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.” 

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.” 

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.” 

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad. 

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live. 

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.” 

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline. 

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working. 

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.” 

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand. 

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs. 

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door. 

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks. 

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean. 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie. 

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola. 

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him. 

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip. 

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.” 

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger. 

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.” 

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew. 

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him. 

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.” 

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer. 

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too. 

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little. 

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.” 

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink. 

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime. 

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside. 

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently. 

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee. 

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.” 

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.” 

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real. 

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary. 

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out. 

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering. 

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door. 

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.  “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car. 

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on. 

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place. 

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both. 

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head. 

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone. 

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case. 

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne. 

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.” 

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you. 

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.” 

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.” 

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on. 

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain. 

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting. 

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag. 

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off. 

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.” 

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm. 

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours. 

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning. 

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening. 

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..” 

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks. 

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful. 

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong? 

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly. 

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary. 

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you. 

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?” 

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive. 

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue. 

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat. 

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever. 

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word. 

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder. 

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real. 

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp. 

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too. 

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere. 

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again. 

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your mouth to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth. 

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?” 

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper. 

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.” 

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek. 

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.” 

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did. 

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes. 

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way. 

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms. 

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break. 

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.  

he rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again). 

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement. 

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson. 

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time... 

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door. 

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager. 

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley… 

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car? 

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief. 

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?” 

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself. 

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter. 

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.” 

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip. 

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…” 

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over. 

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close. 

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car. 

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.” 

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine. 

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers. 

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along. 

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say. 

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say. 

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.” 

“You should be so lucky.” 

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss. 

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this… 

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops. 

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through. 

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?” 

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat. 

“You gonna behave?” 

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key. 

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass. 

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected. 

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?” 

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath. 

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way. 

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again. 

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on. 

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself. 

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green. 

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter. 

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn. 

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again. 

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?” 

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.” 

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?” 

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing. 

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…” 

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance. 

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there. 

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip. 

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap. 

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?” 

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him. 

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips. 

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you. 

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise. 

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat. 

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes. 

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath. 

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one. 

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time. 

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him. 

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more. 

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.” 

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle. 

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace. 

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.” 

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand. 

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..” 

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!” 

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?” 

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts. 

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction. 

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes. 

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…” 

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away wet. 

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press. 

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak. 

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit. 

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man. 

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping. 

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face. 

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss. 

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge. 

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter. 

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow. 

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand. 

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that. 

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs. 

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it. 

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are. 

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you. 

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder. 

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?” 

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full. 

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…” 

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager. 

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs. 

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him. 

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving. 

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside. 

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch. 

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest. 

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet. 

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks. 

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.  

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob. 

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze. 

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.” 

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door. 

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer. 

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers. 

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong. 

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod. 

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.” 

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.” 

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

[sleepiexx]

The Afterparty

Leon S. Kennedy x fem!Reader

Summary: Leon visits his best friend who he’s pining over late at night, she greets him with open arms and slurred laments of love

Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, reader is drunk throughout the story, Leon is a chronic overuser of the word “sweetheart”

Word count: 1376

(Y/N) had given Leon the spare key to her house so that he could help out in case of an emergency. That was the official reason between the two, of course, but (Y/N) didn’t mind him popping in whenever, she told him as much. Yet still, at 3:23 am, coming over to her’s directly after a long mission, Leon felt like a creep.

She’d told him a million times how she may as well be nocturnal and that him stopping by at odd hours of the night unannounced was no problem, but that did nothing to quell the awkwardness Leon felt stepping into his friend’s house.

He couldn’t tell whether or not she was awake. From the foyer he could tell that lights were on in the house, but none looked like the overhead. Just some mood lighting she had set to purple.

“If you’re here to kill me, come back when I’m sober so I can enjoy it!” She yelled. So she had heard him coming in.

He followed the noise to her living room where she sat, back facing Leon in a strappy backless dress. It was one of the dresses she frequently wore when she went out; specifically Leon’s favorite, not that she knew that. He walked up behind her, cautious and quiet so he could go undetected.

“Not here to kill you sweetheart,” he hummed into her ear, anxiousness traded for amusement.

She screamed and fell forward, off the couch, scrambling to turn around and see who it was, quickly realizing it was just Leon.

“Leon!! You fucking creeper.” She pouted, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed at her fright.

She stood up and stumbled over to him. Leon took note that she still had her strappy heels on so either she just got back, or she was really trashed. He hoped it was the latter as he wasn’t too fond of the idea of her coming home late at night on her own, likely intoxicated. She shoved her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

“I missed you so much, it should be illegal for you to be gone that long.” She slurred, nuzzling further into his chest.

Definitely trashed.

(Y/N) was an incredibly emotional and touchy drunk. A few shots and she wanted three things, world peace, to tell everyone she knew that she loved them, and to snuggle up with the nearest person, which most of the time ended up being Leon.

She pulled away, hands still wrapped around his biceps; or at least trying to, lord knows what a feat it would be to wrap one hand around his entire bicep. Her eyes ran over his face, seemingly looking for something. Leon had no clue what.

“Are you hurt? You didn’t get hurt did you?” She worried aloud.

He smiled softly and shook his head, muttering a “nope.”

She nodded very seriously, “good because you can’t get hurt. That would be very bad. I love you too much.”

“I’m sure you do sweetheart,” he chuckled, pushing her back down to the couch.

“I’m serious! You’re my best friend, and- and you mean so much to me. I don’t know what I’d do if you-”

Leon cut her off, trying to redirect her attention. If she kept going, she’d talk herself to tears about how upset she’d be if Leon died, and he wasn’t too fond of seeing her cry.

“I know, I know sweetheart. I love you too, now why don’t we watch a movie or something?”

“Only if we can cuddle,”

“I think we should both get changed before that.” He said, gesturing at his field attire and her clubbing dress; eyes looking her up and down before staring at her feet, “why are you still wearing your shoes?”

“I couldn’t figure out how to get them off. Straps are hard,” she frowned.

He nodded in agreement, sitting on the couch at her feet and patting his thigh, “Yea they are. Let me do it.”

She laid her legs across his lap where he’d been patting and watched as he carefully undid the straps. She sat up muttering, “You’re so pretty Leon, do people tell you how pretty you are?”

“Just you.”

“Well more people should tell you because you’re such a handsome man.” She coo’d, squishing his cheeks.

He shook his head. As he finished with her shoes, he grabbed them in one hand, helping (Y/N) up with the other.

“C’mon, princess, let’s get changed.”

“Hehehe ‘princess,’ you’re so sweet Leon, how do you not have a girlfriend yet?” (Y/N) giggled.

