#like i think it's definitely gonna go over 6k

[teddybeartoji]

okok if this thing actually gets long are u guys still gonna read it........

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

that old cliché.

you swore you’d never give in to the maid of honour and best man cliche. and then you met evan buckley.

evan buckley x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol. buck’s a filthy flirt.

word count - 6k

authors note - and so she returns!! thank you all so much for your loveliness on my post about my break - I appreciate it more than you know. this one was so much fun to write. i’ve not written any longer stuff for buck, but he’s a character I feel that I have a really good understanding of - I actually think we’re very alike - so this came so easy. hope you love it as much as I do. <3

masterlist. inbox.

Silvery melodies of laughter clink off the rim of the champagne flute you hold in your freshly manicured hand. As the gentle breeze whips through the material of your dress, you look around you, realising you’ve never seen so many people so happy at once.

The backyard of the Italian villa is packed, dozens of guests milling around - dancing, drinking, chatting and catching up. Family, friends, colleagues; people from every phase of the bride and grooms life, all celebrating together in one place.

A rocks glass is placed down onto the table in front of you with a thud. Looking up, you’re met with the sight of the best man towering over you expectantly with a drink in his hand.

“Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

You scoff, staring up at him through your lashes.

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yeah. But why?”

“It’s whiskey. I watched you grimace every time you had to drink the champagne, so I thought you’d want something different.”

You swirl the glass, listening to the tinkle of the ice against the sides.

“You were watching me, huh?”

“Of course I was. Can’t take my eyes off you in that dress.”

“Shut up,” you chide, fighting to keep the grin off your face. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“The whole best man and maid of honour thing. It’s just too cliched.”

He laughs all hearty and genuine, and you poignantly ignore the way the butterflies start fluttering in your stomach.

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, right. In your dreams, Evan.”

“Oh, you will be,” he winks, knocking his glass against yours in a quick cheers before walking off to the find the groom.

You watch him go, not completely oblivious to the way his suit fits him just right. Determined to stand your ground, you inhale a deep breath before taking a sip of your drink. The drink that definitely isn’t exactly what you needed. The drink that he’d practically read your mind to figure out. Effortlessly.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s been like this all day.

You met Evan Buckley for the first time last night, at the rehearsal dinner. The bride, your best friend in the world, kept telling you that you’d love the best man.

“He’s from California,” she’d said. “He’s Danny’s friend from when they were kids. He’s a firefighter, babe. He’s hot.”

You’d laughed it off, zipping up the back of her dress while she watched you in the mirror.

“Oh, come on. That’s so cliched. The whole maid of honour and best man thing is so old, Lucy.”

“You’re single, he’s single,” she’d protested. “It’d do you some good to get laid, relieve some stress. And people let their guards down at weddings. Now’s your chance.”

“If I wanted to get laid, I’d get laid,” you scoffed.

“All I’m saying is that Buck is completely your type. He’s gorgeous, he’s funny, he’s sweet. And you’re gonna have to spend a fair bit of time together tonight and tomorrow, so… just keep an open mind.”

“Fine,” you soothed, rolling your eyes. “Mind wide open. Alright?”

“You’re gonna love him.”

“You said that already.”

“Because I really believe it. You’re gonna love him.”

And the problem is… she was kind of right.

No, you don’t love him. You’ve known him for 48 hours. But… there’s something.

Lucy wasn’t lying. He is gorgeous, and funny, and sweet. And hot. So hot. He showed up to the rehearsal dinner in dress pants and a linen shirt, all sun kissed and muscled and tanned and stunning.

The two of you were seated next to each other, planned so carefully by the bride and groom. One minute you were making cautious introductions, shaking hands and smiling gently. The next minute you were crying with laughter, clutching at his bicep as he grabs your thigh, legs intertwined and chairs pulled together.

Lucy and Danny nudge each other occasionally, watching the both of you get along like two old friends that have known each other forever. A look passes between them that says I told you so clear as day.

But you’re stubborn. Too stubborn, some may say. You know you’ll never hear the end of it from your friends if you give into this very alluring temptation, and perhaps your pride means a bit more to you than it should. So you resist, you refuse to give in. Even if you really want to.

And that was just last night. Today has been even worse.

By worse, you mean the connection between you and Evan has grown even stronger. You walked down the aisle with him, arm linked with his, both dressed up to the nines. The maid of honour and the best man, a perfect picture.

You haven’t been able to keep your hands off each other all day. Little touches - his fingers on the small of your back, your grip on his bicep, shoulders brushing and thighs pressed together. Nothing crazy, but nothing meaningless, either. There’s an undeniable electricity buzzing between you, hot and alive.

You’re not sure how much longer you can deny it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re dancing with Lucy and her little nieces when you hear yelling and commotion coming from the other side of the dance floor. Looking over, you see Danny, Evan and other groomsmen flailing around and fussing.

“What happened?” Lucy’s yelling, making her way over with you in tow.

“Just a drink spillage, Luce! But it’s red wine, and now Buck’s shirt is pink.”

You look at the man in question and can’t help but laugh. His crisp white dress shirt is now a pretty shade of pink across the front, his cheeks a rosy colour to match.

“Stop laughing,” he chides, but he’s grinning at you as he says it. “I need to go and change. I have a spare shirt in my suitcase upstairs.”

He starts to leave, but soon turns around and calls your name.

“I don’t have a key for that big door at the end of the hallway to get to our rooms. Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s in my purse. You want it?”

“Just come with me. It’ll be easier.”

Before you can argue, he’s taken off, big strides across the garden. You have to practically run in your heels to keep up with him, shaking your head in frustration.

“I could have just given you this,” you say when you reach the door, unlocking it for him.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The smirk he gives you is so cheeky, it’s a wonder you don’t smack it off his face. Cocky bastard.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, walking with purpose to his room.

“Come in with me? It’ll only take a minute, then we can walk back together.”

You know you should say no, tell him that you’ll meet him downstairs. But you don’t. Instead, you say,

“Fine. But hurry up. I don’t wanna miss the party.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mock salutes, unlocking the door to his room that’s conveniently directly across from yours.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid watching him undress. He shrugs off his now pink shirt, taking it with him into the bathroom.

You’re surprised at how tidy everything is. Not that you think Evan would be particularly messy, but he doesn’t strike you as a neat and clean type. His suitcase is unpacked into the closet, bed made, nothing on the floor. It only makes you like him more.

“Can you grab my other shirt from the closet please, gorgeous? The one I wore last night for the rehearsal dinner.”

You swing the two doors open and rifle around, failing to see the linen button up that he’s looking for. Suddenly, you feel a warmth behind you, Buck’s solid form caging you in. He reaches around you, arm brushing yours as he finds what he needs.

“Found it,” he murmurs into your ear, all low and honeyed.

Against your better judgment, you turn around, finding yourself face to face with him. He towers over you, watching your reactions carefully. Your hands reach out and rest on his bare chest, steadying yourself before you either fall over or pass out.

Buck gently traces your bottom lip with his thumb, eyes completely locked on yours. You have to resist every urge to either bite it or suck it into your mouth, reminding yourself that now isn’t the time. The noise from the garden floats up and through the window that’s cracked open slightly, tethering you to the reality that is slowly fading away the longer you hold Evan’s gaze.

He leans in, and to your surprise, doesn’t kiss you immediately. Pressing his forehead to yours, he inhales deeply, as if committing the moment to memory. His thumbs are now tracing gentle circles on your jaw, soft and callous at the same time. You inhale slowly, processing the scent of his cologne mixed with the evening breeze. If you could bottle it up, you think, you’d be a millionaire. This would cure everything.

Buck finally closes down the gap between you, inching towards your lips softly. You shut your eyes, waiting for him to finally kiss you - when there’s deafening knocking on the door. The two of you jump apart, hearts pounding and nerves on a live wire.

Evan strides over to the source of the noise, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself as he goes. You perch on the edge of the bed, smoothing down your dress and attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“Buck? Dude, it’s Jake. Hurry up, yeah? The guys wanna do our dance routine before everyone gets too drunk to remember it.”

He doesn’t bother opening the door, just yells back through the wood.

“Yeah, sure - I’ll be down in a minute!”

You hear Jake’s footsteps retreat, both of you exhaling the breaths you didn’t know you’d been holding. Buck looks at you, worried that the moment’s been ruined, to find you stifling a laugh behind your hand.

“There’s a dance routine?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, fighting to keep the grin off his face. “We created it years ago. The guys won’t let it die.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see this.”

You’re cackling, reclining onto the duvet as you laugh.

“Stop,” he groans, jumping over to flop onto his back on the bed next to you. “I did a lot of regrettable things in college… and that routine is definitely the worst of it.”

“I hope you know that you’re never going to live this down, Buckley. I’ll be reminding you of this forever.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at you. “You really like me, huh?”

“What the hell gave you that impression?”

“You said forever. What’s next, honey? You gonna get down on one knee later?”

You’re suddenly aware of the warmth of the whiskey flowing through your veins, giving you a liquid confidence that stuns both you and the man lying next to you.

“Two knees, maybe. But not one.”

His eyes go wide as you smirk, pulling yourself off the bed and making your way over to the door. Buck watches you carefully, gaze steady and firm.

“You coming? I’m more than ready to see those moves of yours.”

He stands up, slipping on his shoes and shrugging the clean shirt onto his broad shoulders. You grab your purse, leaning against the doorframe as you wait.

Evan reaches past you for the door handle, nose purposely brushing yours as he does it.

“I’ll hold you to what you said before,” he murmurs, moving a strand of hair away from your face softly. “Don’t think I won’t.”

You look up at him with big doe eyes, like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Sure, Evan,” you reply lowly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Breaking away from him, you swing the door open, strutting down the hallway without looking back. Your confidence has sky rocketed, knowing that he wants this just as badly as you do. You walk back out to the garden and take your earlier seat, ready for the show you’ve been promised.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dance routine is spectacular.

It’s cheesy and hilarious and very early 2000s inspired - it’s almost like watching a music video from a boy band you loved when you were a teenager. It should embarrass you, turn you off majorly, but… it doesn’t. It only does the opposite.

Everything Buck does makes you like him more.

You spend the rest of the evening dancing, laughing, and floating on cloud nine. In a garden in Italy, surrounded by your best friends - you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

As the evening dwindles to an end, everyone slowly begins making their way back to their rooms within the villa. You sit down, unbuckling your heels to finally give your feet a rest. It almost feels like deja vu when a rocks glass is placed down in front of you on the table.

“Hi, Evan.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“What’s this?”

“A drink.”

“Yes, but why?”

He pulls out the chair in front of you and sits down, looking at you intently.

“Thought we could have a nightcap before we go upstairs.”

You look around to find that mostly everyone has decided to call it a day. You can see Lucy and Danny walking off hand in hand, going for a stroll around the grounds before they let the wedding officially be over. It just leaves you and Buck, sat in your original places.

“Is this Baileys?”

“Yes ma’am. Do you like it? I figured you probably wouldn’t want another whiskey, seeing as you’ve had so many.”

You scoff, trying to fight the grin that threatens to take over your face.

“I’ve had, like, four, thank you very much.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“Cheers, Evan,” you toast, clinking your glass against his matching one. “We did it. A wedding without a hitch. Mostly.”

“My shirt will never be white again, but besides that, we did a pretty good job.”

“We make a good team.”

He looks slightly taken aback by your honesty, trying to hide his smirk.

“Yes, we do. A super hot, super funny team.”

“A super hot, super funny team.”

You both laugh, heads thrown back with no cares in the world. Buck shuffles his chair forward so his legs are slotted on either side of you, warm skin radiating into yours. The moonlight is glinting off of his cheekbones, illuminating the light streaks in his hair. You’re a little tipsy and much too tired to fully fight your feelings anymore.

He’s beautiful, and you’re sick of denying it.

The two of you finish off your drinks, sat in a comfortable silence beneath the starry night sky. His hand has found its way onto your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle patterns into your bare skin. You’re sneaking glances at him when he looks away, admiring the way he’s glowing, buzzed off of the alcohol and the excitement of the day. He’s doing the same with you, soft smile etched onto his face as he watches you gaze up at the stars above your heads.

A yawn escapes you, making both of you chuckle.

“I’ll walk you to your room?”

“Well, you better. I’m the only one of us with a key for that big door.”

He laughs even harder, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I forgot about that. If you weren’t here, I’d have slept on the floor in the hallway or something.”

“Probably wouldn’t be the first time,” you mutter, standing up and tucking your chair under the table.

“Sorry, what was that? Say it again? Hmm? Hmm?” he wraps his arms around your middle, spinning you so your feet are no longer on the floor.

“Okay, okay! Put me down before I throw up,” you shriek, giggling like a teenager.

He places you back down, hands on your hips to steady you. You look up at him, keeping your eyes fixed on his to steady yourself from the dizziness. When you feel ready to go, you clear your throat, willing yourself to walk away before you kiss him stupid.

“We should go to bed,” you whisper, afraid to ruin the moment.

“Yeah?”

“Separate beds,” you tell him sternly, chuckling when he cackles.

“Yes ma’am.”

Buck walks you back to your room in a gentlemanly fashion, looping your arm through his to keep you both upright. When you reach your door, your fingers linger on the handle, as if you’re not quite ready to go inside just yet.

Reaching out gently, he moves a strand of hair from your face, fingertips brushing your cheekbone as he does it. You sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut at the sweet contact.

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmurs lowly. “Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight.”

He takes a step back towards his door when you speak again.

“Evan?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Everything, today. You’ve been a damn good best man.”

“Well, thank you. For being the best maid of honour.”

You nod, smiling like an idiot as you unlock your door and shut it behind you. You take a deep breath when you’re finally inside, throwing down your heels onto the floor and your purse onto the side table. Reaching behind you, your fingers tug at the zipper on your dress, attempting to pull it down.

It’s only now you realise your dilemma. The zipper is on an awkward place on your back, right where you can’t get to. You think quickly back to this morning - one of the bridesmaids doing the dress up for you, pulling the material taut as she fastened it. You’re not going to be able to get this off yourself.

Finding the purse that you discarded minutes earlier, you aim to find a hair clip. If you can loop a bobby pin into the zipper, you think, you might be able to pull it yourself. You root around in it for a second, before pulling out two phones.

Well, fuck.

You’d completely forgotten that Evan had given it to you earlier in the evening, worried that it was going to get broken if it stayed in his back pocket. You’d tucked it away and not thought about it again.

Until now.

Now, you’re realising that you’re going to have to go and give it back. He probably hasn’t remembered that you have it, otherwise you’re sure he’d be knocking on the door or yelling across the hallway.

You stand in the middle of your room, with two phones and a stuck zipper, wondering if the universe thinks this is funny.

You’re certainly not laughing.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Evan?”

He swings the door open, facing you in his suit trousers with no shirt on.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I have your phone.”