‘Probably because I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend,’ Leon thought to himself, he wouldn’t actually admit that though, not now at least.

“Not a lot of girls want to date a guy who’s always gone for work.” He said instead.

(Y/N) frowned at that, “But you’re so worth it, Leon. Other girls are crazy, I’d date you.”

Leon blushed slightly at the thought but denied it nonetheless, the slur of her words still too strong to take anything she said seriously. “You’re drunk, sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,”

Leon shook his head, “C’mon now, we gotta change.” He said, walking into her room and toward the dresser, placing her shoes right beside it in a place she wouldn’t trip. “Do you still have the sweatpants and tee shirt you stole from me?”

“You mean the ones you left here for sleepovers?”

“Sure,” he replied.

She grinned, going up to the dresser herself and digging through one of the drawers, pulling out and presenting Leon with his clothes. “Yes, I do.”

Leon took them from her and went to the guest bathroom to change, leaving her to do the same. As he stepped out of the bathroom he heard his name being called.

“Leon!”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He called back, standing outside her bedroom door.

“I need help,” she whined.

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm”

He opened the door, revealing (Y/N) stuck halfway in her dress.

“There’s stupid straps on this stupid dress too.”

Leon laughed hard at the way she was stuck awkwardly between the straps.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me! You’re being mean.” She frowned.

He faked some pity for her, “aw I’m sorry (Y/N), let me help you.”

She beamed at him, lifting her arms so he could pull the dress up from the bottom, definitely not the way it was supposed to be taken off. No wonder she got stuck.

“Turn around.”

“Why?” She asked, still not following.

“So I can reach the back straps, and so that you don’t flash your tits at me.”

She closed her eyes and turned up her nose, turning around nonetheless. “They’d be the best pair of tits you ever saw,” she snarked.

He shook his head at her antics and undid the straps. Carefully, he slipped the dress down off of her.

“Arms up,” he muttered.

As she followed his command, he slipped the oversized tee shirt she had onto her.

“I trust that you can put your shorts on yourself?”

She nodded, not caring at all that Leon was still there as he’d likely already just seen whatever there was to see from the back and slipping on her shorts. She spun around quickly.

“Can we watch a movie and cuddle now?”

“Yes we can watch a movie and cuddle now,”

(Y/N) smiled and slid into her bed, lifting one side of the covers and patting it as an invitation for Leon to come sit next to her. He did as she gestured and she instantly snuggled into his side.

Grabbing the remote to turn on the tv, he asked, “What movie are we watching?”

She shook her head, “I dunno, just pick something.”

He nodded, turning on the first movie that looked good. He knew it would end up just being background noise.

(Y/N) yawned quietly and Leon turned to her, seeing her eyes fighting to stay open.

“You tired?”

She nodded, finally closing her eyes. Just before her breathing steadied she murmured a quiet, “I love you, Leon.”

He smiled, holding her tighter. “I love you too sweetheart.”

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Nice To Meet You - Guys Like You | Part I

an interactive top gun fic series! with a poll waiting for you at the end!

summary: Nat introduces you to the squad for the very first time. You expected a lot, but certainly not two of the most drop-dead gorgeous men ever to flirt with you.

6k only a tw for alcohol ig? otherwise just simping. on every and all ends.

guys like you masterlist | top gun masterlist

Nat's keys clanging onto the living room table should have been your first hint that something was not going to be normal about this evening. That she appeared in your doorway instead of vanishing into the shower next was an absolute red flag.

"We're going out tonight", she announced, not a trace of a smile on her face. You turned off your phone with a sigh and propped your head up on your pillow.

"Gee, not even a 'hello' or 'how are you' today, hm?", you asked.

"You need to go out", she went on, completely brushing over your interruption. She was dead-set on giving you a speech, you could tell. She was still sweaty, her hair slicked back, her flight-suit zipped up, but she was looking at you as though she hadn't just been through hours upon hours of what you'd probably call torture. "You've been just sitting in this room for the past two weeks and I can't stand it anymore."

You sat up with another sigh, tugging at your oversized, sauce-stained shirt that you were suddenly much too aware of.

"Nat, please, I need to get settled first."

"You settled a week ago."

She wasn't taking any bullshit today. She had let you off the hook too many times already, up until now swayed by your half-assed arguments of why you were hiding in your bedroom. "You're going out with us tonight."

"Us?", you asked, dreading the answer. Nat didn't have any friends outside of work here.

"Me and the squad", she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

"No", you laughed. "No, definitely not."

She frowned, finally moving out of the doorway and settling at the foot of your bed instead. At least it felt more like an eye-to-eye conversation now.

"It's just the squad", she shrugged.

"Just the squad?", you asked. "Just the squad? Nat, those people fly multi-million-dollar aircrafts on a daily basis, they're all ripped as hell and make thrice the money I made back in San Fran. I don't even have a job."

"First of all, you've applied for jobs, it takes time", she reasoned. (Sometimes you could have slapped her for her rationalism.) "Also I'm one of those people and my job never bothered you before."

You stared at her like she'd gone mad. How could she not get this? Yes, they were normal to her, they were her colleagues, her friends, but to you? Um, hello?

"Yeah, because I have pictures of you pooping your diapers", you said, exasperation lacing your tone. "I've known you for as long as I can remember. Those people have never met me. And I don't need them to meet me at my worst."

Even though she'd been dead-set on getting you out of this apartment, she still softened a little at that.

"You're not at your worst anymore", she reassured, smiling at you. "You're beyond that. You're starting a new life now."

"Still", you snorted. "I'm a nobody compared to you guys."

"God, don't say that!", she groaned, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "That kind of thinking is exactly why you need to get out of here for a few hours. You're coming with me, I don't care what you have to say about it. We leave at eight, we'll get takeout on the way and I promise that if you're not feeling any better by midnight, we'll go home."

You knew that you couldn't argue with her. She was determined to get you out of this apartment and even if you didn't agree, she'd drag you out screaming. She'd have no problem either - she was way stronger than you.

"I hate you", you mumbled, no real malice behind the words. She just grinned and got up to stretch.

"Great", she chuckled. "I'm gonna go shower and then get ready. If you're not done by eight I'm carrying you into the car myself, I don't care."

You just grabbed a lonesome sock from the bed and threw it at her as she turned and walked out, leaving you to yourself, your own thoughts and the realisation that you actually had to meet all those high-maintenance people. It took two seconds before you were tearing open your closet and dragging your shirt over your head. You had barely one and a half hours left to get ready and lord help you if you weren't finished on time.

...

You were buzzing with so much nervous energy when you got in the Uber that you felt like you were about to mutate into a bee. You couldn't imagine that would be any worse than what was about to happen anyway. Honestly, you'd been dreading meeting Nat's friends for months now, but it had got much, much worse when you'd moved out to San Diego. Because it had become a very real possibility. And today, well, today seemed to be the day that all those fears that had been festering for weeks and weeks would truly become reality.

You spent the entire car ride staring out of the window, thinking about how they'd surely all sneer at you, look at you with that expression just in between pity and arrogance that somehow all rich people wore. Maybe there'd be one or two decent people. Hopefully there would. Nat wasn't usually friends with absolute dickheads, but then again even back in highschool she'd got along with most of those popular jocks that wouldn't have looked twice at you. To be fair, she'd thrown some punches here and there, but you'd still rather keep to yourself than meet a bunch of snobs. At least you knew that Nat would be with you and that she wouldn't break her promise - if you weren't enjoying yourself, she'd take you back home dead on twelve.

You let out a last sigh when the car stopped, climbing out of your seat as slowly as you could while Nat paid, trying desperately to stall for as long as you possibly could. But she tutted at you and tucked her arm into yours, dragging you with her through the parking lot and over the threshold.

It didn't take long for you to realise that this was a navy bar. There were very, very few people in civilian clothes - in normal ones, you'd say - most of them were clad in uniforms. You could have rolled your eyes at that alone. Why were navy men always so goddamn eager to show off that they were navy? They couldn't seriously think anyone was going to throw themselves at them just because of their fucking uniforms. You'd much rather keep a very safe distance away from any and all navy guys - a radius of at least two miles.

"There they are", Phoenix said, a grin playing on her lips as she pointed at the corner with the pool tables. You internally braced yourself, taking another deep breath before you even dared to look where she was pointing, clutching the little purse you'd slung over your shoulder to ground you.

The bar wasn't particularly crowded yet and you could make out a group of people - not in uniform, thank god - huddled around both of the pool tables. As far as you could see, there was only one other woman. Of course. You should've guessed that Nat was flying with a bunch of testosterone monsters.

You hadn't expected much else, of course... but it still made you hyper-aware of the dress you'd picked out.

Nat whistled and let go of you when you got close enough to the squad (your skin was practically burning up and you were seriously considering turning around and making a run for it, but you'd never been too good at running and were much to scared to face-plant on the floor). The guys turned around like dogs, answering to her whistle and nothing more, and way too many pairs of eyes landed on you in the span of a single second.

"Alright?", Nat grinned, shoving you a little step in front of her. It wasn't like you were shy. You really weren't. Maybe you weren't exactly extroverted, but you certainly weren't shy. Usually. So you couldn't even be mad at her for forcing you to come out of your shell like this. "I'd like to introduce you idiots to my roommate."

One of the guys put his pool cue down and immediately your focus switched to him. You had to admit that for a moment there you forgot how to breathe. He was tall and he was blond and he had strikingly green eyes and broad shoulders and that button-up was really doing things for you. You'd expected Nat's friends to be talented and rich, sure, but not that goddamn handsome.

"You never told us your roommate's stunning", he drawled, all Texan accent dripping from his words like molten honey and sticking to your brain, and his grin almost sent you careening straight into his arms. You needed longer than you should've to really process his words, only realising that oh god, had he just called you stunning? when Nat was already rolling her eyes.

"Do not, Bagman", she hissed, "flirt with her or I will end you."

Bagman only chuckled at that and strode towards you, holding out his hand and luckily you had enough braincells left to grasp it. Normal, you told yourself. Totally normal greeting. You did your best to ignore the heat in your cheeks and the way his fingers felt.

"Hangman", he introduced himself, that award-winning grin still on his lips. "But you can call me Jake."

He winked, completely brushing over Nat's threat. She slapped the back of his head and he finally pulled his hand from yours as you stuttered out your name.

"What did I just say", Nat seethed, practically dragging him away from you. He just shrugged and chuckled to himself.

"Can't help myself around beautiful ladies, I'm afraid."

She slapped him another time for that and he brought his hand to his hair to rub over the spot that you were sure must already have been sore. Nat had a wicked right hook.

"Keep it in your pants, Bagman", she threatened again, then turned back to you. "Alright, now that the worst is over, I'll introduce you to the others."

She spun to stand next to you, eyes narrowing as she paused for a second. You could barely raise your eyebrows. All of this was so overwhelming. You'd expected everything from embarrassment to ridicule, but certainly not that anyone was about to flirt with you. And one gorgeous piece of human being as well.

But he probably did that with everyone.

He was navy, for gods sake! What were you thinking? Navy guys were toxic assholes that brought a new conquest home every night only to leave them unsatisfied and doing the walk of shame in the morning. You had enough troubles already, you really didn't need to add another man to the pile.

So you straightened and made yourself swear not to give Jake another second of acknowledgement.

Nat seemed to have finished her assessment of the group, whatever it had been, and she didn't look satisfied.

"Where's Bradshaw?", she asked.

"Probably doing what he does best", Jake sighed, snatching the pool cue up again and leaning over the table to take a shot. "Slow ridin'."

You had seriously no clue whatsoever how pool worked, but he straightened again with a self-satisfied expression and you guessed he must've done good, especially when his friend groaned. He caught your gaze and you snapped it away, cursing yourself for already fucking up on your promise. Nat huffed.

"He better have a convincing excuse", she muttered. "I thought I told everyone to make a good first impression."

Then she clapped her hands.

"Okay! Anyway. Next to Bagman, that's Coyote."

Coyote raised his beer at you and smiled. You gave him a little wave.

"Next to Coyote that's Fanboy and next to him that's Payback."

You waved at them too, laughing as Fanboy waved back with just a little too much vigor and as Payback threw you a sloppy salute. Nat turned to the other pool table.

"Over there that's Fritz, Yale, Harvard, Omaha and Halo."

She grinned, grabbed you by the shoulders and maneuvered you around, pointing at a man with big glasses on his nose, sitting in one of the few chairs that were facing the pool tables. He stopped popping nut mix into his mouth the second your eyes fell on him, his hand hovering uncertainly in mid-air.

"And that's", Nat said, almost prideful, "That's Bob."

"Ooh!", you keened, a little more confident that everybody seemed at least somewhat happy to see you and a little more excited now that you remembered a person from Nat's stories. "Backseater Bob?"

"That's me", Bob chuckled, red tinting his cheeks as he smiled, putting away the nut mix to wipe his hands off on his pants and reach one out to shake yours. You couldn't help but mirror his grin - his fingers were soft and he was gentle with you, a bit unlike Jake. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too", you nodded, already comfortable with him after all of two seconds. You understood now why Nat was so glad to have him as her backseater - he seemed like the complete opposite of the navy cliché that you despised so much.