Holding it out to him, his fingertips brush yours as he takes it from you, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Oh, shit. I forgot about this. Thanks, pretty.”

“Of course.”

You stand and look at each other for a second, so much left unsaid.

“Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Anything.”

His instantly willingness has butterflies fluttering in your stomach, flitting and lightweight and undeniable.

“Can you help me get my dress off?”

When he smirks and goes to speak, you cut him off quickly.

“The zipper is stuck, Evan. Alice zipped me up this morning and I can’t undo it by myself.”

“This is a very long winded way of asking me to get you naked, gorgeous.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“If that’s what I wanted, I would just ask you, Buckley.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Can you help me or not?”

He’s laughing, now, head thrown back with it. You hate the way it makes your heart sing.

“You coming in? Or you want me to undress you in the hallway?”

“You’re not undressing- fuck, you’re annoying.”

He’s still chuckling when he ushers you inside, shutting the door firmly behind you both.

“How do you wanna do this? Lights on, lights off? Curtains open or shut? Music? Candles?”

“Undo the damn zipper before I smack you.”

His laughter is rumbling through his chest, contagious in its nature. You want to be angry at him, but you just can’t seem to find it in you.

“Turn around, gorgeous.”

You spin to face the door, taking a deep breath as you anticipate his touch. You feel his warmth behind you, fingertips dancing over the skin of your shoulders before they reach your zipper. You can’t see him, but you can envisage the sight - his broad chest, thick neck, that beautiful sun kissed glow he’s developed over the past few days. Your lungs heave as the room suddenly feels like it’s a thousand degrees.

Buck slides the zipper down your back slowly, with intent and clarity. When it reaches your coccyx, he stops, resting his other hand on your hip to keep you steady.

You know you should step away, maybe throw him a quick thanks as you leave. But you do believe in fate, whether you like to admit it or not - and this entire night has felt like it’s been written in the stars.

Who are you to deny what the universe is so clearly gifting you?

You let your arms relax, sighing as the dress falls off of you and down to the floor. You step out of it, finally turning around to face Buck wearing nothing but your lacy white underwear. Surprisingly, there’s not an ounce of self consciousness in your body. The only thing you feel is desire.

For the first time since you’ve met him, Evan is completely speechless. His eyes rove over you, drinking in the sight in front of him, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in awe, fingers itching to reach out and touch you. “The minute I first saw you, I couldn’t believe you were real.”

“Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“Touch me, please.”

He grins, surging forward to cup your cheek with one hand while the other finds its home on your waist.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

“Finally.”

Buck leans in and presses his lips to yours surprisingly gently, testing the waters. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him as close as possible. He gets the message, reeling you in and deepening the kiss until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

You’re being walked backwards and into the wall, pushed up against it for leverage. You hike a leg up over Bucks hip, groaning when the two of you grind forwards at the same time. His hands are everywhere - your face, tits, ass, waist - anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s not quite sure where he wants them, as if he’s worried he’ll leave somewhere untouched.

“You’re all I’ve thought about for two days,” he’s muttering into your neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin. “Driving me crazy.”

“I got myself off last night,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks at the spot under your ear. “Thinking about you.”

“Fuck,” he moans, sinking down to his knees in front of you. “Tell me more. Please.”

It’s almost biblical, the sight of him. On his knees, practically begging, looking up at you like you’re his saviour. You’re dizzy with the power, blood rushing straight to your head.

Buck presses kisses into your leg, starting at your calves and moving up. When he gets to your inner thigh, he gazes up at you, pleading with his eyes for you to continue.

“Tell me more or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them down and off.

“Okay, okay,” you pant, dropping your head back against the wall. “I, I- I couldn’t stop thinking about your arms in that shirt. The, the, the-”

You’re stuttering as he licks a stripe up your core, diving in with no hesitation. His fingers are gripping your thighs so hard you know it’ll bruise, and you can’t wait to feel the imprints in the morning.

“The?”

He’s pulled away to look at you with his brow quirked, dirty smirk etched across his face.

“Keep going, gorgeous. You haven’t even got to the good part. Neither of us have.”

You scoff at him in defiance, but slide your fingers into his hair to tug him back to where you want him.

“You looked so strong,” you continue, sighing when his tongue finds your core again. “Kept thinking about how easily you could throw me around. Pick me up, sit me on your face…”

Buck groans, all deep and rumbled, and the vibrations have your legs going weak. He doubles down on his efforts, slipping his tongue inside as his nose nudges your clit. He’s a fast learner, taking mental note of the spots and pressures that make your knees buckle.

“Keep going,” he mumbles into your core.

“You keep going,” you retort, pulling at his hair.

He chuckles but obliges your request, sucking your clit into his mouth with purpose. You’re shaking, holding onto him for dear life as you reach your climax. The moan you let out is borderline pornographic, and it has Buck palming himself over his suit trousers with a groan.

“Fuck, Evan,” you pant, chest heaving as you slump into the wall. “You need to grab me before I collapse. My legs are jelly.”

Laughing as he does it, he stands up and wraps his arms around your middle, holding you against him as tightly as he can.

“You okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Better than ever.”

He rests his lips on your forehead, both of you breathing each other in for a moment.

“Can’t believe you were right across the hallway from me, trying to be quiet while you were getting yourself off,” he murmurs, fingers running up and down your back. “You should have come over here. I would have helped you.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you tease, cupping his face in your hands. “I was still acting like I didn’t wanna rip your clothes off back then.”

“Knew you’d crack eventually,” he winks, grinning when you laugh.

You pull him into you for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, clearly telling him exactly what you want.

“You gonna fuck me, Evan? Or are we just gonna stand here all night?”

He shakes his head with a smirk before throwing you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce back off. As he starts to crawl over to you, you stop him with a foot on his chest.

“Nuh uh. You’re wearing too many clothes. Strip, Buckley.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He’s standing up immediately, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them off in one fell swoop. His boxers are next, leaving him stood bare and beautiful in front of you.

“Fuck. You’re not real,” you breathe out, eyes dancing over him.

“Oh I am so real,” he’s reassuring, situating himself on top of you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down so you can grind your hips into his.

“I’ve been waiting two days for this,” you murmur into his lips. “Make it worth my while, please.”

“Careful what you wish for,” he teases, kissing you again with such a force that you’re dizzy.

Buck sucks a bruise into your collarbone, licking a stripe up your sternum and tasting the salt that sits on your skin. Your patience is wearing thinner and thinner, anticipation bubbling up in your veins.

“How’d you want it?” he whispers into your ear.

“Just- deep. Wanna feel you for the rest of the weekend.”

He groans, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.

“Anything you want, gorgeous. I’ll give you anything you want. Anything in the world.”

His lust drunk rambling makes you giggle, wiggling your hips into his to hopefully hurry him up. You tug at his hair, pulling his face so it’s level with yours.

“Now, Evan. Can’t wait any longer. Please.”

“Fuck. You’re so pretty when you beg.”

He lines himself up, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you connect. He’s big and he’s stretching you out just right and you think you might have died and gone to heaven. You both groan, panting into each others mouths.

“Fuck, baby. It’s like you were made for me.”

The baby sends warmth running through both your core and your heart, all the signals setting your nervous system on fire.

“Please,” you whimper, kissing him with desperation as you tangle your fingers in his curls and pull. “Please, Evan.”

“I’ve got you,” he’s mumbling, pulling his hips back and sliding them forwards with clear intent.

Reaching up beside your head, Buck pulls a pillow down and situates it under your hips, putting you where he wants you.

“Want you to feel me as deep as possible,” he murmurs, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. “Won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You can only moan at the promise, praying he delivers. There’s a shiny sheen of sweat covering his sun kissed skin, making him glow in the moonlight like some sort of angel. Sent just for you.

Buck sets a steady rhythm, not too fast but just fast enough. He clearly knows what he’s doing, and you ignore the pang of jealousy in your chest at the idea of him with another woman, even in the past.

Now that you’ve had a taste of this, you don’t want to let it go.

He’s pressing kisses onto whatever skin he can reach - your neck, your collarbone, underneath your ear. His hips never cease, determined to get you both to where you need to be. When he hitches one of your legs over his waist, you can’t help but drop your head back, eyes fluttering shut at the new angle.

He tilts his hips upwards, and hits a spot that has you keening. Speech has left you, and all you can do now is take it like you were made for it.

“Right there? Yeah? That’s it, isn’t it?”

You nod frantically, sucking in a shuddering breath like you’ve been under water. Your legs have started to shake, and Buck’s grinning when he thinks about how far he can push you before you’re at your limit.

“Come on, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

You’re so close you can taste it, desperate to find this release that’s been building for the last forty eight hours. When Buck moves his hand from your hip to your throat and squeezes just slightly, you snap.

You’re coming with a breathless moan, back arching into him to plaster your fronts together.

“Shit, you look so beautiful when you come. Jesus.”

You manage a soft smile, looking up at him to see those bright eyes staring into yours. He looks entranced, as if he’s staring at a piece in an art gallery. You swipe his hair back from his sweaty forehead, teasing your thumb across his bottom lip. When he sucks it into his mouth, your jaw drops open, mind foggy with arousal.

“Think you can give me another one? Let me see you come all pretty again?” he asks around your digit, tongue laving over your skin.

“Mhmm,” you’re agreeing before you can even process it, eager to please.

“That’s my girl.”

He moves your fingers from his mouth back into his hair as his find your throat once more, applying a little pressure. His hips pick up their pace, faster and harder than before. He’s fucking you into the mattress, strong arms keeping you from sliding off the bed.

He looks breathtaking, on top of you like this. He’s so broad, towering over you like he’ll shield you from the entire world if he has to. It feels like it’s just the two of you in the whole universe, unbothered by anything or anyone else.

“Buck- I… I-”

“I know, baby. Can feel it. Atta girl.”

You pull him down to kiss you as you reach your third climax of the night, arms wrapping around his neck so every inch of you is pressed together.

“There we go, good girl. That’s it, yeah. It’s yours, baby. It’s all yours.”

Buck finally finds his release, triggered by yours. His head drops into your neck, his frantic breath tickling your skin. You murmur sweet nothings into his ear, talking him through it as he shudders and shakes. Eventually, he collapses completely onto you, body weight pinning you down.

You’re both heaving for air, lungs burning as you try to regain an ounce of composure.

He murmurs something into your shoulder, the vibrations of it rumbling through your bones.

“Hmm?”

“You called me Buck.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, silvery and melodic.

“I’ve been trying not to for two days.”

“I know. You thought you were making a point.”

“I was making a point.”

“Sure, honey. Sure.”

“I hate you,” you grumble, but you can’t wipe the grin off your face. “I also hate that we’ve just made Lucy and Danny the happiest people ever.”

“Oh, shit. I hate it when they’re right.”

He pulls his head from your neck to look at you, resting his cheek against your chest so he can gaze up and into your eyes.

“I’m sure we can keep this a secret for a little while.”

“Yeah… we can’t.”

You quirk your brow at him in a silent question.

“I told Danny I was gonna marry you the minute you walked into the rehearsal dinner in that red dress. Can’t hide how I feel about you, gorgeous. It’s physically impossible.”

You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp.

“Take me on a date first. Then we’ll talk about marriage, okay?”

“You did say forever, earlier.”

“That I did. Maybe my heart knew something my brain didn’t.”

Buck grins up at you, all blinding and giddy.

“The best man and the maid of honour, huh?”

“That old cliche,” you chuckle. “We weren’t the first, and we won’t be the last.”

“You’ll be my last, gorgeous.”

“Real smooth, Buck. Real smooth.”

“Buck,” he whispers, half in amusement, half in awe.

He could get used to this. You both could.

as always, reblogs are like gold to writers. if you enjoyed this, please reblog!! it’s invaluable <3

@peachysink @jjamjamie @alipap3 @spookyysinsanity @sophiah2253 @annaaaaanguyenn

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: Moon

< track 6 || fine.

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic), María Leon x Reader (platonic), Barcelona Femení x Reader

》 words count: +6k

》 how can I be dead to you / when we're looking at the same moon?

The second leg of the Champions League’s quarter final between Barcelona and Arsenal is scheduled ten days after the first one.

Ten days in which you do nothing but think about this game. About welcoming your former club in your new home. About the tactics and the plays that didn’t work out quite as you wished, about what to do and not do to be better.

About Alexia.

Alexia’s a constant thought, and for the first time since leaving Barcelona, you allow that thought to invade every single corner of your mind.

I hope you found what you left for

The conversation you had on your favourite spot replies over and over again in your head. Lying in your bed as you relive it all late at night or surprised by a sentence in the middle of practice, it’s always with you in some way. You let her smile pop up out of nowhere and let one of your own grow on your lips without a reason. You indulge yourself in speaking about your relationship, about her, about how you felt with her and how you feel without her.

You try to forgive yourself now you know she doesn’t hate you.

To the point you permit yourself to send a text to Eli and Alba and invite them to watch the game in the family and friends’ section of the Emirates Stadium. They obviously declined, but you didn’t expect them to actually take in your offer - it was a symbolic gesture.

However, the entire Putellas family accepts your invite out for dinner that same night, even if Alexia insists on paying since they just kicked you out of the Champions League.

“You’re my guests, I’m gonna pay”

“Vale, I’m paying next time then”, she smiles.

Despite all the analysis and the tactics and the effort the entire Arsenal team and staff put into the game, despite the immense support of the fans who fill the stadium and cheer from the start to the final whistle, you lose.

Tecnichally, you tie. Claudia manages an incredible equaliser in the eightieth minute, crushing your hopes as the harsh law of football enforces the advantage Barça needs to get through the semifinals.

Your former teammates are reluctant to come to you after the game, but you accept gracefully their hands and words of encouragement. The tension none of you realise is there dissipates as soon as Alexia invites you into a group hug, surrounding you in Blaugrana’s colours briefly before you escape with Claudia’s jersey.

“As a reminder you could be playing for another Champions League if you stayed?”

“No, as a reminder to never piss you off again”

María is unusually soft in her teasing, letting a few jabs pass by and taking you in her arms when she senses that you need a place to let go of your disappointment without getting caught by the cameras.

“No te pongas triste, nos veremos pronto” (Don’t be too sad, you will see me again soon)

“Don’t you dare ask me to be a bridesmaid or something”

“¡A la mierda!”, the defender’s laugh might be able to fill the now half empty stadium, “Pero te necesito para elegir mi traje” (But I need you around to pick my outfit).

“You still don’t know what to wear?”

“Necesito buen gusto de verdad, no puedo permitir a mi futura esposa de ayudarme” (I need someone with a real fashion sense, it’s not like I can let my future wife help me).

“Frido?”, you try to ask.

“Está de su parte” (She’s on Ingrid side)

“Alexia?”

You and María exchange a knowing look. The Catalan is the most helpful person in most situations, but definitely not the right one for this job.