Bob just smiled at you for a moment. His glasses made his eyes a little bigger than they probably were and honestly, you could see yourself getting along well with him. He seemed sweet and genuine and kind and you could feel your anxiety start to let go of you, start to slip away a bit.

"Oh", he let out and straightened. "D'you want something to drink?"

"She does", Nat interrupted before you could decline, as though she'd already known you would. She probably had, to be honest. She knew you well enough. "Would you get us two tequila shots and two mojitos?"

"Two tequila shots and two mojitos?", you laughed, turning around to her in surprise.

"I told you, you need to let loose", she grinned. "And we're letting loose tonight!"

"Oh yeah", you snorted, pushing her away by her shoulder as Bob got up and walked over to the bar. "Really letting loose apparently."

Nat only laughed and let herself flop down on one of the chairs, patting the seat next to her with Bob's nut mix on it. You grabbed it and sat down as well, brushing your hand down the front of your dress, smoothing it out.

You watched Nat's friends bustle about the pool tables. Watched Nat's squad as they talked and laughed. Watched Jake - just out of the corner of your eyes, really! - as he clapped Coyote on the back and you could've sworn that even though you really definitely weren't looking!!! his eyes were fixed on you. It had you fiddling with the straps of your dress.

"So?", Nat asked eventually, drawing your attention back to her. "They're not as bad as you thought, are they?"

Internally, you had to agree with her. Okay, maybe you'd been a little overdramatic. Maybe they weren't as bad. They didn't seem so. But also you'd known them for less than two minutes and you knew just how good people sometimes were at deceiving you.

"Give me a minute to get to know them and I'll tell you after", you smiled.

"That I can work with."

"Ladies", Jake's voice rang out, just before he stepped up right in front of you, leaving you practically no choice but to look up at him. He was grinning, the pool cue still in his hand. "You'll play a round, won't you?"

Nat shifted in her seat.

"Haven't got your ass kicked enough yet?", she asked.

"You know you couldn't kick my ass if you tried, Phee."

"We'll see about that."

She was up in a second, grabbing the cue from Jake and strolling over to the table as you watched her. You hadn't moved. You weren't about to.

That almost lazy kind of teasing they had going on reminded you of all those other people like Jake that she'd been friends with throughout her life. Not that you didn't make fun of each other - wasn't that practically the baseline of every friendship? But with them... You couldn't put your finger on it just now. It wasn't that they actually despised each other, you knew what Nat's hatred looked like and it wasn't this, and it certainly wasn't flirting either, you knew what Nat's type looked like and as handsome as you found Jake, he definitely wasn't it. Maybe it was just the combination of their personalities, maybe it was nothing at all. It was a bit like they still hadn't quite decided that they liked each other, even though they obviously did get on.

"What about you?", Jake asked and you blinked up at him in surprise. Sure, he'd addressed the both of you, but you'd kind of just assumed that he'd meant Nat.

"Uh, I don't play", you said carefully, still unsure if - and if, then why - he was talking to you. Hadn't Nat just agreed to play against him? Were two players not enough somehow? Was this like, a group game?

Jake raised his eyebrows.

"You don't play pool?", he asked, like he'd never met anybody who dared not play pool.

"No, I don't", you said, very slowly, as though that would somehow lessen the risk of miscommunication. "I don't know how to."

The corners of his lips tugged upwards at that, just slightly, like he wanted to hide his grin from you. Was he making fun of you? Honestly you couldn't even be mad at him if he was - you'd expected pretty much nothing else from the squad. But it did come as a bit of a surprise now that your impression of them all had so rapidly changed.

"Well we can't have that", Jake tutted, reaching out a hand again, hanging in mid-air as you looked at it sceptically. This whole situation was a little overwhelming. Or maybe it was just him that was a little overwhelming. "You're at a navy bar, Sunny. You have to know pool."

You glanced from his hand back up at his face and felt kind of daft with how much time your brain needed to process all this.

"Sunny?", you asked, because of all the questions that you had this was the easiest one to phrase. And maybe because it was the thing that had thrown you off track the most. Jake's grin only widened.

"Navy nature to give nicknames, darlin'", he chuckled while you realised that you'd still not taken his hand and that at this point it probably started being weird (and heavy) to hold his arm out like that. So despite your earlier promise, which, you had to admit, you'd already thrown out of the window a second after you'd made it, you acknowledged him very much. As carefully as you possibly could, you put your hand in his as he talked, and immediately he tightened his grip on you and helped you stand up. You were a little too close to him now, a little too close for good, and if Nat hadn't been occupied racking the pool balls she probably would have kicked Jake in the face. But he didn't seem to mind, only carried on talking, apparently not whatsoever surprised by the sudden close proximity or by how easily the pet names had slipped off his lips.

Sunny. Darlin'.

"And that's just a lovely dress", he went on, leaning in even closer, so close that for just a second you almost could have felt his breath on your ear. "I think yellow might be my new favourite colour."

He pulled back with a wink and then he was gone, just the weight of his hand resting in yours left as he led you to the pool table Nat was setting up. He let go of you the very moment she looked up, a smile on her lips, and your breath caught in your throat. Jake was playing a dangerous game and he was pulling you down with him.

He strolled around the table back to Coyote, who was still holding the other pool cue in his hands, and Nat took the few steps towards you, her smile dropping a bit.

"Bagman bother you?", she asked, genuinely a little worried.

"Nah", you said, a little shaky, and shook your head. "I'm fine."

It wasn't a real answer, but she let it slide, nodding as she watched Jake return with the second cue now.

"You just let me know if he does", she muttered and then there he was, too quick for you to respond.

Nat was usually protective. She always had been, and rightfully so. Always a little weary of guys you went on dates with, always a little weary of guys you brought home. You'd minded sometimes, like back in college when you'd had a crush on that guy from musical theatre and she had threatened so vividly to break his neck if he hurt you that he'd never talked to you again. But she had clearly been right about most of them and so you really should trust her, really, you should... and yet.

She was practically telling you to stay far away from Jake. She was doing it the other way around, for now, but you were sure she'd give you the whole speech tomorrow morning as well. And you'd just met this guy, it wasn't like you were head over heels in love with him, but he was charming and flirty and it was working on you.

He was just about to open his mouth and, you guessed, start explaining pool to you when Nat suddenly straightened.

"Bradshaw!", she called out, so loud that the whole bar must've heard her, and you turned to see what - who - she was looking at as if in reflex. The crowd nothing short of parted for him.

A ridiculous Hawaiian shirt on that caught your eye first, then those sunglasses - were that Ray Bans? Hadn't they got out of style like, a decade ago? - and then... Oh, and then.

"That's a pornstache", you said, quite dumbly, you had to admit, and Nat snorted. You turned to her and then back to him and even though you were still very much gaping, you were laughing now too. "Like, an actual 80s pornstache."

Pornstache had caught sight of his squad apparently and was making his way towards you and the closer he came, the less funny you felt about the whole situation.

Pornstache was attractive.

Maybe it was the hair. Maybe it was the swagger in his step, the fact that he was practically oozing confidence. Not that the others weren't, but he... well, you kinda couldn't look away from him as he approached. Maybe it was the moustache after all.

You hadn't ever met a man who could pull that off.

He shouldn't be allowed to either.

God, how was Nat working with all these gorgeous specimen? They should all be sued for looking like that. It was too much power in the hands of the navy.

Pornstache stopped short in front of you, a light grin on his lips, and someone - Jake perhaps? - let out a resigned breath.

"You're late", Nat said, crossing her arms like she always did when she didn't like something. His grin only widened.

"There needs to be someone fashionably late in every squadron", he chuckled, slipping off his sunglasses and hooking them into the collar of his shirt and if it had been up to you you'd have forced them back up on his nose because now you had to watch as he glanced from Nat to you and took you in. He was way too attractive to be eyeing you up like this.

Men like him didn't eye you up like this.

Especially not in yellow sundresses.

Not that the dress wasn't pretty. It was. And you weren't overdressed like you'd have been in the black one that you'd had hanging at your closet door too. But it was kind of weird to be standing in front of all these testosterone-y men in a cute little dress like that.

Though Jake seemed to have liked it.

God, first him and now Pornstache...

"Rooster", Pornstache said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. "Or Bradley. But you can call me whatever you want."

You could practically hear Nat rolling her eyes as you shook his hand, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen into your face as heat rushed through your arm and straight to your cheeks.

"What is it with you guys tonight?", she sighed, uncrossing her arms and grabbing her pool cue instead. She turned back to the table that she'd finished setting up and nudged Jake away to take his place, apparently at her wits' end and done with the conversation. Pornstache - Bradley - wasn't.

No, he was still looking at you and you still couldn't look away.

"So you're Nat's new roommate, I assume?"

You couldn't help but admire the way his voice sounded. If it already had you melting like this within two minutes of meeting him, you didn't want to imagine how you'd react if you heard it in the morning. Or late at night. Or close to your ear. Or- Wow, you really needed to fucking stop.

"Yeah", you choked out and cleared your throat as embarrassment set in. You shouldn't be thinking about Nat's colleagues like this. You shouldn't be thinking about anyone like this. You needed a drink and to cool off. God, where was Bob with those tequila shots? "Yeah, Nat's new roommate."

Bradley nodded, that damned grin still on his lips.

"But you knew her before?"

"Yeah", you said again, a little steadier this time. "Yeah, I've known her my whole life."

You should stop saying 'yeah' that much. It was making you sound like that was the only word you knew. Yeah.

"Really?", he asked and raised his eyebrows, glancing at Nat who was now leaning over the pool table and taking her shot, totally concentrated. "She never told us, just said she was introducing us to a friend who's recently moved. If you've known her that long, she could've introduced us back at Top Gun."

"You went to Top Gun with her?", you asked, raising your eyebrows to look at Nat too. "She never told me."

"Seems like she didn't tell us much about each other", Bradley said and somehow, he seemed rather amused by it - his lip was quirking up and his moustache followed and you felt like that should rather be funny than attractive. Shame that it wasn't.

Before you could say anything more, Bob came back with a tray in his hands, balancing a bunch of glasses. He barely seemed to notice Bradley, too focused on not letting anything fall and shatter.

"Tequila or mojito first?", he asked. Nat straightened up and grabbed the two shot glasses from the tray.

"Tequila", she said, back to at least a half-grin. "Thanks, Bob."

She gave one to you and clinked them and the two of you downed your shots like you'd always done - one big sip in sync, heads thrown back and glasses practically touching your noses and laughs on your lips when you put them down again, with just a bit too much fervor on Bob's tray.

"Now the mojito", she chuckled, taking the cocktail glasses next and handing you one again.

"You ladies seem to be enjoying yourselves", Jake suddenly said, leaning against the pool table with that grin on his lips but somehow, it was tighter now and his voice was a little strained. Maybe it was the tequila just blurring up your senses for a moment. Maybe your perception was fucked.

"Have to", Nat grinned and winked at you. "After all you lot aren't any help."

Bradley and Jake started protesting like she had somehow insulted their honour, but she only laughed and turned back to the game, already taking a sip of the cocktail in her hand. You followed her example.

Bob carefully sat down the tray on one of the chairs and picked up the nut mix again. You couldn't help but smile. It was somehow endearing, the rest of them sipping beer and drinks and him just popping nut mix into his mouth like a grad student.

"So, Sunny", Jake said, suddenly so close again that you could smell his aftershave. "Your turn."

You glanced at the pool table and raised your eyebrows. You should probably say no, thanks, I can't play, goodbye and leave it be. Leave him be. Nat would probably prefer if you did. She'd probably prefer if you turned around and joined Bob and made friends with her backseater instead of let Bagman, like she so affectionately called him, teach you how to play pool. But he was an attractive man and you were only human and anyway, you imagined you'd have enough time left to talk to everybody else. So you looked up at him and his impossibly green eyes that you couldn't get over and took the cue out of his hands.

"Only if you teach me", you said, stopping short at the end to ponder if maybe, just maybe.... So you grinned and added "Bagman" and watched his face fall for a second as you pushed past him and tried to make sense of the pool table.

Alright, so there were nine balls in different colors and if you were right, you were supposed to push them into the pockets in the corners and at the sides. Right? But that couldn't be it. It couldn't be that easy.

Jake had apparently restarted his original train of thought and turned around to you, his chest almost - just almost - pressing into your shoulder.

"I was planning on teaching you, Sunny", he chuckled, straightened and turned a little more serious. "A'ight, it's actually quite easy once you got it. So we've got ten balls in total and your goal is to pocket the nine colored ones. But you're only allowed to strike the cueball, the white one. With me so far?"

"So far", you nodded. "So basically I have to like, hit all these other balls but just with the white one and not with the cue? And if I pocket the cueball then what happens?"

"That's a foul", he explained patiently. Honestly you hadn't expected he'd react so well to dumb questions. "If you pocket the cueball, your turn's over and the other player-"

He stopped short. You were just about to ask if he was alright when you heard it too.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

The music was gone. Completely gone. Someone had turned off the jukebox.

"Every fucking time", Jake muttered, running his hand over his face as you looked at him and frowned. You were missing something major here and honestly couldn't think of what. But then Nat put down her cue and her drink and maneuvered around Jake to pry your drink from your hand as well.

"You're gonna wanna see this", she chuckled, one of those rare, all-consuming grins on her lips and you could hardly do anything but stumble after her as she made her way through the crowd. You didn't think anything could have prepared you for the next five minutes.