You bid your goodbye with a promise of a trip back to Barcelona before the end of the season, an away kit in your hand and a plan for dinner with your ex’s family.

The atmosphere in the changing room is tense, your teammates are upset about the result and not really in the mood to talk.

“Well, we lost to them and ten days later we tie”, you manage to draw their attention to you, “next time we face them we’re gonna win”

It’s stupid, it’s a risky attempt to break the ice in the room, but the different and loud reactions you get from all the girls tell you you’re all gonna be fine - even if you have to dodge a pair of boots to prove it.

I hope you found what you left for

~

That day, that loss, somehow and in some twisted way, gives you permission to feel everything you need to feel.

You let yourself be upset about getting kicked out of the Champions League by your former team, but you also let yourself celebrate every single win with your new club. You let yourself feel the bittersweet taste of a second place in the championship, but you lift the FA Cup with the same excitement you lifted every trophy in Barcelona. You let yourself miss your teammates-turned-friends when you go each on your own ways for the off-season, but you also invite them to spend time at your place that feels every day more like home.

Leah is delighted to see more than a faded shadow of who you are, this new version of you every day more present and every day clearer.

“You know, Keira used to talk you up so much back when you played together”, she says as you try to pack everything you think you need in an oversized luggage.

You will pay the extra tax, better than being unprepared.

“I don’t meet the expectation?”

“Definitely not”, she ducks just in time to avoid a pair of socks.

“She described you as this outgoing, always up for a joke person, and we got a moody footballer who barely spoke to us outside of the training centre”

The English captain is not wrong, the first weeks in London were very challenging both physically and mentally as you tried to adapt to a different style of play and a different view of yourself.

I hope you found what you left for

It took you some time, Leah and all the other girls’ patience, an overwhelming heart to heart talk with your ex girlfriend, and a devastating loss to reveal the first results of your slow healing process.

“Look at me now”

“Yeah, I don’t have to force myself in here anymore. You even cook for me willingly”

“Well–”, you’re not as fast as her when she throws the socks back at you.

Luggage filled and closed, silence spreads in the room when both of you want to address something but you don’t want to start a conversation that’s most likely to make the other uncomfortable.

“Last meal?”

“I’m leaving for a week to Barcelona, not to a war zone”

“In some sense–”

You ignore the blonde, yet go into the kitchen to cook something for the two of you. She offered to help you pack and drive you to the airport tomorrow, the least you can do is feed her one more time before letting her on her own devices.

Alexia’s comfort meal is what you go for. The ingredients are the only ones available in your fridge, and, honestly, the food looks comforting to you too this time.

“I don’t mind this version of you”

“You’re such a good friend, Williamson, have I ever told you?”

“Several times actually”

You don’t think you are the same person you were back in Barcelona, but you don’t think that is a bad thing either.

Maybe you’re not as outgoing as you used to be and you don’t find yourself involved in all the jokes your friends plan, but you’re letting yourself relax around the people you feel close to and you don’t hide your emotions anymore - sad nor happy ones.

Not a shell anymore, you can feel this new version of you growing out and taking down the wall you built around yourself one brick at a time.

You left to find yourself, even if you had no idea where to start your search.

You keep finding some pieces you thought were lost forever, others you never realise weren’t with you anymore. Some pieces you drop along the way, others you carefully say goodbye to to be buried deep down. Some new pieces you pick up yourself, and right now, you don’t care if they will stay with you forever or just till you need them.

You’re moving and, wherever you’re heading, you’re finding yourself on the way.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Leah’s reaction to your question caught you off guard, she almost choked on the food she’s devouring as a famished kid.

“Did you just fucking ask me to be your plus one at a wedding the day before you leave for said wedding?”

“What can I say, I’m known for my perfect timing”

You hand her a glass of water, knowing she’s most likely able to see right through you even if your eyes are fixed on the now empty plate.

“Are you scared to go to your friend’s wedding alone?”

“I need a buffer”

“You need a bulletproof jacket”, she really sees right through you.

“You need a new knee but I’m not here pointing it out, am I?”

It’s not like you’re scared to attend María and Ingrid’s wedding alone, and it’s not like you need a comfort blanket to hold on while surrounded by your friends and former teammates and people from your life back in Barcelona.

“Look, I’m flattered, you’re cute at everything but—”

“Ew, no, if you don’t shut up right now I’m going to break your good knee”

Leah knows that’s not the reason why you’re asking her to be your plus one, she just wants to poke at you and get the words out of you.

It takes her a couple of more quips and annoying comments to let you admit the real reason.

“Mapi let slip Alexia’s taking someone”

“Oh, sweet little Trotter, you’re asking me to make two time Ballon d’Or winner Alexia Putellas jealous–”, she doesn’t have the time to end her sentence as you sprint toward her and she has a feeling you’re not joking anymore about kicking her.

~

Leah ends up taking you to the airport the next day, insisting to drop you off as a kid on their first day of school. You have a feeling she doesn’t accept your invitation because the short notice doesn’t give her the proper amount of time to pick the right outfit, nothing more.

Another English girl picks you up when you land under the barely raised Barcelona’s sun, you almost feel like they take turns to babysit you.

“Keira, not to sound ungrateful, but I genuinely can’t think of anything worse than being your guest”

“Ouch! Do you wanna be left on the side of the road?”

“I’ll be fine in my fancy hotel room by myself, really”

“By yourself, uhm?”

The seatbelt is the only thing preventing you from hitting your head on the dashboard, despite your best effort. Of course they gossip about you. Whatever you tell Leah, you know it’s like you tell Keira too and vice versa. You even found yourself in the middle of one of they’re gossip sessions once, your life is their favourite topic lately.

They’re lucky you can admit you own them your sanity.

“I don’t know who she’s bringing”

“I didn’t ask”, you scoff as if the question isn’t on the tip of your tongue for weeks.

Well, you’re gonna find out in a couple of hours anyway.

Keira reluctantly drops you at the hotel you’re staying at, voicing once more you could have stayed with her or any of your other friends who she knows offered their home.

Your former teammates are way nicer with you now they’re once again Champions League winners.

Maybe it’s also because you stopped hide and actually made an effort to stay in touch.

Both can be true.

Once settled in your room and ready to leave, you’re so anxious one could think you’re the one getting married as you retouch your makeup every five minutes and keep fixing non-existent creases in your maroon strapless dress. It’s a beautiful tailor-made piece you never found the excuse to wear till now.

It’s a call from María herself that stops you from spiralling again about the shape of your eyebrows.

“If this is a getaway call, you must know I have no car nor intention of helping you”

“Idiota! Dónde estás?” (Where are you?), she asks with a well hidden note of anxiety in her voice.

“I’m not gonna be late and take the spotlight away from you, don’t worry”

“¿Puedes venir aquí por favor?” (Can you come here, please?)

“María, I’m gonna kill you”, you state, sliding your heels on with one hand and calling the reception to hail a taxi with the other.

You stay with her on the phone the whole ride to the venue, thankfully just ten minutes away since you planned this visit meticulously to avoid any “accident”.

You definitely didn’t plan this though.

As you storm into the room your friend tells you to find her, you should have seen it coming.

“If you need a getaway car or a pep talk, you know I’m not the right person”

“¿No tienes un discurso para convencerme de casarme?” (You don’t have a speech to convince me to get married?)

“You don’t need a speech”

“Ay, no, no lo necesito” (No, I don’t), she confirmed as you take in the grin and the attire she’s wearing, “Pero tu sí” (But you do).

María is relaxed and ready to walk down the aisle, saying goodbye to who you think is the makeup and hair team. You could have punched her if not out of respect for the incredible job they did. Just then you notice all the people in the room, Alexia in the corner with a sympathetic smile on her perfectly traced lips.

She’s stunning.

The long royal blue dress she’s wearing shows just the right amount of tanned skin, gold jewellery complimenting her features and making Alexia glow in a way you will never forget.

“I told her it was a stupid idea”

You must have been frozen in place for a second too much.

“Quiero que te levantes y digas cosas bonitas, Nena” (I want you to stand up at some point to tell some nice things)

“Just ask like a fucking normal person, María!”

“Lo hice, dijiste que no” (I did, you said no)

“So you made me think you wanted to ditch the whole thing?”

“Estás aquí temprano, ¿no? Tienes tiempo de escribir un buen discurso” (You’re here early, aren’t you? You have time to write something good)

The relaxing methods your new therapist drilled into you the past weeks better work, you’re really close to making your friend get married with a black eye as payback for the heart attack she got you.

“You’re so lucky I love you”, you sigh as the defender kisses your cheek and leads the way out of the room.

Apparently, you better hurry up as your outbursts pushed the schedule five minutes back what it’s supposed to - much to the wedding planner’s annoyance.

Alexia slows down her pace to walk next to you as you follow the indications given to you.

“Finally”

“What?”

“I can finally see you in this dress”, her smile is way too honest for the day you’re both about to go through, “Worth the wait”.

-

The ceremony is short and sweet. You’re not sure how María Pilar León manages to stay still for so long, but Ingrid’s hand intertwined with hers the entire time must be the main reason.

There’s some sort of light surrendering your friends. It may be the stunning yet intimate venue they choose or the Barcelona sun hitting at the perfect moment as they smile at each other. It may be the love you can feel radiating from the couple or the support and genuine excitement all the people in the room are sharing for the occasion.

Whatever it is, you’re happy to be part of it.

María and Ingrid exchange their vows with tender words and silent promises you know they’re making to each other. At some point you even have to hold on Frido’s arm, sit on your left side, as you start to cry big tears that are most definitely ruining your makeup.

Feeling Alexia’s eyes on you the entire time is not helping.

You have no idea that the wedding photographer is snapping a couple of pictures of you and the other guests in their emotional state, as per Mapi’s request. It surprises you way later when the Spanish defender posts the photo on her socials on your birthday - you block her for a month just to spite her.

When the sun sets and you manage to compose yourself a bit, the party starts and Ingrid takes it upon herself to make you lose your composure, handing you the first drink of the day.

You’re pretty sure the wedding planner hates you as he finds out you’re not only the reason why arranging seats and tables was so unnecessarily difficult, but he also has to brief you at the last minute about the little moments they planned and when you’re supposed to make your speech.

You know for sure he hates you when you tell him you actually still have to write it down so a delay in the schedule is needed. He leaves you with some paper, pen and cursed words.

It looks like everyone wants to talk to you and you find yourself the centre of attention way more times you’re comfortable with, even more than the newlyweds - much to their amusement.

A lifesaver comes in the form of Lucy Bronze, the buffer you didn’t know you needed, but you’re glad is around to help you deal with the Spanish excitement that surrounds you all over.

The English girl, who you now understand is the bonus member of the blonde squad that for some reason hunts you, is acting as your personal bodyguard since Keira is already not sober enough to be helpful.

“Please, tell me you wrote your speech”, Lucy’s eyeing your second refill of the day.

It’s an open bar, after all, you’re not letting María’s mother warm embrace and some girl you don’t remember the name of - but met maybe twice while celebrating a trophy’s win - messing with your mind more than what you’re already doing by yourself.

“I wrote a complaint and a draw of a monkey throwing shit”

“Classy, I can’t wait to see what you’ll go for”

“I told María fucking Engen-León not making me do a fucking speech”

Pages of scribbled words later, you’re back in Barcelona for your best friends’ wedding with no speech, no idea of what you’ll say and not sober enough to write down anything nice about a certain defender.

“Language, por favor”

You almost drop your glass when you feel Alexia’s hand on your back to get your attention and a teasing grin on her face. The desire to trace her lips with your finger is stronger now the first drinks are hitting.

“She can still scold you?”

“You have no idea the things she can still do to me, Bronze”, you mutter as you practically bottom down your drink.

“Can I steal you for a moment?”, she asks with a softer smile.

“I’m pretty sure the words were–”

Lucy doesn’t have time to finish her sentence as both you Alexia hit her without taking your eyes off each other. She gets the hint and leaves with a laugh.

“My date wants to say hi”

You’re pretty sure her words just triggered a malfunction in your already damaged brain. You could have been less shocked if she had asked to marry her right now and there.

“What?”

“Vien conmigo” (Just come with me)

Alexia is way too amused for your liking, but you follow her lead without real hesitation - leaving behind your empty glass and probably what’s left of your sanity.

As the two of you approach the table her family is sitting at, her hand finds a place on your back in a comforting way when you spot Eli, Alba and another tiny brunette you immediately know is about to make you cry.

The kid is too focused on her drawing to notice the two approaching, Alba nudges her, and the little girl retorts back with a hit. As soon as you are spotted, the colourful paper and the annoying woman are both forgotten.

Alexia’s little cousin, Zoe, comes at you at full speed and you’re able to welcome her into your arms fast enough just thanks to your professional athlete’s reflexes.

You hold on to her green dress as the girl jumps in your arms, too excited to see you again after more than a year to realise she’s speaking rapidly at you.

“En español, monita, por favor”, Alexia intercepts.

“¡Estás aquí!” (You’re here)

“Yeah, estoy aquí”

Alexia can’t hold back a laugh as you try to keep up with the little girl’s energy, who is set to tell you everything she has done since the last time she saw you. You were around when Zoe was barely old enough to walk properly.

Four years is a long time when you’re as young as the kid is.

The two of you were a pair who always managed to drive Alexia crazy and fill her heart with love at the same time.

“Ale me dijo que ya no vivis juntos, ahora tu juegas para Inglaterra” (Ale told me you don’t live together anymore, you play for England now)

“Juego para un equipo inglés” (I play for an english club)

“¡El equipo rojo! Pregunté Ale tu camiseta” (The red one! I asked Ale for your jersey)

“¡Ay, ¿de verdad?!” (Oh, did you really?), you notice Alexia’s blush immediately, keeping up the teasing thanks to the little girl.

You manage to calm Zoe enough to make her sit back. She’s mostly on your legs as the two of you keep talking and taking turns picking colours. All under the watchful sight of Alexia, who was instructed to sit down too by her cousin.

When the draw is finished and signed, you can feel the young mind running. The little frown in the middle of the forehead is a sight you’re way too familiar with.

“Qué está pensando, monita?” (What’s on your mind?)

“¿Estás de vuelta?” (You’re back in Barcelona?)

Alexia tries to divert the conversation, sensing her cousin is about to ask or say some things that are way too difficult to explain - despite being such easy questions. However, you smile and nod to let her know you can deal with it.

“He vuelto para Mapi’s boda y podemos celebrarlo juntos” (I’m back for Mapi’s wedding, so we can celebrate together)

“Lo sé, Ale me dijo que estarías aquí y quería saludarte” (I know, Ale told me you could be back and I wanted to say hi)

“Siento haber desaparecido, intentaré venir saludar más” (I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ll try to come say hi more when I can)

“¿Prometes?” (You promise?), Zoe holds up a tiny finger, mimicking a gesture you taught her years ago.