Because okay, Bradley was sitting at the piano. Okay, Bradley could also play said piano. And okay, Bradley could sing as well. And just maybe he really wasn't bad. Maybe he was really, really good.

Maybe Nat thought the same because you hadn't seen her that carefree in a while. Maybe everyone did - almost everyone, at least, because almost everyone was laughing and singing along and having the time of their lives. Maybe you did too.

No, you definitely did too.

Bradley had popped his sunglasses back up on his nose and was clearly enjoying being the center of attention for a minute. And you couldn't help but be completely enamoured by it. By him. You couldn't help but laugh along with Nat and let her twirl you around and sing, too loud and probably much too off-key, and fall from Bob's arms into Fanboys and you really couldn't help but somehow feel like a part of the group.

And then the song was over and you were panting, your cheeks hurt from grinning and you had to brace your palm on the lid of the piano to not fall over.

Fanboy's arm was still wrapped around your shoulder somehow and you didn't know if you were leaning on him or if he was leaning on you, but it didn't really matter. You were glad now that you had chosen that summer dress - it was light and breezy and you didn't have to worry about sweating through skin-tight fabric or anything like that. No, you just had to sweep your hair out of your face and throw your head back and laugh.

And look at Bradley, maybe, whose eyes were twinkling with amusement. He looked straight out of a fever dream. His sunglasses lay abandoned on the piano lid - he had really pretty eyes. How had you not noticed before?

"Is this like a regular show you pull off?", you asked, a little breathless as Fanboy untangled himself from you, the conversation the rest of the squad was starting up now fading into background noise. You were running high on adrenaline, the tequila was finally hitting your system, the anxiety was fully disappearing and because spirits were so high, your confidence came crashing back into you like a huge wave of relief that had you collapsing on the piano bench right next to Bradley. "'Cuz it seemed like everyone was quite used to that."

He chuckled, turning his head so he could look at you. He was tall, you realised, really really tall, at least taller than you by a head and you didn't know if it was this apparent because you were suddenly sitting or just because you were suddenly so close to him. Not that you wanted to complain either way.

"Let's say it's not the first time", he smiled. You raised your eyebrows.

"i'll ignore that you're deflecting for now", you laughed, not quite caring that he was deflecting at all. (You were pretty sure you knew the answer anyway.) "And instead I'll say I'm impressed. I've always admired people that can play."

"Do you play?", he asked, genuinely interested, drawing his hands back from the piano as the jukebox started up again. You had to say you'd liked the live music a little better. A little a lot. After all, Bradley Bradshaw was a sight to behold.

"No", you said. "Not anymore. I played... Well, I kinda had lessons back when I was little, but my family- Yeah, no, I don't play."

You swallowed and he raised his eyebrows, but luckily didn't comment on your stuttering. You really didn't need to traumadump on people you'd met half an hour ago. If it had even been half an hour. (It probably hadn't.)

"I could teach you", he offered and maybe you were wrong, maybe you were stupid, maybe you were tispier than you'd thought but you could've sworn that just for a moment, he glanced down at your lips - but you probably were wrong and stupid and tispier than you'd thought.

"Slow Ride."

You looked up to see Jake leaning against the piano, a beer bottle in his hand and a forced grin on his lips, entirely focused on Bradley next to you.

"Bagman."

You glanced back and forth between them as they stared at each other in silence.

Maybe you shouldn't be here. This felt like you really should not be here. Were you missing something? You'd thought that the squad was like one big family. These two seemed more like they were about to rip each others throats out and you didn't know if you wanted to be in between them when it inevitably happened.

"So you're back in showbiz, I see", Jake chuckled, putting his beer down on the piano lid.

"Some people can actually make it there, whether you believe it or not", Bradley shot back, his eyebrows raised and his lips still twisted into that grin that you were pretty certain was an act in itself.

Jake let out a dry laugh.

"Maybe you should change career paths", he suggested. "Actually do make it somewhere."

"Maybe I should leave", you muttered, already halfway off the bench and on your way to down the mojito Nat had left on the pool table, just to get out of whatever this was. Even though whatever it was came closer than anything else had so far to what you'd expected, it threw you off track more than the rest had. You needed a minute. And you needed a drink.

"Don't worry", Bradley said, turning back to you after throwing a last glance at Jake. "Bagman's gonna go now."

"And leave the poor woman with you?", Jake chuckled, straightening up with a grin. His beer bottle clinged against the wood. "I don't think so."

Having the both of them stare at you had your skin crawling.

That confidence that you'd had earlier? Gone. The anxiety you'd thought you were done with? Back. Fun! Where was Nat to get you out of this? Where was Nat when you needed her? You should've listened to her and kept away. You should've sat down next to Bob and had a pleasant conversation, but no. No, you had to find the two troublemakers of the team and get right in between their little quarrel.

"I was about to teach the poor woman how to play piano", Bradley said, eyes still fixed on you.

"Really?", Jake asked. "Because I was about to teach her how to play pool."

He raised his eyebrows and Bradley did too and they were looking at you all silent like they expected you to say something now and oh god, what had you got yourself into?

Two of the most gorgeous men you'd ever seen - to your great dismay - who were friends, no, colleagues of Nat's, who flew multi-million-dollar aircrafts and spent their days saving the world, looking at you and flirting with you and... flirting with you.

Nat had been right, no matter how this would work out.

You'd really needed to get out of your bedroom.

...

So you've tripped and fallen right into a love triangle, it seems. What are you gonna do?

a/n: this somehow didn't really turn out the way i wanted but i dont mind? like, im quite happy with how it did turn out tbh!!!! and im so excited to finally publish this chapter ahhhhhhhh lets see what happens!

Guys Like You tag list (sign up here)

@sometimesanalice

@averyhotchner

@krys-orion

@xstellakx

@princess76179

@purpleisblonde

@Pono-Pura-Vida

@slimeyliveshere

@childofmoonbeams

@snowy-branch

@perasperaadastrawriting

@diorrfairy

@deep-in-my-thoughts13

@emorychase

@jesterstrange

[writethrough]

Hi, could you do either Billy Hargrove or Eddie Munson reacting to seeing their s/o who usually doesn’t like children, interact with a baby/toddler who they actually like? Maybe the s/o was hesitant at first but then the baby just became really attached to them? Ty <3

Little Chickadees

(Eddie Munson x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: None (I think)

Word Count: 889

A/N: Full disclosure, I really wanted to write both Eddie and Billy, but Billy's version has taken on two very different paths, so I need a bit more time with his. One is a little more wholesome and fluffy while the other is on the serious side. I'll link the fluffy one with this post, but not sure about the other since it won't have the same tone.