You wrap your pinky around hers firmly, shaking it three times. It’s another promise you’re not going to break.

“Tienes que prometerlo a Ale también, ella te echa de menos” (You have to promise Ale too, she miss you)

“Lo sé” (I know)

The way Zoe is tracing coloured lines around her drawing is a tell that she still has a lot of questions for you, probably not satisfied enough with the answers she got from Alexia.

The pair of you spent a lot of time with the kid as you always encouraged the Catalan to spend as much time as possible with her extended family too, knowing it pained her to have a little cousin who looks up at her with such admiration but not actually seeing her much.

Also, babysitting Zoe was so fun for you and an excuse to tease Alexia in so many ways you took the chance on any possible occasion.

“¿Aún la amas?” (You still love her?)

The chair you’re sitting in is strong enough to keep you still even if the entire room is spiralling, and you’re pretty sure there’s a huge hole under your expensive heels. You caught Alexia’s panicked face out of the corner of your eye too.

It takes you a moment, but when you answer Zoe’s question you’re the most sure you have ever been in the past year or so.

“Siempre la amaré” (I’ll always love her)

~

Ironically enough, the wedding planner is the one saving you from yourself and the innocent questioning of a kid.

You stand in your designated spot with a microphone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other - blank if not for the doodles you let Zoe draw on it. You will play the part, props at all.

There may be no speech planned or intention to do one in the first place, but you know what to talk about when talking about love.

After a short introduction of who you are - even if almost everyone knows you for some reason or other - and a couple of football related jokes, you manage to buy yourself enough time to find a pair of soft eyes in the crowd.

You saw María and Ingrid growing a supportive and caring relationship, you know both of them enough to describe how wonderful their love is and even landing some good jokes on Mapi’s expenses.

You know how being in love feels like enough to get some people emotional, you know how being loved feels like enough to make some other cry.

“Finally, I would like to propose a toast”, you raise your glass and wink at the wedding planner - he may have had a heart attack during a questionable part of your speech, but you definitely saw him shed a tear or two at the end.

“To Ingrid, who is one of the thoughtful human beings I have the honour to look up to in my life. You don’t even need words to let people understand your love for them, it’s the most important thing you taught us and the one I’ll try the most to remember when my mind and my mouth will fighting against each other”

The Norwegian woman looks at you with a warm smile as she raises her own glass, reaching for her wife’s hand.

“To María, who is one of the most annoying human beings I have the privilege to call family. You taught us that everyone deserves to be respected and taken care of, that you don’t even need to know someone to make them feel welcome. I’ll never forget you proved it to me the very first day we met, and I’ll keep trying to grant myself the same care you unconditionally show me”

Your friend is crying as you smile at her, trying to let her understand how much you appreciate everything she did and does for you, how much you appreciate her firm support despite her opinion on your choices.

“To everyone here, who is witnessing a celebration of love that’s never going to fade as we’ll keep it alive”

Alexia’s eyes on you make you believe your own words more than anything else.

~

As the night progresses, most of the guests are gone. The ones still standing are the closest to the couple and the ones who managed to take the most advantage of the open bar.

You’re obviously among those.

The break from dancing you treat yourself with is filled with rapid words from Ona, Lucy, Aitana and Keira, all engaged in a conversation about your performance at Arsenal and how you can do better next season.

It’s not really talk shop as they’re making fun of you and the unfortunate episode that saw you tripping on the ball while attempting a quite impressive shot outside the box.

You found your footing and the back of the net shortly after, so their amusing is quite frankly unnecessary if you can say yourself.

“Mary let that ball pass ‘cause she was laughing so much, that’s all”

“Fuck you, Bronze!”

“She’s right, I saved the video and I watch it every time I miss you”

“You’re worse than Mapi”, you don’t dignify Keira with an answer as you leave the group to refill your drink.

“Lo siento en mi corazón cuando hablas de mi” (I can feel in my heart when you’re talking about me)

Out of nowhere, María appears in front of you, and as the magician she apparently is tonight, it makes your glass disappear, all while dragging you toward the bubble of loud dancing guests.

You could be mad at her if not for the genuine laughs that are surrounding you, making you miss those girls but convincing you to enjoy this occasion even more.

“Gracias por hoy, Nena” (Thank you for today)

“Estoy tan feliz por ti” (I’m so happy for you)

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the beautiful day you’re having or the fact your best friends just got married and you couldn’t be happier for them, but you sense this is an emotional moment for the two of you.

The Spaniard holds you in her arms firmly, whispering barely loud enough for you to hear, “I want you to be happy too”

“I’m getting there”

The moment ends when the soft smiles on both your faces turn into grins and then open laughs as you start getting loose around all your friends.

You accept Jana’s hand gracefully as she drags you between her and Claudia, the two dancing as no one is watching and taking you down in a mindless movement of arms and hair.

“Still no rhythm at all”

You’re sure you’re drunk enough to imagine Alexia’s hands on your waist as she gets closer to make fun of you.

To be fair, out of the two of you, the Catalan is the one with the worst moves. She is just lucky to be incredibly sexy as she dances.

“You were sober enough to remember that night out after our first Champions League”

“¡Ajá, cállate! Someone tripped me”

“Yeah, your own feet”

The music is loud and the bodies around move in a way that you have to stay basically pressed on her to keep the teasing conversation going.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you grip her arm to let a carefree laugh out.

“You were sober enough to kiss me that same night, what does that say about you?”

“That I have the worst timing ever!”

You mean nothing but the truth, Alexia knows and she keeps you close despite your friends trying to involve you in a group dance - the two of you too wrapped in your own bubble to notice.

Keira does though and she openly calls you out on your behaviour, reminding you this may not be the best time or place to dance with your ex girlfriend as this is your own wedding.

~

The party slows down late in the evening, the last guests bidding their goodbyes and congratulating the happy couple once again.

You’re next to María as she hugs Alba - Eli and Zoe declared the night over a while ago. The defender’s hair is messed up, and a thin sheet of sweat from the dancing and the emotion of the day is covering her forehead. She never looked better.

“When are you leaving?”, the younger girl asks when is your turn to hug her.

“I’ll stay for a couple of days, I planned the off-season under the Italian sun”

“¡Vale!, you can come at dinner one of those”

“I’ll see what I can do”, you smile as you lightly push Alba and her knowing smirk away.

When you admit the day is officially over for you too, María and Ingrid both wrap you in a tight embrace to shower you with kisses and rapid words of gratitude in three different languages you’re way too tired to even try to understand.

At least you can tell they’re happy about your speech.

“I can take you to your hotel”

“You keep offering me rides, you sure you’re not thinking of a career change?”

“I don’t see myself getting a taxi license anytime soon”, Alexia’s attempt at a serious tone is making you giggle way too much for such a simple joke.

The walk toward her car is a silent one and it doesn’t turn uncomfortable when you get cosy in the passenger seat, taking your heels off with a sigh of relief.

The Catalan smiles as she remembers you tend to drop your manners when happily exhausted.

You look at her changing her shoes, a pair of sneakers always in the car for a safe ride, and you keep your eyes on her as she connects her phone to select a playlist.

It’s a ten minute ride at best, but she has not asked where you’re staying, and you’re too curious to find out what she’s planning to point it out.

You’re content and tired enough to admit every minute more you get to spend with Alexia is a win in your book.

She’s the one breaking the silence, turning the volume down a bit and keeping her gaze on the street even if the traffic light in front of you is glowing her features bright red.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with Zoe”

“I was happy to see her again, she’s getting so tall”

“Yeah”

“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)

Leaving Barcelona meant leaving Alexia, but it was your choice.

And it was your choice to leave every single one who reminds you of her too. Ignoring your friends and finding excuses to not face the consequences of your disappearing. Avoiding Eli and Alba’s calls, too ashamed of the pain you inflicted on the most important person in their life.

It was all your choice.

“We broke up, I didn’t expect you to keep in touch with my family”

“You didn’t expect me to break up with you in the first place”

Alexia turns to look at you for the first time since the ride started, no one behind you calling out to move as the light turns from red to green to red again.

“I can be held accountable for my own choices, Alexia”, you nod at her as she restarts the car to a still unknown destination.

“I was honest with Zoe”

“Lo sé”

“Tú eres mi corazón, te amaré por siempre” (You’re my heart, I will always love you)

“Lo sé”

A full moon high in the dark sky, the view from your windows is getting unfamiliar, but the woman next to you seems to know exactly where she’s going. The pace she’s keeping is slow enough to calm your nerves but fast enough to keep you awake.

There are so many things you want to say, so many useless apologies and unnecessary confessions on the tip of your tongue.

It could be so much easier if she’d hate you.

“I knew you would leave”

“What?”

“I knew you would leave, I knew you found the ring”

Her words manage to steal the breath from your lungs and stop the rhythm of your heart, you go from feeling nothing to everything in a split second. The music is suddenly too loud, the fancy car is crushing on you, and your own body is failing to respond to your commands.

Alexia immediately notices your distress, stopping on the side of the road and lowering your window to let the fresh night air hit your face. She wants to touch you, to ground you as she learned to do, but she’s aware she may make things worse.

You reach for her hand, holding on to her as a lifeline and she does everything she needs to to take you back.

“Sorry, I didn’t see that coming”, you say when you’re ready to think properly again, your attempt to joke landing just because Alexia knows you well enough to understand what you need right now.

“Yo–”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“¿Por qué no lo hiciste tú?” (Why didn’t you?)

The million dollar question, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you let her know? Why didn’t you just talk with her about your feelings and your fears?

You pay your therapist enough to answer those questions for you.

“I don’t think it could have changed anything”

“You couldn’t know”

“And I’ll never, it’s all done now”

You need her to hate you, you need her to hate you and not want to do anything with you ever again.

You need her to leave you.

Not like you left Barcelona, you need her to leave you behind and move on. It’d be so much easier.

Instead, you’re both moving on and you both are still moving in the same direction.

“You would have said sí”, it’s not a question.

“Of course”

You realise you’re still holding on to her just when the Catalan squeezes your hand three times, keeping you grounded and keeping herself together. Your confirmation is both unnecessary and needed, hurting and comforting.

“I want you to love yourself as much as I do”

“I’m trying”

It’s a whisper, it’s a confession you’re not sure you’re ready to hear yourself.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready”

“Alexia, no–”

“Sí”, she drops your hand just to firmly hold your face, guiding your gaze and your tears filled eyes on hers, “I’ll be here when you’re ready, here in Barcelona or wherever here will mean for us”

“I can’t ask you that”

“You’re not asking”

Tears are falling freely now, her thumb tracing your flushed cheeks and your fists holding desperately on her dress. The position you both are in is uncomfortable, the air from the open window tickles your neck, and Alexia’s honesty is crushing your heart, but you never felt better.

“I know you could do whatever I ask, stay in Barcelona or marry me. I need you to know I could do whatever you ask too”

“Then we’re stuck”

“No, we’re both moving”

“You wanna see where we end up?”

“Wherever it will be, we’ll find each other”

replay to start from track 1 >

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.9

Chapter Summary: Joel nurses you back to health and you come to a startling realization about your future together.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of some injuries, fluff, protective Joel, soft Joel, little bit of angst, lots of feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

After arriving back in Jackson, you ended up spending nearly three weeks in the infirmary. Your injuries were worse than you thought. From what you could remember, Bill said you had some internal damage along with several fractures and sprains. The cut in your leg was infected, but fortunately Eugene's group did manage to successfully trade for the rest of the antibiotics before everything happened in Salt Lake City.

You ended up sleeping quite a bit in those weeks, but Ellie told you later that Joel hardly ever left your side. She had said she would get into arguments with him, trying to convince him to take turns at your bedside so he could go home and rest, but he refused.

"I don't know which one of you is more stubborn - you or him," Bill mumbled to you as he gently removed the IV from your arm. You chuckled, your eyes finding his broad form outside your bedroom talking quietly with Tommy, just out of earshot.

"Definitely him."

You were grateful Bill let you go home, but he insisted on doing house visits twice a day until you were on your feet. Most of your superficial wounds had healed but you were still very tired and weak. Bill could see improvement every day, and he said that's all that mattered.

On his way out, Bill stopped to check in with Joel, no doubt updating him on your condition and any medicine he would have to administer for you. You watched his face as he listened intently, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the bottles Bill handed him. You had to stifle a giggle when you saw him squint at the label and hold it further away from his face.

While Joel and Bill continued to talk, Tommy slipped past them and into your room, giving you a grin as he plopped down in the chair next to your bed.

"Lookin' good," he said, making you laugh and then wince, gingerly touching your ribs.

"Liar," you said, and he chuckled, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the scabs and yellow bruises with a sigh.

"Just wanna let you know, we cut off all trades with 'em," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"I figured. I know they had a lot of things we could use - "

"We'll find those things somewhere else. Not worth it," he said, cutting you off.

You nodded and cast your gaze to the side.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he replied, tapping his foot on the floor. "Maria said she was gonna stop by later after work, you think you're up for it?"

"Yeah, of course," you said, although you honestly couldn't tell these days. It seemed like you fell asleep at the drop of a hat.

"How's Ellie?" you asked him. Whenever you asked Joel, he frustratingly just gave you the most basic information. She's fine. She's in school. Think I saw her with a couple girls the other day.

"She's adjusting real good. She's been stayin' with Julia, but I'm not sure it's a permanent solution for either of them." He eyed you carefully as your gaze drifted over his shoulder at Joel, who was walking Bill down the steps to the front door. "You got any ideas?"

"Me?" you asked, looking back to him now and raising your eyebrows in surprise. You knew what he was implying, and he just nodded.

"I would love it if she wanted to stay here, but I'm pretty sure Joel wouldn't like that, and I really don't want to push him right now. He's so stressed, Tommy. I can see it in his eyes. He's not sleeping well, and I'm worried about his blood pressure -"

"Have you talked to him about it? About the kid?" Tommy asked, and you shook your head.

"No, but he made his feelings pretty well known when she first got here."

"Lots happened since then. He might surprise you," Tommy said, standing up with a grunt. You frowned and opened your mouth to question him further when Joel walked through the door, his gaze falling on his brother.

"Just headin' out, don't worry, I know she needs her rest," Tommy said, sneaking you a wink as he headed towards the door. You thanked him for visiting and listened to them walk down the stairs, their voices fading the further they got until the door closed and all that was left was Joel's heavy footsteps slowly coming back up. He reached the door and leaned against the frame as he gave you a small smile, but you could see how exhausted he was. His eyes looked bloodshot and his shoulders sagged.

"Come here," you whispered, and he quickly pushed off the wall to come to your side.

"What'dya need, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing at the cup next to your bed, making sure it was still filled with water. "Hungry?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, but he looked at his watch and mentally did the math.