Thank you for the request! And I hope you enjoy it!

“Eddie, you literally hang out with children all the time!” you said, exasperated.

He gripped his chest as if in pain. “Ouch!”

You groaned. “You know what I mean. It’s just…Kids don’t like me, and I don’t like them. It’s a mutual dislike.”

You were rambling at this point, and both of you knew it.

All you wanted was to spend the day with your boyfriend, but because he was such a sweetheart, he had volunteered both of you for the petting zoo at the Fourth of July carnival. And where there were fuzzy, adorable creatures, there were screaming, crying kids.

“C’mon, it won’t be that bad!” He flopped beside you on his bed. “You technically don’t even have to watch them. That’s what their parents are for. You just have to make sure no one loses a finger to a goat.”

“That’s not helping,” you said.

“Or lets an alpaca loose.”

“Eddie!” You threw a pillow at him.

“Alright!” he laughed, “Alright, I’ll stop.”

You played with the chain hanging from his jeans.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he said, rubbing your knee. “But we should probably head over. I know how much you hate being late.”

You let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”

He offered you his hand, intertwining your fingers to lead you to his van.

You wished it had taken longer to get there. You would have rather listened to Eddie ramble about the most recent campaign than deal with the children of Hawkins.

At least the animals would distract you.

The baby goats were adorable, but you couldn’t help wincing when they bumped their heads together.

Baby ducks and chicks were waddling around in their pens, and the alpacas were corralled in fencing where visitors could see them.

“Think anyone'd mind if I took one of these guys home?” Eddie asked, holding one of the baby ducks.

You gave him a soft smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. “As much as I would love to see you play mother hen—or mother duck—I think stealing isn’t exactly the right answer.”

He puckered his lips in thought. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He set it back in its pen. “And with my luck, it’d probably like Uncle Wayne more than me.”

You hummed and kissed his cheek. “Guess you’ll just have to settle for me.”

You went to pull away, but he quickly caught you around your waist to kiss you properly.

“There’s no settling when you’re the most amazing person I know,” he said into your hair.

Your heart beat a little faster the longer he stared. He always looked at you like you were the only person in the room. And you counted yourself grateful you found someone as kind and loving as him.

“Love you,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his.

“Love you, too.”

Excited shouts and giggles drifted as the kids bounded to the petting zoo.

“Show time,” Eddie said, reluctantly pulling away.

You sighed for what felt like the tenth time. “Yeah, yeah.”

When you got to the main area, Eddie showed some little boys the goats. And when one of them headbutted Eddie’s leg, the boys all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. 

And you briefly caught Eddie biting his lip to keep the groan back. He’d definitely have a bruise tomorrow.

Someone tugged on your shirt to get your attention. Holly Wheeler stood there with her head tilted back.

“Hey, Holly. Where’s your mom?” you asked.

She pointed to her right, where her parents were having what looked like a disagreement.

“Okay,” you nodded, “why don’t we look at the baby chickens? How does that sound?”

She nodded excitedly.

“Alright, Holls.” You gently picked up one of the chicks. “Sit next to me, and you can pet him.”

You both sat on a hay bale, and Holly was transfixed by the creature.

“Just use one finger and be super careful,” you said.

She slowly ran her finger down the chick's back, barely any pressure applied.

“Soft,” she mumbled, a content smile on her face.

“You like him?”

She nodded again, starting her path from the beginning. The chick lowered its head, eyes closing as the repetitive motion put him to sleep.

You grinned. “Looks like he feels safe with you, Holly.”

She giggled but stopped petting him, not wanting to wake him up.

“Let’s put him back with his friends. Wanna see the ducks next?”

She was standing by their pen in an instant.

Her interaction with the ducks went much the same. And soon enough, Mrs. Wheeler called Holly back and gave you a wave of thanks.

You had just put the duck back when Eddie sidled up beside you.

“Kids don’t like you, huh?” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You rolled your eyes. “It was a fluke.”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded as if it made perfect sense. “S’why you were so good with her, right?”

You pinched his side lightly. “Holly’s a sweet kid. Not like your little demons.” You nodded toward the group of boys now at the alpacas.

He shook his head slightly. “That goat had it out for me.”

You laughed, leaning into his side.

He kissed the side of your head. “Knew you’d be fine.”

You faced him. “Whatever you say, Dungeon Master.”

Taglist: @phenomenal-bird, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust

If you’d like to be added to any tag lists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

[lightdusty]

Hard doming Katsuki.... trying to fucking that attitude out of him

Attitude

Dom! Male reader x katsuki

sadist shit katsuki likes it though enjoy loves 💗

Totally didn't write half of this in the hospital 🤞

Bakugou seemed to be in a foul mood today he yelled and screamed at everyone. His tone was more snappy than usual and he of course had his normal attitude but it was worse today. Especially when you went to talk to him and all he did was glare at you, that was not how he normally acted and you didn't like it.

"I don't like this attitude of yours." You said eyes narrowing as katsuki laid on his bed not even looking up to look at you as you leaned against his wall. "And? Is that supposed to be my problem?" He replied back, his focus now on his phone as he swiped through something. You walked up to him and grabbed his phone throwing it across the room. "He-" he didn't even finish as you laid your palm on his chest shoving him back. Getting on top of him you grabbed his hips roughly fingers practically digging into his side.

Katsuki looked highly confused most of the anger that had been stuck on his face melted as he raised his eyebrow at you in confusion titling his head to the side. Grabbing his chin you leaned down and kissed him, he seemed hesitant before kissing you back parting his lips to allow your tongue into his mouth as he lifted his head higher to get closer deepening the kiss. You pulled away quickly flipping him over and already stripping him down along with yourself his body jerked in shock as you quickly undressed him but he didn't do anything he let you remove his clothes with ease.

He expected your fingers to prepare him first. What he did not expect was for lubed to be poured onto his hole before you shoved your cock in him fully. His back arched and his fingers dug into the sheets. It felt painful he didn't think it could hurt this bad but he felt so aroused at the same time. You started thrusting in and out of him hard and fast, katsuki swore under his breath eyeliner that he had worn now running down his face. Katsuki's eyes rolled to the back of his head as his climax was quickly reached. But you didn't stop and all katsuki could do was moan and scream your name out in pleasure of overstimulation. "I take it you won't act like this again?" You said as you continued your voice heavy and bakugou nodded into his pillow where his mouth was biting back moans. "Answer me!" You snapped dangerously your pace picking up and katsuki moaned loudly as he answered breathing heavily. "Y-yes I won't god.. I promi-" he didn't finish his sentence as another moan came out of his mouth when you eventually reached your climax you finally pulled out katsukis worn out and overused body sagging into the sheets as he curled against your side.

He was definitely gonna have to have an attitude with you more often.