"You'll have to eat somethin' soon with your meds, what can I make you?" he asked, and you shook your head again.

"Can you please just lay with me for a while?"

He hesitated but you reached out to drag your fingertips against his wrist, urging him closer to the bed, and he gave in.

"Alright, only for a few minutes," he said, rounding the end of the bed and collapsing onto the covers with a groan, sliding his eyes closed in relief.

"I wish you'd rest more," you murmured after you gingerly rolled yourself onto your side so you could look at him. "I'm worried about you."

He chuckled and turned his head to the side to look at you in disbelief.

"You're worried about me? You're jokin', right?"

You reached out to lightly brush a stray curl away from his eyes, choosing not to reply. You knew it would be a losing battle anyway.

"Can't rest," he said, staring at you with his eyes all soft. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to rest again."

"Why?" you asked, your brow furrowing.

He shook his head, his eyes still pinned on yours and you watched them slowly fill with tears. You gave him a look of concern and inched a bit closer to cup his face, the pad of your thumb swiping over his rough beard as you waited for him to open up.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice thick as he tried to hold back his tears. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault -"

"I keep lettin' you down. Over and over again," he continued, a tear slipping down his cheek. "And I just wanna tell you that I understand now. 'Bout all of it. Why you're so scared 'bout havin' a family or gettin' married. And it's fine, I won't bring it up again, alright?"

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" you asked, searching his face for answers.

"I can't - " he paused and took a deep breath before trying again. "I can't take care of us. I thought I could but it's clear I can't when all this bad shit keeps happenin'. But if you'll still have me, I'll be right here, okay? I'll take whatever you wanna give me, I don't care 'bout any of that other shit anymore. I just want you."

"Slow down," you said, trying to wrap your fatigued mind around what he was saying. Your grip on his jaw tightened before you continued. "You never let me down, do you understand me? You are the only fucking thing that kept me going the past few years. Without you, I would be dead. I would have died that very first day. I owe you my life, Joel. How do you not see that?"

He just shook his head, refusing to accept what you were saying, so you kept going.

"I should have just been honest with you, but it took me a while to figure out why I was so scared about - "

"You don't need to explain - "

"Let me finish," you said, and he clamped his mouth shut. "It's not you, Joel. Well, it is. But not for the reason you think."

He frowned, blinking back tears as he waited for you to continue.

"It's because I love you so much that it scares me." You could feel your own tears forming now, but you tried to push through. "If something were to happen to you out there and I was left all alone, I don't know how I could go on." You swiped away a few tears that fell as you spoke. "And I'm terrified of getting married because if you die, that day will haunt me, Joel. Every single year when the anniversary comes, I - "

You stopped for a moment, your breaths coming in short gasps. He tried to shush you and pull you closer, but you shook your head.

"I'm not strong enough," you finished with a small sob. This time, you let him pull you into his chest while his big hands cradled the back of your head, patting down your hair, soothing you.

"Does that make sense?" you blubbered, pulling back to look at him.

He nodded slowly, his eyes raking down your face.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Thought I wasn't gonna get you back after they took you. Thought I lost you forever."

The two of you sat in silence for a minute, lost in each other's eyes, the truth finally spoken and swirling around the quiet room as you both clung to the other, just grateful to be alive.

"But you did get me back," you finally said, breaking the silence. "You did that. You saved me. Again." You ran your finger gently over his bottom lip and he gave the tip of your finger a little kiss.

"You might think you can't keep me safe, but in reality, you are the only reason I'm still here." The puzzle was finally piecing together in your mind as you spoke.

"That's not true," he said immediately. "Every situation that's put you at risk could've been avoided if I had protected you more. I wouldn't have to save you if I didn't put you in harm's way in the first place."

"But this is the world we live in, Joel. None of us will ever truly be safe ever again. And it's not because of something you did. It's just a really shitty hand we were all dealt and now we have to figure out a way to make the most of it and survive." You paused for a moment, something in your brain finally clicking as the words came tumbling out.

"We can't let fear run our lives," you said softly.

He looked at you, your gaze fixed on the wall behind him as what Maria said so long ago finally made sense. It was like you were seeing through the fog. Like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you could breathe deeply for the very first time.

It took you and Joel to finally have a raw and honest conversation, but you thought you understood what she meant now.

"You okay?" Joel asked, clearly confused. You let your gaze fall back to him and you grinned.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly, then tugged him forward so you could press your lips against his, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to hold him against you.

You weren't afraid anymore.

A few days later, you woke up to the sound of the front door downstairs swinging shut. Your eyes snapped open and you strained your ears, trying to listen to the muffled words through the closed bedroom door.

"Told ya to be quiet, she's tryin' to sleep," you heard Joel say.

"Sorry, the fucking wind took the door from me and this stupid backpack is so heavy. Why do I even need to go to school? Who cares about this stuff anymore?"

"I do, 'cause it keeps you out of trouble and outta my hair."

"Ha, yeah right. You know both those things are impossible, old man," you heard Ellie scoff.

"How the hell old do you think I am?"

"The way you can barely read the instructions on the back of that pasta box? You don't want me to answer that."

You grinned as you listened to the two of them bicker amongst themselves. You weren't sure when it happened, but at some point in the past several weeks, Joel and Ellie finally seemed to have a breakthrough in their relationship. You wanted to ask, but you didn't want to draw attention to it. The two of them were so alike in so many ways that you knew if you pointed it out, they would pull back and stop making progress. So in the meantime, you just enjoyed listening and watching them whenever you got the chance.

With a small grunt, you pushed yourself off the mattress and swung your legs over the side of the bed, taking a moment to catch your breath before reaching out and using the end table to support your weight so you could stand. Walking was getting easier; the worst part was still the healing gash in your thigh. Bill said the knife one of Amy's men used must have cut through some muscle, so you were slowly building your strength back up by taking very short walks around your bedroom every day.

With small, careful steps, you managed to get to your bedroom door and open it quietly, listening to Ellie helping Joel make spaghetti in the kitchen while she told him about her day. You stopped at the top of the stairs and peered down.

"Ellie?" you called out softly.

You heard a spoon clatter on the counter and Joel's heavy footsteps jog to the foot of the stairs. He looked up at you with a towel in his hand, worry etched across his face. Ellie quickly joined him and looked up at you with a grin.

"What's wrong? Why're you up?" Joel asked, taking the steps two at a time.

"Nothing!" you said with a smile as he reached the top and wrapped an arm around you gently to help steady you. "I just wanted to see Ellie."

"I thought you were asleep," she said, bounding up the stairs.

"C'mon, let's get back to bed," Joel urged. You sighed and allowed him to lead you back to the bedroom, but you chose to sit on the edge of the bed instead of getting back under the covers like he clearly wanted you to do.

"Come on, tell me what's going on out there. Joel's not much of a gossip," you told Ellie with a wink, and Joel huffed somewhere behind you, fixing the sheets.

"Well, Maria wants to get married the second you're back on your feet. Says she wants to do it before she starts showing," Ellie started, and you felt the mattress dip with Joel's weight next to you.

"Yeah, she told me that already. What else? How's school?"

"It's alright. I met a few girls, we hang out sometimes."

"That's great!" you told her, happy that she was acclimating well. "How's Julia?"

Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes at the mention of the older school teacher who graciously let her live with her.

"She's nice, but she's just got such strict rules. I've gotten into it with her a couple times when I was late for curfew," Ellie admitted, looking down at her fingers twisting in her lap.

"It's important that you listen to her, y'know. She's just lookin' out for you," Joel said softly, and you had to tuck your chin against your chest to hide your smile. He was so sweet with her now, like he had known her his whole life, and it took some time getting used to hearing it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ellie said sullenly. "I just get so bored. She spends her evenings planning her lessons or knitting. Knitting! It's so quiet over there, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."

"Well, why don't you move in with us?" Joel asked with a shrug. Both you and Ellie froze, your eyes widened in shock. You slowly turned your head to the side to look at him, unable to form words.

"What?" he asked, swiveling his head back and forth when neither of you said anything.

You were about to respond when Ellie jumped up excitedly, about to wrap her arms around Joel's shoulders, then stopped herself.

"Really? Can I?" Her eyes darted between you both, a huge grin plastered across her face.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly with a nod. "Yeah, of course you can." You tried your best to blink back the tears that were quickly forming.

The three of you heard some hissing coming from downstairs and Joel leapt up, muttering about the water for the pasta as he clattered quickly down the steps, leaving just you and Ellie.

"Holy shit," she said, still grinning.

"Uh, yeah, 'holy shit' is right," you said with a chuckle.

"You didn't have anything to do with that?"

"Me? Nope," you said, quickly shaking your head. "Although it was on my mind, I just never found the right time to talk to him about it."

"Wow," she muttered, sitting on the bed next to you. "Guess he doesn't hate me, after all."

"Told you," you said, nudging her shoulder with your own.

You sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought while you listened to Joel muttering to himself in the kitchen. A smile played across your lips at the sheer domesticity of it. A feeling that you never thought you would get to experience just fell into your lap when you least expected it.

"I never got a chance to ask," you began, and Ellie turned her attention back towards you. "Does anyone else know?"

She shook her head.

"When you were passed out in the truck on the way back, Joel told me he had to tell Tommy and Maria but then he got so distracted with you at the infirmary that I guess he never got around to it."

You hummed and nodded, wondering if Joel truly forgot or if he changed his mind. Either way, you knew it would have to come out some day, but you had hoped it would be on Ellie's terms.

"And what did he tell Tommy? About the Fireflies?"

"The truth. Well, mostly. Just left out a few things. He told him they were working on a vaccine and that they kidnapped you, obviously."

"But how did he explain why they took me without telling him they really wanted you?" you asked, your pain killers making it tough to keep up.

"I told them they took people to experiment on," she said. "I thought that's what they were doing, anyway, at first."

You chewed your lip for a moment, eager to learn more but careful about pushing her too far.

"How did you guys find me?" you finally asked. You had tried to get the story out of Joel multiple times already, but he kept dodging the question, and the curiosity was getting the best of you.

Ellie's body stiffened next to you. She straightened her back as she took a sharp inhale of breath.

"He didn't tell you?"

You just shook your head slowly.

"Well, we, uh, went back to my aunt and uncle's house," she said, dropping her eyes to her lap. "He figured out they were the ones who called the Fireflies to come take you. Or, I guess me, but whatever."

"Oh," you said softly. You hadn't expected Ellie to know about any of that.

"It's alright, Joel told me after you were taken. That you thought they might've sold me off," she said, as if reading your mind.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry," you said, but she just shook her head.

"It's fine," she said, but you could see in her face she was hurt. After a moment, she added "it worked out in the end, right? I found you guys."

You gave her a tight smile as you felt the swell of emotions rising up your chest, squeezing your throat. You cared for Ellie so deeply that you were almost inclined to agree with her. Even though you were just as happy to have her in your lives, it still made you sick to think about what she had to endure to get there.

Then, you realized Ellie never elaborated about their return visit. You glanced over at her and wanted to ask, but decided against it. She looked upset enough, and if it was anything like you saw at the hospital, you preferred not to bring it up.

Joel startled you both by appearing silently in the doorframe.

"You girls ready to eat?"

Girls. The way he said it warmed your heart.

"So long as you didn't burn it," Ellie said teasingly as she stood up from the bed. "I'll bring some up for you," she said to you over your shoulder as she headed down the stairs.

"C'mon, lemme help you get back in bed and I'll get your tray," Joel said, but instead you held out a hand to stop him, making him look at you.

"Thank you," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands.

"For what?"

You smiled at him and he lifted an eyebrow at you, amused but curious.

"For giving me a family."

It took a few weeks, but your bones eventually healed and you were able to get back to work. Maria would only schedule you for half days and you argued that you could do more, but by the time you got home after only four hours, you had to admit you were exhausted.

Bill told you it would take some time for you to feel like yourself again, that it was completely normal and that you would need to build your strength back up. You had to constantly remind Joel you needed to start doing things for yourself, but he would still do whatever he could to keep you from getting up too much.

Joel heard you sigh from the bathroom and within seconds he was in the doorway, buttoning up his dress shirt with a tie draped loosely around his neck.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," you said quickly as you continued to stare into the mirror and fidget with your hair. "I can't get my hair to look the way I want it."

"I think you look beautiful," he said, sauntering over with his shirt still untucked to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, gazing at you in the mirror while he planted a quick kiss to your neck.

You sighed and tilted your head to the side, encouraging him to explore your neck more. You arched your back just a bit, pushing yourself back into his hips, causing his arms to stiffen around you.

"No funny business," he murmured against your skin, and you grinned.

"Not even a little funny business?" you teased, and you felt him chuckle lightly against your back.

"Nope. We're gonna be late," he said, pulling back suddenly but giving you a small tap on your ass with his palm before he walked away.

You glanced at the time and gasped quietly. He was right. Tommy and Maria's rehearsal dinner was in ten minutes, and even though it was just a handful of you at their house, you still didn't want to be late. Maria spent too much time planning this wedding and the last thing you were interested in doing was setting off the short fuse she had developed over the past couple weeks.

Quickly, you put on some old lipstick and fixed your dress before turning off the bathroom light. Joel was just finishing up knotting his tie, leaning forward a bit with his lips parted as he watched himself carefully in the mirror above your dresser and you had to resist the urge to push him down on the bed right then and there.

Ever since your energy slowly began coming back, so did your desire for Joel, but he was adamant about waiting until you were feeling better, which just left you feeling crazier by the day. You weren't sure if it was because you were finally on the mend, or maybe it had something to do with your breakthrough with him, but you found yourself feeling a lot needier than usual.

"Ready?" he asked you before running his fingers casually through his curls once more and walking over to you. You nodded, your lips pressed together as you glanced down at the blue shirt and navy slacks he picked out.

"You look good," you told him, your tone suggestive. He smirked and took your hand, leading you out of the bedroom.

"Ellie, we're leavin'," Joel called out to her, ignoring your compliment. "There's leftovers in the fridge!"

"Okay!" she called out, the sound of her music softly flowing through the floorboards as you made your way downstairs.

"Should we bring any pain killers in case you start gettin' sore?" Joel asked.

"No, I'll be fine."

"You sure? 'Cause-"

"Alright fine, we can bring them," you relented, just eager to get out of the house at this point. You pocketed them in your small purse and the two of you headed out towards Tommy and Maria's house, luckily arriving with two minutes to spare.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Maria as she greeted you with a warm hug.

"Me? What about you?" she said with a laugh.

"Oh, I'm fine! I want to hear all about you and what the future hellraiser is putting you through."

"She ain't fine," Joel said behind you, turning his head away from his brother. "Bill said-"

"Bill said I need to work on building up my strength. To me, that's fine," you told him, and he rolled his eyes.

"You two are so alike, it's scary, you know that?" Maria asked, leading you into the kitchen for a drink. You smiled and waved when you saw Carrie and Jake, along with Eugene and another woman who you thought was named Tina, but you couldn't quite remember, rounding out the rest of their wedding party.

"So really, how have you been feeling?" you asked her, taking the glass of wine she offered you.

"Nauseous, but it's getting a little better. And tired. Oh my god, I'm so tired all the damn time, it's crazy!"

"Oh, wow," you said, taking a sip before adding "you aren't even showing yet. How far along did Bill say you were?"

"I'm close to the end of the first trimester, thank god. He says that's when the nausea usually goes away and I should get some energy back," she said, checking the oven briefly before straightening back up. "But enough about me. How are you two?" she asked, nodding subtly towards Joel in the living room with Tommy and now Eugene.

"Better. Much better. We had a good talk after we got back, and I think we're on the same page," you said, glancing around the room at the others, making sure they were out of earshot.

"What page is that, exactly?" she pushed with a smirk.

"He's okay with not getting married or having kids," you replied with a noncommittal shrug. She narrowed her eyes at you and you frowned. "What?"

"Is that what you really want, though?"

"Well," you said, glancing around once again before lowering your voice. "I've come around to the whole marriage thing, but I don't really know how to tell him. I feel like I keep jerking him around and I don't know what to do."

"You need to be honest with him," she said immediately, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I just made this huge fuss -"

"It doesn't matter. This is your life, you have to do what's right. He might be confused at first but you know he will be so fucking ecstatic he will forget all about it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," you said, glancing over your shoulder to watch him laugh with Tommy, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "I just need to figure out how to tell him."

"And kids?" she asked, causing you to whip your head back around.

"I'm not there yet. But maybe one day," you finally admitted, making her squeal out with excitement and causing the rest of the guests to look your way.

"Sorry! The chicken just came out perfectly!" Maria said with a giggle. You laughed with her as you locked eyes with Joel and he raised a curious eyebrow at you. You shrugged and gave him a quick smile before turning back to Maria.

"Alright, enough of that. What can I do to help?"

"You sure you ain't in any pain? Maybe you should take somethin' before bed," Joel said as he watched you wince when you leaned over to take your heels off.

"I'm okay, I promise. It's the damn shoes," you explained, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing your calf. "Was I this annoying when you were hurt?"

"Worse," he said with a grin before sitting down next to you and taking your legs over his lap, his own fingers taking over, rubbing the sore muscles and doing a far better job.

"Thank you," you said breathily as you closed your eyes and leaned forward so your head was resting on his shoulder. You sat in silence for a moment, his strong hands digging into your calves, content to be in your shared home with Ellie safe and sound, right down the hall.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"Something's different," you said softly, your eyes still closed.

"What'dya mean?" he murmured, his lips pressed against the top of your head.

"I feel... safe," you said, opening your eyes a bit and staring at the wall across from your bed, his fingers still working your legs.

"That's good, baby," he whispered.

"No, I mean..." you paused, searching for the words, not sure how to say it. "I mean I'm not scared anymore."

His fingers paused as he absorbed your words, trying to figure out what you were saying.

"That's... good," he repeated, not quite understanding. You sighed and tilted your face up to look at him, your arm stretching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss. Another time, you thought. You'll figure out how to explain it another time.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, your fingers raking through his hair as the hand that was once on your calf slowly migrated up past your knee and to your thigh. Greedily, you nipped at his bottom lip and leaned backwards so you were flat on the bed, Joel partially on top of you while your lips moved faster, leaving quick, desperate kisses against his mouth.

"Hang on," he whispered, but you kept going, your heart slamming in your chest. Now that you felt him on top of you again, it was sparking a fire between your legs.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked jokingly, pulling back a bit and pinning your wrists into the mattress, your chest heaving.

"Please, Joel," you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

"C'mon, you know you ain't ready yet. You're still healing," he mumbled sweetly, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

"I am ready," you promised, but he just shook his head.

"We got a big day tomorrow," he whispered in your ear before sitting up, his weight no longer pressing against your upper half. "Let's just go to bed."

You pouted as you sat up next to him and he grinned.

"Ain't gonna work on me, sweetheart."

Then, an idea occurred to you. You shrugged and stood up, walking towards the bathroom as you slowly unzipped your dress, letting it pool at your feet only when you were in the safety of the small room. You turned around, hand on the door, only wearing your underwear as you took in Joel's slack jawed expression, his eyes slowly raking up and down your nearly naked frame.

"I'm gonna shower," you said quietly, his eyes still glued to your body. "You wanna join me?"

You could see the conflict in his face, trying so desperately to hold back and keep a clear head.

Finally, he forced himself to shake his head. You pouted again then shut the door, but not before sliding your underwear down your legs first, giving him a little show.

The water had barely gotten warm enough to step under the stream when he ripped open the shower curtain and stepped into the tub. You looked at him and smirked.

"I thought you said -"

He silenced you with his mouth covering yours, pushing you up against the cool tile while his knee slotted between your legs and his hand slowly drifted down your stomach. You gasped and smiled against his mouth when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed him.

"You need me that bad, huh?" he murmured against your mouth, and you nodded.

"Yes," you whined, arching your back off the wall, your wet body pressing up against his as his fingers dipped inside you and dragged them back out, smearing a mix of your arousal and water expertly over your clit.

"Can't be too loud, now," he reminded you, swallowing your breathless moans as his fingers circled faster. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding on tightly as he brought you to the edge way too quickly, months of not being touched by him finally coming to a head.

"Joel," you whispered, burying your face into his neck as you felt the muscles in your stomach tense. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you up just in time. Your legs went lax, your arms and Joel the only thing keeping you upright as you felt the coil in your belly snap, your sounds muffled against his skin and the water beating down around you.

"Better?" he asked when you finally found the strength to hold yourself back up. You nodded, your eyelids drooping, but you still slid your hand down his stomach. Right as you were about to wrap your fingers around him, he stopped you.

"Not tonight," he said, and you frowned. "It's late. We gotta get to bed."

If you weren't so exhausted, you would have put up a bigger fight. You leaned into him as he gently massaged shampoo into your hair, your eyes closed, blindly letting him direct you under the water to rinse before he got started on your body, his strong hands spreading the soap over your skin in circles.

He helped you get out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel as he dried your hair, his own body dripping water all over the floor. You lazily watched him work, a slow smile creeping across your face. He noticed and raised an eyebrow at you.

"I like it when you take care of me," you explained, and you swore you saw a little bit of pink dust his cheeks. He led you to bed, tucking the cool sheets around you as he brushed your damp hair away from your eyes. "Want you to take care of me forever," you mumbled as your eyes slid shut. He smiled, then his hand froze as his lips pursed in thought.

I feel safe.

I'm not scared anymore.

He finally understood what you were trying to tell him, and his heart began to flutter excitedly in his chest.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarahhxx03 @oscarissac2099 @motherjoel @silas-222 @b3l1nd5 @rocket-raccoon-silvie @missladym1981 @angie2274 @maried01 @ashleyfilm @alltheotps @mybworlds

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it. 

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add. 

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it. 

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic. 

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob. 

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself. 

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions. 

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts. 

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse. 

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride. 

If only it was that easy to fool himself. 

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?” 

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest. 

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it. 

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings. 

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t. 

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation. 

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party. 

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere. 

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here. 

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I  should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence. 

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation. 

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him. 

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt. 

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back. 

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

--

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

An a/b/o fic with maybe Bruce Wayne or Arthur curry, where they have been searching for their omega for most of their life, and when they are fighting a villain fem reader comes in and helps them, I was thinking that reader she has telekinesis or something and, she helps them and they are blown away by her, never thinking that their omega could be a hero as well

.⋆｡Crashing Waves｡⋆.

alpha!Arthur Curry x plus size reader

He has been looking for her for his whole life and she arrived just in time

Warnings: a/b/o, true mates, hero!reader, omega!reader, violence against robots, reader is shorter than Bruce and Arthur (but who isn’t), implied smut WC: 1.4k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Even after serving as Atlantis’s king for five years now, Arthur doubted he would get used to the searing smell of salt that constantly clung to everything around him. It burned his nostrils even when he was lounging around the JL tower and part of him wondered if he would ever be able to properly scent out his mate while the sea constantly invaded his senses. Though even before he claimed the throne, he wasn’t exactly successful on that front.

He felt like he had searched everywhere for his omega, the biological urge deep down in his chest driving him to scour every inch of the earth for them. But they had eluded him and even if his parents (themselves being true mates) assured him that the right omega would appear when the time was right, he remained alone with the smell of the sea. 

Arthur was almost glad, at times, for a good fight. Smoke, sparks from his trident, even blood gave him a break from the usual salt that surrounded him, temporarily cleansing his pallet so to speak. But maybe not today he thought with a wince.

Hundreds of broken robots surrounded him, the never-ending wave of enemies only getting thicker as his exhaustion began to mount. Batman was somewhere deep in the crowd, attempting to override their programming as Arthur tried to keep him safe enough. New enemies were always a pain in the ass but this one was definitely levels above the other newbies they fought. And Arthur was already fantasising about what he’d do to the skinny little white guy as soon as he got his hands on him, that is if Batman didn’t get to either of them first.

“Is there any way to hurry this up!” He shouted above the screaming of gears and failing electronics. 

“This would go faster if you stopped hitting them at me.” The Bat growled as he hit yet another firewall in their programming. Arthur took another swing of his trident, knocking away a flying robot that had gotten way too close to his partner’s head for comfort. It let out a high pitched whine as it was launched into the horizon.

“This would be faster if you didn’t type in the wrong code to begin with!” A batarang screamed past his ear, landing right in the huge glowing eye of the robot hovering just over Arthur’s right shoulder. Oil sprayed from its side, coating Arthur’s hair. 

A deafening roar sounded through the empty field as another shipping container rose from the ground, releasing even more robots. Batman turned back to the computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard all while the swarm closed in around them. “This is gonna hurt.” Arthur cocked back his shoulder and raised his trident, maybe he could knock out a few rows of them before they got too close and he’d have to switch to his fists. 

Just as he readjusted his grip to throw the trident into the thickest grouping of robots, everything went silent.

The now frozen robots hung in the air like someone had just paused time, though they still whirred and whined, their huge red eyes glowing even brighter. Then, with little more than a sharp click from somewhere to his right, they were pulled backwards, the mechanical bodies slamming into each other as they were forced together into one huge sphere hundreds of feet off the ground. 

“What the fuck?” Suddenly, the sphere crumpled like tin foil, the metal warping and collapsing until all that was left was a flat sheet of wires and dying LEDs. It slammed into the earth, disappearing behind the long grass as Batman’s screen turned green.

“Great timing there bats.” But Arthur’s tone held no bite, not when the salty smell of the ocean and ozone slammed into him. 

Immediately, every nerve in his body came to life, buzzing like he was drunk but his mind was clear, clearer than it ever had been before. A figure was walking through the grass, elegantly avoiding the mangled carcasses of their battle. As she approached, her scent became stronger and Arthur could now smell the subtle hint of something flowery like a warm spring breeze. 

The light of the sunset made her practically glow as she moved, her thick curves and perfect dips highlighted by a tight catsuit that looked like it was pulled straight from his teenage fantasies. 

“I hope I didn’t show up too late.” Her voice floated around him and Arthur’s knees buckled. 

“You’re right on time.” Her e/c eyes met his golden ones and he watched as her nose turned up and she took a deep breath of his scent. Her heavy chest hitched and her own scent turned sweeter. His stomach flipped as something deep inside him stretched awake for the first time in what seemed like years.

“Y/N. What took so long?” Batman crossed his arms as he looked down at her, his jaw ticking in anger. Yet her expression never faltered, in fact she glanced at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. Her smile was bright, shining with something ethereal. 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you gave me a coded message with the coordinates instead of being a normal person and sharing your location with me? I may have psychic powers but I suck at math dude.” 

“That was you?” Arthur hadn’t noticed that his body was moving on its own until he finally spoke again and she had to crane her head almost all the way back to make eye contact with him. Warmth unlike anything he had experienced before bloomed through his chest as she leaned towards him, fluttering her lashes up at him.

“I have a lot of tricks better than that.” Her scent was almost overpowering now but all he wanted to do was drown in it. Y/N’s shoulder brushed against his pec and something snapped.

The world tilted on its axis and he suddenly knew what his parents were talking about when they said that the moment they met, nothing else mattered. “Omega.” 

Her body sagged into him as she breathed out an almost inaudible “alpha”. His trident dropped unnoticed to the ground. 

“I’ve finally found you.” She fell easily into his arms, like they had been made to hold her. She pressed her face as close as she could get, her words muffled against the thick armour but he could hear her clearly all the same. 

“You stole my line,” he whispered into her hair, breathing her scent as much as he could, “I’ve been waiting for you for so long. Who knew I’d find you after you saved my life?” Her giggle made his heart swell with affection and pride.

“You’ve obviously been looking in the wrong place.” Y/N looked up at him as he cupped her full cheek with a massive hand, guiding her face upwards. His eyes dropped to her lips.

“I could say the same about you.” He leaned down and just as his lips were about to touch hers-

“Alright that’s enough,” Bruce snarled, “need I remind you both that there’s still a villain we need to deal with.” 

Y/N never looked away from Arthur, in fact she wound an arm around his neck and tugged him even closer. His alpha roared to life, hyper-focusing on the softness of her curves beneath his hands. “You go ahead, I think my alpha and I have done more than enough heavy lifting for the day, we have better things to do.”

“I’m going to regret asking but what exactly is more important than dealing with a potentially global threat?” Arthur smirked, catching on to the game she was playing.

His right hand dropped from where it was resting on her wide hip down to the plump cheeks of her ass. “I’m going to rip her clothes off and fuck her brains out right in this field. So unless you’re into that stuff-“ she slapped his chest at that, “-then I suggest you move on, Bats, cause right now, nothing is going to stop me from claiming my omega.”

“You two are disgusting.” He grumbled and walked off, finally leaving the newly discovered mates alone.

“Now where were we?” Arthur purred before Y/N yanked him down and finally kissed him, making the smell of the ocean explode around them.

Her scent had been haunting him for years, etching itself into his mind and suddenly, Arthur loved the smell of salt again because it meant that he finally had his omega.

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[sitp-recs]

do you have any recs for drarry + workplace romance?

I definitely do, one of my favourite tropes! This list is strongly focused on office romance and as you can see it got a bit out of hand so I’m gonna link two additional rec lists that might interest you: sports AU and Quidditch fics. Enjoy!!!

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Aye by @starquestingfordrarry (M, 1k)

Draco buys some Muggle magnets for the office.