[wonieleles]

[10:26pm] ; nishimura riki

“no!” the deafening scream escaped your mouth as you stared at the fallen pillows and blankets in disbelief. “how could you- you know what, just step away from the fort, nishimura riki,” you warned him.

you and riki (actually more like you) had spent the past hour building the pillow fortress. it was your best yet; with a high ceiling made of a clipped blanket to create a dome effect and three different “rooms” with pillows as doors, the fort definitely made a comfortable spot to relax in as the movie played before you.

but when you went to get snacks during the boring classroom scene, you unfortunately came back to a collapsed fortress with pillows and blankets scattered everywhere, and a sheepish riki.

now riki didn’t mean to destroy the fort, after all he helped create it too (and he knew you would look exactly as you did right now if he did); however, when he went to grab his buzzing phone, his elbow crashed into one of the base pillows, and well, everything fell down. he attempted to fix it, but apparently he wasn’t as much of an engineer as he thought.

“look y/n, i really am sorry. i didn’t mean to destroy the fort—i mean, i worked on it too. it’s just my phone was going off, so i wanted to check it, and well, yeah,” riki apologized in a pleading manner. his head was running through the different possible scenarios that could happen right now, and most of them ended with you holding him in a choke hold with no tap outs.

noticing your best friend’s anxious demeanor, you sighed, “it’s ok. we could just sit on the couch.” you placed the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table before plopping down onto the couch.

“wait, are you sure you don’t wanna rebuild it?” riki asked, still sitting on the carpeted floor.

“yeah, i’m not dealing with that again. let’s just watch the movie now,” you told him, grabbing some popcorn and switching to a more comfortable position. “what part are we on?”

“i think they’re about to investigate the disappearances at school,” riki answered, mirroring your position on the couch—legs against his chest.

“ooo, the good part.”

note: i couldn’t find any photos to match the aesthetic so yea 🤗🤗

permanent taglist (open): @yedamdamn @miridicallyyours @jungwonize @linniely @yebin14 @abdiitcryy @stllsph @valewoos @strwberrydinosaur

[buckyalpine]

Hi :> its my birthday today (oct5) and no one really wished me a happy birthday besides my family :<. So may I please request a Bucky x fem!chubby reader romantically and avengers x fem!chubby reader platonically where they surprised her on her birthday and she didn’t expect it because she thought that they don’t care. She cried a little and she received a lot of different gifts. And bucky’s gift was very special and she cried (you can choose what special gift is that😉) and in the end the party ended and both reader and bucky went to their shared room and cuddled for a bit before saying goodnight’s and i love you’s. I hope this is okay! Thank you!!🫶🏻

Hi my lovely!! HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY I hope you had an amazing day, sending you lots of love and birthday hugs!!! <3

11:59 PM

You stared at the time on the clock, sighing to yourself. It was almost 12 and you knew you should have just gone to sleep, it was unlikely any messages would be pouring in anyway. You had a sliver of hope for one person. He wouldn't forget. He would definitely wish you.

12:00 AM

Nothing.

You could feel tears sting your eyes, no one remembered, not even him. What hurt the most was you always remembered all of theirs. You pulled the sheets over yourself, your pillow getting more wet by the second. What a fantastic start to your day.

*****

"Y/n!"

You could hear Steve calling for you, his voice slightly muffled standing outside your door. You trudged out of bed, to find Steve standing with Sam, both of them grinning down at you while you were still in your "I <3 White Wolf" T-shirt.

"You think you could take Sam to do some shopping? He needs some help"

It wasn't the strangest request, the team came to you for help all the time. You couldn't help the feeling of your heart dropping when neither wished you a happy birthday but you figured there wasn't much you could do. You nodded, giving them a weak smile before closing your door to change.

"She looked so sad, maybe we should just tell her"

"Yeah, and ruin 6 months of work?"

"Fine"

*****

"It's for my...friend. She's got a bangin' body like yours, now go try the dress on so I know if it'd fot her or not" You'd spend the entire day shopping with Sam, though he seemed to be more interested in playing dress up with you more than anything. Every time you tried something on, he'd inspect you up and down. This time, his eyes lit up. It was a floor length gown that hugged your curves perfectly. The satin material hugged your body, with a high slit that showed off your thighs. You looked amazing.

"Mhm, yup, how about you go...feed...the ducks?"

"What"

"The one's outside of the mall and I'll join you after, leave the dress in the changeroom"

You felt like you were in a fever dream, but you were really just trying to get through the day. You waited outside for Sam to join you, it appeared he bought the latest dress he made you put on.

You both reached the compound which was empty. At first you were sad, but now you were just mad because of all people to not wish you, not even see you was your boyfriend. What the hell was he doing?

"Sam, where's Bucky?"

"With...Steve?"

"Where's Steve?"

"With Tony..."

"For fucks sake" You whispered to yourself. "Where's Tony and don't say with Nat"

"With Clint"

You stared at him while he had a shit eating grin on his face, dragging you to your floor. You confusedly followed Sam,

"Try it on one more time!"

"But-

"Just do it and show me!"

You put the dress on, admiring yourself in the mirror for a moment before stepping back out into the hall, to find it empty.

"Sam?"

No response.

"Y/n!"

You made your way to the pitch dark living room, confused over where everyone had gone-

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N"

You slapped your hand over your mouth to contain your scream, the room lighting up with the entire team waiting for you, a comically large pile of presents in the center. Well almost everyone was there...you still hadn't seen...

"You know, there's another present waiting for you outside"

You made your way outside to find the garden strung with fairy lights, candles lighting the pathway to the compound lake. Bucky was waiting for you, nervously shifting on his feet while you ran to him,

"Happy Birthday angel" He whispered, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. He cupped your face, planting kisses all over you, his heart beating out of his chest because this had to be perfect. Before you could say anything he took your hand, getting down on one knee.

"Y/n" He kissed your hand soothingly while your lip quivered, tears already spilling down your cheeks. "Baby, I knew I wanted to be with you forever from the day I met you. You're the most precious thing in my life. I'd give anything to be able to wake up beside you every single day, to be able to hold you every single night"

"I can't even put into words how much I adore you angel, you complete my heart in a way no one else does"

"My y/n, will you marry me?"

You could hardly get any words out, your lip shaking, furiously nodding before letting out a choked sob.

"Y-yes!"

He took a ring from a little black box, slipping it onto your finger before sweeping you into his arms, his lips smashing onto yours. His arms cradled you close to him, he loved holding onto your soft curves, hi hands stroking the bare skin on your back.

You could hear the cheers from the team who joined you outside, but all you could focus on was the man in front of you, your sweet Bucky. His lips didn't leave your skin, kissing every inch he could, you were his home. His everything.

"I love you sweet girl"