Coded Office Missives by carpemermaid (E, 2.5k)

They had an arrangement. Malfoy would send a coded memo when he needed Harry. He knew to tell his secretary to hold his appointments, and lock the door after he arrived. It was a game they started when they were just starting their careers at the Ministry; it’s something they’ve kept up all this time.

The Keepers by RenVeree (T, 3.6k)

In the Rare Books Department of the Ministry of Magic, Draco tends to unique texts and, on occasion, a certain Unspeakable.

Graffiti and Insomnia by SilentAuror (M, 4k)

Harry can't seem to sleep these days. Perhaps it's the boredom of his office job, but all that changes with a bit of graffiti in the office bathroom one day.

Never Gonna Give You Up by InnerLilith (E, 5k)

Five times Harry rickrolls Draco and one time Draco gets him back.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos (E, 6k)

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Say the words / then stay around by Teatrolley (NR, 6k)

They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad?

Interdepartmental Memos by GoldenTruth813, Henndra (E, 6k)

What do you get when GoldenTruth813 plays Harry and Henndra is Draco? An epistolary fic of course!

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose (T, 8k)

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Small Spaces series by @bixgirl1 (E, 8.5k)

Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart, orphaned (NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

This Unexpected Windfall by mindabbles (E, 11k)

Harry doesn’t like it when Draco is called in to work one of his cases. No. He doesn’t like it at all — at least that’s what he tells himself.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites (E, 11k)

Harry James Potter, Member of the Wizengamot for Godric’s Hollow, Secretary for Transport is ill-suited for the world of wizarding politics. Enter Draco Malfoy, Director of Communications for the Minister for Magic to moonlight as his press secretary. It should solve all of Harry’s issues with the press and Draco’s issues with over-work. Theoretically.

What Real Thing? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 12k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

In Which Harry is Magnetic North and Draco Is An Idiot by bryoneybrynn (T, 13k)

For as long as he can remember, Draco’s been bringing fake dates to his family’s annual Yuletide celebration in order to evade his mother’s matchmaking. This year, Potter’s posing as his pretend boyfriend.

The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) by @moonflower-rose (E, 15k)

Draco Malfoy is the heart and soul of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The only thing standing in the way of professional bliss is his boss. And Harry Potter.

Give Me a Quiet Mind by @wellhalesbells (T, 16k)

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again?

Ardour of Karma by @xx-thedarklord-xx (E, 17k)

“Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.” “How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”

Common and Cliché by bryoneybrynn (E, 17k)

Aurors Malfoy and Potter have to work a case on Beltane. It would be simple if everything wasn't so damn distracting.... For those of you who are wondering, yes, I've tried to cram in as many h/d clichés as possible. But hopefully the story works as a story, too. It's not crack!fic by a long shot but it is a bit tongue-in-cheek.

Knot Your Average Coworkers by @thecouchsofa (E, 22k)

It takes Harry a while to work out that every month, almost like clockwork, Draco is given an assignment in the field that takes him out of their shared office for days on end. After each assignment, Draco returns looking so bloody exhausted that Harry gears up to file a complaint with their boss.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

The Darkness Before the Dawn by Ren (E, 55k)

A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 70k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine.

Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 149k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Tales From the Special Branch series by Femme (E, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

[baby-yongbok]

Manipulation

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

-`♡´- Genre: Friends to Lovers - Supernatural themes

-`♡´- Summary: Jisung is all that you have and you're all that he wants.

-`♡´- Word Count: 6k

-`♡´- Warnings: Mentions of Blood (Like, a lot, though no one ever bleeds), Supernatural themes (Jisung and Reader have supernatural abilities), Violence, Use of drugs & alcohol (Smoking While driving -please don't do that), [I think that's all.]

-`♡´- A/N: Jisung is basically a blood bender and that's fucking awesome to me.. so enjoy!+ the reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡. All feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading! 💗

-`♡´- Note - Hemokinesis or Blood Manipulation is the ability to control and manipulate blood.

-`♡´- Masterlist -`♡´-

We should have never met but the fact that we did means that chaos is a naturally occurring thing in this world. Why do I say that? Let’s just say that Jisung and I are not the type of people that you want around. We’re the exact opposite. Degenerates. The evil in a good situation, and we whole heartedly don’t give a fuck about the damage we cause because the only thing that matters is the fact that we have each other. We’ll always have each other. Now, what could we possibly do that’s so bad? We manipulate, but not in the way that you’d expect.

“Hey, bubs?” Turning to face Jisung from my spot in front of my closet I feel my legs weaken beneath me as I stumble backwards a bit, using the door frame behind me to keep me up. The feeling is gone just as fast as it came and I take a second to ground myself before flashing a well deserved middle finger in Jisung’s direction.

“Fuck you with the iron manipulation.” He erupts into a fit of laughter as I abandon the task of trying to locate the bag that he lent me that I’m more than sure is buried in my closet. I was going to be nice and finally return it but after that stunt I think that I’ll keep it for a bit longer. “You think you’re so funny.” I sit on the edge of my bed, glaring at my best friend as his laughs intertwine with the music playing from my speakers. He always gets a kick out of using his abilities on me, he’s had his fun now I’ll have mine. I lift my hand towards Jisung and his laughter stops instantly. 

“Yeah?” With a grin Jisung looks around aimlessly. “Gonna take my sight away? You’re playing dirty now.” 

“Oh am I? Come get me, Ji.” Standing and backing away from my bed a bit, I keep my control over his sight as he reaches out in front of him, swatting his hand in an attempt to hit me. I mimic his earlier laughter as he struggles to navigate the newfound darkness. 

“Ya know, the good thing about my abilities is that, if I want them to, they apply to everyone in the room no matter if I can see you or not.” He clenches his fist and my body stiffens. “So now, you’re locked in place and I definitely can find you.” Standing carefully from the bed he holds his hands out to keep from banging into anything. I try to speak but the blood in my body is literally frozen under Jisung’s control, don’t ask me how I’m even still alive with one of the most important units of my life force frozen inside of me, I don’t know the answer. Nobody does. That’s why Jisung’s ability is so dangerous, it doesn’t make any sense. The only thing that I do know is that if I try to retaliate even a little I’ll be on Jesus’s doorstep. 

“Mmm, I can hear you breathing.” He chuckles a bit as he takes his final step before bumping right into me. Unclenching his fist and freeing my blood from his bind he catches me as my body gives out from the sudden blood rush. His sight restores itself as I release my bind on his vision. 

“Got ya” Looking up at him with angry eyes we both can’t help but to erupt into laughter. This is what we do, we use our powers to mess with each other and get what we want. There’s only a select few of us who can do the things we do, why would we want to waste it by doing what society wants us to? I understand that we can be troublesome from time to time like when we crash parties… or cars, but this isn’t our fault I swear.

If people didn’t think that we were monsters maybe we’d behave differently. If people didn’t think that Jisung was a criminal then maybe he’d be more willing to calm down. But no, because he is the only living person with hemokinesis in this city that we know of, he’s labeled as high risk and everyone is constantly on his back the moment he steps outside. There’s never been anyone willing to get to know him until he met me during our freshmen year of university. People aren’t too fond of me either, I guess having the ability to manipulate bodily function is scary? Seems pretty mundane to me. We were outcasts so naturally we gravitated towards each other and before we knew it we were best friends, partners in crime that promised to protect each other from everyone's nasty comments and condescending stares. That was short lived though because we both dropped out of university a month after we met. 

The sound of The Neighborhood playing blares through my room and cuts through our laughter as we start to dance a bit as I regain my composure and even out my breathing. He sways me as we dance hand in hand through my dim bedroom before pushing me back onto the mattress and plopping down next to me. 

“You know what would make this Friday night a real win?” He asks and I look over at him. “Weed and a couple of beers.” 

“Then what are we still doing here? You’re driving.” Sitting up and grabbing my sweater next to my bed I stand with Jisung as we put our shoes on and grab our stuff. We leave my bedroom and cut through the kitchen to avoid my brother and father in the living room. The worst thing about dropping out of college is having to still live with the little bit of family I have left. Rent costs an arm and a leg around here so right now my minimum wage job won’t cut it. 

“Going out.” I call to them.

We hear quick footsteps approach as I reach for the doorknob, before I can turn it completely my father appears to the left of us catching our attention. “Where are you headed?” He only wants to know so that he can listen out for any gossip later. He knows that Jisung and I will be the talk of the town if we do anything too extreme. I’ve learned that what everyone else finds to be extreme is very different from what we think. Death is extreme to us, a fire or a house crumbling to the ground, those are extreme events. To everyone else, either of us breathing is enough to get the damn president to send out the troops. 

“Not sure yet, gonna drive around a bit.” I notice my step-brother standing behind my dad glaring at Jisung from over his shoulder. “Oh, Ji didn’t you want to head by that store?” 

I take Jisung’s hand in mine and interlock our fingers. Both my father and brother’s eyes lock in on the gesture and they both seem to try and stop themselves from having a visceral reaction, they failed.  Jisung catches on quickly and joins in on my little game. “Yeah, I did, they have a huge parking lot and it’s always busy. I thought we could go and put on a show.” 

Jisung nudges me suggestively and I genuinely chuckle in response. What makes me laugh harder is my brother, San’s clenched jaw and my dads disgusted yet furious gaze locked on Jisung. I can tell that he’s praying that it’s a joke, praying that he and I aren’t really dating or fucking or anything like that. I’m sure that he would rather be stoned to death than hear me say that Jisung and I are dating. He’s so lucky that we’re not.

“Relax, I’m joking.”  Jisung says before opening the front door and placing his hand on the small of my back. “It’s always empty so it’ll be a private show.” 

I can’t help the laughter that escapes me as Jisung leads me out of the front door, swiftly closing it behind us. My dad calls after me but we just hurry over to his car like we didn’t hear him. “I’ll take good care of her.” Jisung yells back towards the house before sliding into the front seat and slamming the door closed. 

“You’re horrible.” I scoff as I buckle myself in.

“You started it.” He shrugs as he starts his horribly old pick up truck and pulls out of the driveway.

As funny as that was, I know that I’m going to hear an earful later, especially from San, he’d kill Jisung if he could and I know that for a fact. San despises anyone with abilities but he has a special hate for Jisung, he’s gone on endless rants over the years hoping that one day I’d suddenly agree that he’s right and that Jisung is a monster, that day hasn’t come and it never will. 

“You grab the beer, I’ll stock up on snacks.”  Jisung says as he shuts his car off and steps into the gas station parking lot. 

“Roger that.” I coughed a bit before ashing the tip of the blunt we were sharing. I’d be lying if I said that the weed we’ve been smoking for the past fifteen minutes wasn’t starting to get to me. I have a much lower tolerance than Jisung but you would never be able to tell since I’ve mastered the art of hiding it. Doing recreational drugs isn’t exactly welcomed at my house with my father being a part of the city government. Oh, did I forget to mention that my dad is the city attorney? How else do you think that Jisung and I are still walking free after all of the shit we get into. My dad might hate the guy but he’s saved us both more times than I can count.

We waltz into the store and go our separate ways to complete our mission. I head right over to the fridge housing our desired golden liquid and grab two cases, one of my favorite brand and one of Jisung’s. As I’m walking up to the front of the store I hear what sounds like aggravated voices going back and forth, when did that start? It was silent a second ago. As I get closer I realize that it’s the store clerk ranting at a now very aggravated Jisung. Seriously? We just left the house. 

“All the stores in the area and this kid had to pick mine. We don’t serve the likes of you here.”  Jisung hasn’t said more than two words to the guy since I’ve been standing here. He just lets him go on and on since we’re very used to this type of thing happening. They complain, take our money, complain some more and then we leave. 

“If you’d let me pay I can leave.” Jisung states matter of factly as he slaps a twenty on the counter. “ I’ll take those cases too.” 

I walk up next to him and place the cases on the counter. “I got this” I slip in front of Jisung and smile at the man behind the counter. He’s pissing me off but he doesn’t have to know that. I often try to intervene before things get too out of hand, especially when Jisung is high. He already has a fairly short temper and for some reason it’s way worse when he’s under the influence. 

“This is all, sir.” I say to the clerk as I pick up the twenty and extend my arm towards him.

“You’re with that degenerate? Aren’t you Choi’s daughter?” Closing my eyes tightly I sigh keeping my arm extended towards him. Of course he recognises me, just wonderful. One of the downsides to being the city attorney’s daughter is that almost everyone knows your face. This is why I stopped going to those Godforsaken press conferences. “You’re gonna get yourself killed hanging with him.”

“No, it’s you that’s going to get yourself killed.” Jisung protests as he lifts his hand in that insufferable man’s direction. 

“Ji, come on” The clerk behind the counter instantly starts to moan in pain so I assume that he is using his Thermovariance, in other words, he’s boiling his fucking blood. Not enough to kill him, just enough to nearly get a steam rolling. 

“Han, seriously, let's just go.” He’s a sucker for me calling him Han, I never understood why but I don’t care as long as it gets me what I want.

He sighs, dropping his hand and rolling his eyes at me. He’s pissed off and I understand that but I’m not trying to build a criminal record at this age, maybe in my late twenties but not now. “Leave the cash, let's go before I empty him.” Placing the money down on the counter I grab some of the snacks and one of the cases of beer and leave the rest for Jisung to grab.

“Have a good night” I called over to the disoriented clerk before getting back into the car. 

“I’m way too high for this shit.”  Jisung groans as he lights a new blunt before starting the car. He takes a long drag before passing it to me and driving off. We get some ways down the road in comfortable silence before he breaks the barrier.

 “Why do you still hang out with me?” I can barely hear his question over the music but he looks at me expectantly anyway. I shrug as I stare forward and focus on the passing streetlights.

“To piss off my dad obviously.” Jisung scoffs, snatching the blunt from me and bringing it to his lips.

“I always knew you were using me.” He shakes his head as he blows a thick stream of smoke through his nose in a deep exhale. “Such a bitch.”

Neither of us can contain our laughter as we fan at the cloud of smoke surrounding us. He may have asked a serious question but he knew that I wouldn’t give him a serious answer. We save the serious stuff for when we’re so stoned that we can hear colors and taste sounds, this is only the beginning. 

“If I can’t use you for sex then I might as well use you for something.” 

“And why can’t you use me for sex?” He quips back with a light chuckle. My red eyes meet his for a split second before looking down at the blunt that he’s passing me. 

“Well first of all that’s disgusting and second of all I’m not trying to have my brother actually kill you. The only reason he hasn’t is because he knows that we’re just playing around.” I lean forward to ash the blunt on the dashboard and open the window to air out the car, the smoke mixed with the obvious sexual tension in here is suffocating. 

There wasn’t an ounce of truth to me saying that fucking Jisung would be disgusting and he knows that, we’ve talked about this more than once. He thinks I’m hot which I find hard to believe since I’m not really a reflection of the girls that he likes to date. I’m thick, a lot thicker than anyone he’s ever slept with but he’s gone on several rants about just how much he loves my body so I have no reason to doubt the validity of his statement. Jisung on the other hand is exactly my type, honey skin and soft brown hair with a beautifully toned body and an impossibly tiny waist. He’s unreal and he knows it. Despite his social status there are a slew of women who are dying to piss off their families by having him dick them down in the backseat of his car on any given tuesday. They use him as revenge bait and he knows it but he doesn’t care as long as he gets to nut. 

We’ve talked about things that friends normally discuss like when we lost our virginity or how many times we’ve touched ourselves thinking about each other, it’s all water under the bridge for us… I think. The tension between us always builds a bit higher on nights like this, I mean who doesn’t get horny when they’re high right? But on a serious note I can’t fuck Jisung no matter how attracted to him I might be because that would complicate things and he’s the only uncomplicated thing in my life. My dad and step-brother haven’t been the same since we lost my mom five years ago and then a week after that my sister fell to the same fate. My only remaining blood sibling wants nothing to do with any of us and San and I have an intricate relationship to say the least. Sleeping with my best friend would be like setting myself up for failure. 

“First of all, that’s rude and second of all your brother loves me.” The teasing tone in his voice fades into a chuckle that prompts an eye roll from me. 

“Do you want to kill everyone that you love?” He shrugs and hums lightly before glancing over at me with his eyebrows raised and his lips pulled into a thin line. “Fuck you, Ji.”

He laughs, eyes focused on the nearly empty street in front of him as we stop at a light. “I hope you know that I'd kill him before he kills me.” Jisung glances over at me, his features are cold and serious. I stare back at him, mirroring his expression the best I can before cracking a small smile. “I know where we can hide the body.”

“Fucking maniac.” He scoffs with a smile and I laugh with him. He turns onto the highway and I turn the radio up to a deafening volume. 

“Speed up, what’re ya scared?” I reach up and open the sunroof and Jisung watches me as he bops his head to the music. He lets down all of the windows as I stand on my seat and stick my upper half out of the sunroof just as he speeds up. He’s probably going ten over the limit right now but I don’t see any cops around and there are barely any cars on the road. He starts racing imaginary cars, weaving between lanes and effectively throwing me side to side as I try to enjoy the night breeze. This has been my thing since I was a kid, my mom would let me stand in the car as my dad sped down the highway, she’d let me climb onto the middle console and stick my arms up out of the sunroof while she held me in place. It was dangerous but it was so much fun, so freeing.

The vibration of the bass shook the car as it glided down the highway. My skirt blew in the wind rushing through the window as Jisung sped up bit by bit. Suddenly, I feel warmth on my thigh and all of my concentration goes to that spot. Jisung’s fingers trail up my leg and caress the skin peaking out in the diamonds of my fishnet stockings. Though he and I agree that we could never fuck each other the bond that we foster isn’t exactly conventional. We like to touch each other, he’ll rub my thigh or hold me from behind casually and I reciprocate his actions on a regular basis. This is our normal, the part that’s new to me is the slow trail that his hand is making towards my heat. I can hear him singing the song on the radio as he speeds up just a bit more, probably hitting 85 in the 60 by now. His hand continues up my thigh, moving to the side to trace the curve of my hip. 

“Fuck.” I hear him exasperate as I process the sound of police sirens behind us. I crawl back down into my seat and put my seatbelt on. We turn down the music completely and pull over to the shoulder of the highway. I reach into the glove compartment and hand Jisung his registration and we both take our licenses and ability identification cards and place them on the dashboard along with our open hands. When you get pulled over with an abilities like ours, some officers like to try and get a reaction out of you. The last time we got pulled over I was the only thing stopping Jisung from literally killing the officer that decided to get handsy with him.

The officer approaches the window like a snail crossing the street and we both sigh. We exchange knowing looks and I start silently praying to myself, please don’t let this man be an asshole. Once he reaches the window he looks us both over before silently reaching into the car to grab Jisung’s identification and registration “How are you doing tonight, kids.” He checks the registration then his License and lastly his ability card. Jisung and I opt to stay quiet and offer no more than a meek nod in his direction.

“What are you two doing out tonight?” The officer asks as he shines his flashlight in Jisung’s face. His eyes trail up and down Ji’s frame, sizing him up. 

“We’re going on a date.” Jisung shrugs as he makes eye contact with the officer. 

“A date, huh? Where to?”

“Well, sir, I’m trying to surprise my lovely girlfriend here so if it’s alright with you, I'll keep that to myself.” He smiles up at the officer teasingly. The less he knows the better.

“I see.”

“May I ask why we were stopped? Are we getting a ticket?” 

“You were going twenty over the speed limit, I’ll let you love birds off with a warning this time.” The officer pauses before looking over at me. “ I’ll warn you especially ma’am, be careful with this kid he’s dangerous.”

Satisfied with himself, the officer smiles down at the irritated man in the driver's seat. “You two be careful alright? There was some commotion over at the gas station some ways from here. You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would ya?” the officer drops all of the collected information into Ji’s lap as he looks between us. 

“Not at all, if we hear anything we’ll be sure to call the station.” I didn’t plan on lying to a cop tonight but I guess this is fine. He looks between us clearly trying to spook us but we’re unfazed, it’s gonna take a lot more than staring behind some black out shades to intimidate us.

“Alright, well then I’ll let you kids go, have a good night.” He starts to walk away but doubles back suddenly, bending down to the window. “And try to sober up a bit before heading home.”

He stalks away again, quicker than when he came and Jisung and I do our best not to laugh. “That was fucking close, is it that obvious that we’re stoned?”

I can’t help the laugh that erupts from my throat as I stuff my ID back into my wallet. Jisung stares at me in confusion as he mimics my actions.

“Dude, we have two cases of beer in the backseat and we literally hot boxed your car a couple of minutes ago. We smell like a dispensary and your eyes are glowing red.” He hurriedly looks into the rearview mirror and examines his appearance.

“ Fuck, you’re right.” He fixes the mirror and sighs, we sit in silence for a bit before he speaks up. “Can you pass me the eyedrops out of the glove compartment?”

“Yeah, sure.” I start searching through the glove compartment but I stop when a waft of smoke floats in my direction. I side eye Jisung as he takes a small drag of the blunt and blows it out of the window.

“Want a hit?” He offers me the blunt with raised brows and I scoff before continuing my search. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“Which one is your favorite?” I ask Jisung as I raise my beer bottle to my lips. After some more aimless driving we ended up going to our favorite spot in some woods just outside of town. It’s the perfect spot for us to be left alone with our antics. We turn the car radio up and rotate between laying in the pick up bed of his car and sitting on a huge rock that we’ve claimed as our own. Right now the blankets spread out in the back of his pick up are way too cozy and inviting to pass up on since it’s gotten a bit chilly out.

“Which what?”

“Which part of your ability?” He looks over at me with a slight blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. He takes a swig of his beer and swiftly follows with a drag of our third shared blunt. I suggested that we stop a long time ago but Jisung insisted on pushing the limits tonight. I’m pretty fucked up from the cross fade of weed and alcohol but I’ll never admit that and I wont have to because the rosy blush on my caramel skin is a dead giveaway.

“Why do you want to know?” A shy laugh slips from his lips and I shrug, it’s just a question why is he getting shy?

“Curious, If you tell me yours I’ll tell you mine.”

“I like that I can control blood flow, it comes in handy.” With furrowed brows I take a swig of my drink while racking my brain trying to figure out how such a thing could be useful. 

“How so?” 

“Ahh.. that, my dear, is something I’d have to show you and I don’t think you want me to show you what I use that for.” He explains turning to me slightly. I mimic his movements turning my body to him and giving him my full attention. 

“Show me.”

“Seriously, I don’t think - “

“What’re ya scared? I thought the Amazing- Bloodbending- Han Jisung wasn’t scared of anything?” My teasing seemed to get to him just a bit, so naturally I continued. “The Jisung that I’m always hearing about is some confident, daring and dangerous man who isn't scared of anything.”

“Fuck it.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me closer to him so that he can put his arm around me. He moves to put his beer down and free his other hand while I watch him in confusion. 

“What are you-” He rolls his eyes, turning back to face me.

“You begged for it and now you want to back out? What’re ya scared?” He mocks my previous question and now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“Shut up, I’m just confused.” 

“Trust me, bubs.” He looks me over slowly, too slowly. What's going on here? “Have I ever hurt you before? Okay, wait, don't answer that. Have I ever hurt you on purpose?” With a slight laugh I shake my head. 

“Then relax and let me know if you get uncomfortable.” Without another word from either of us and some rock indie rock song blasting on the radio Jisung takes a deep breath and rubs his fingers together. He then lightly touches my knee and guides my legs apart. I furrow my brows again before he places the palm of his hand over my pelvic bone and I start to feel a euphoric rush in my stomach and legs. The feeling works its way up and down to fill every inch of my body. My core starts to pulse and drip as Jisung watches me closely with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“W- what are you -” 

“I increased blood flow to your… you know. It’s like an instant turn on.” The air around me feels thick and I find myself fighting the urge to whine at the building pressure, am I about to… no way, I can’t cum from this. Impossible. “This is my favorite part of my ability.” A shy smile crosses his blushed lips and I can’t help but to stare at them. I always stare but never when he can catch me, I always wonder how they’d feel against my lips and skin. I’ve always wanted to taste them. Woah, what the fuck? No, I can’t think things like that, not about him.

“Okay, cool you c-can stop now.” His eyes stare down at me with a heated gaze, boring holes into my skin. His eyes switch focus between my eyes and my lips as he reluctantly moves his hand. I sigh in relief as I feel my body start to cool down but it’s not enough, I still feel the blistering heat of need crawling under my skin. Fuck, why did he have to show me that? It’s bad enough that we’re out here ten minutes to midnight while I’m in a skimpy skirt and he’s in a tight black tank top. He let me borrow his jacket when the wind picked up and now I want nothing more than to give it back to maybe extinguish these hot and disgusting thoughts running through my head.

“Remember our deal about not fucking?” I stare up at him, wide eyed and feeling vulnerable. “What does that apply to?” 

“What do you… what do you mean?” Suddenly it feels like he never even moved his hand. My body feels hot all over again and I can feel myself clench around nothing desperately.

“I mean I just... Fuck.” He pauses as he takes a second to help me sit up and he picks up his drink and takes a long swig. That was definitely a courage shot, what the hell is he about to say? “I mean.. you have no idea how much I think about just… corrupting you. Manipulating your body, I’ve wanted to do that trick to you since I discovered it.” 

A small chuckle escapes him as he looks over at me trying to gauge my reaction.

“Ji, you know why we agreed to that. Sex leads to complicated relationships or dating or whatever and I can’t do that with you. I can’t risk losing you too.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Jisung's response is nearly a whisper, a desperate plea that came out weaker than he expected. “If we’re together then you’ve got me for life, bubs. You’re my best friend, nothing could ever change that. You’re the only person who doesn’t see me as a monster.”

Now it’s my turn to take a courage shot. I down the rest of my drink, avoiding eye contact like it could kill me. “I get it, you wanna fuck me, you don’t have to butter me up to get in my pants.”

“Hey hey hey, this is about way more than that. I don’t just want to fuck you, you’re so much more than a stupid notch in my belt. I want to be with you. I’ve wanted that for so long and you’ve wanted it too. I know you do. I see the way you look at me all the time, when I stay over at your place and we’re sleeping together and when I’m driving and you think that I don’t notice. You stare at me just like I stare at you, you have that same longing in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He’s serious now, his tone is firm and it adds an extra beat to my already hammering heart. How does he know all of that? How long has it been since he’s noticed?

“Jisung, I don't have feelings for you. You’re hot, that's it.” I’m lying. I’m lying through my fucking teeth and he knows it. I’m a shit liar when I’m faded.

“Then let me kiss you.” He finishes his drink and puts his bottle to the side all while looking straight at me. “If I’m nothing more than your hot best friend, let me kiss you. If you pull away then you’re telling the truth but if you don’t then you feel the same way that I do.”

“I’m not doing that.” My eyes fall to his converse and I take a shaky inhale. There’s no way that this is happening, what is he thinking?

“You are.” He sounds like he’s pleading again, his words are careful but he means them, oh gosh. He leans forward, placing the bend of his pointer finger under my chin and lifting my head until my gaze meets his. “I’m sick of us pretending” He whispers, his voice full of emotion. I can’t look away, my heart is pounding in my chest and I take a deep breath. His other hand reaches for mine, taking it and pressing chaste kisses to my knuckles. His eyes squeeze shut with each kiss and I can’t help but to take in the sight of him, his features softened by emotion, his emotions for me. I let out a shaky breath and whisper back. 

"Han, we shouldn’t."

“Why not?” His eyes are still closed and he squeezes my hand as his lips move against the back of it. “I know you better than anyone on this earth. I love you more than anyone in this universe, you love me too, I know you do. What are you afraid of?”

“I told you, I can’t lose you.” My voice sounds more strained than I anticipated but I ignore it, it’s a reflection of how I feel. A verbal representation of the hurricane in my chest.

“If you’re so afraid to lose me then why won’t you be mine? Why won’t you let me have you?”

“Ji, stop it.” He drops the hand that he was kissing and moves his other hand to completely cup my cheek. We’re so close that his exhales are my inhales and I swear I can hear his heart pounding from here or maybe that’s mine.

“Let me kiss you.”

“Jisung” His name is merely a whisper as I exhale.

“Let me.” He whispers back and the sweet sound of his voice rings in my ears.

“Han.” I inhale the scent of him but it’s not the same, it's desperate, but it’s sweet. Much sweeter than usual.

“I’m going to kiss you.” He closes the gap between us and I hold my breath. His lips touch mine and the heat that I was feeling earlier multiplies with a spark of burning desire. He’s kissing me. My best friend is kissing me and only one word comes to mind. Perfect, this moment is perfect, he is perfect and I desperately don’t want him to be. His lips move against mine slowly, passionately, and I almost feel like I’m floating. I thought that I’d feel panic. I thought that I’d be scared but I’m not, he was right. Fuck it.

I sigh into the kiss as I melt into his touch, his fingers caress my cheek softly as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me. His other hand rests on my hip, squeezing lightly and guiding me forward to straddle his lap. I climb onto him as I savor his taste. There's hints of beer and the blunt we shared but there’s a sweetness to it, it’s something that I can only describe as being him. It’s Jisung that I taste and he’s flooding my senses. 

“I knew it.” He whispers against my lips before pressing me back into a hungry kiss. Our lips abuse each other relentlessly as they move in tandem. I can’t seem to control the small whines that escape me but I don’t mind because each one of my whines is matched with a desperate groan from Jisung. 

“Be mine.” He whispers into my mouth and I sigh, content at the sound of it. He wants me, he wants to be with me… but what if I lose him?

“Ji.” I whisper back, trying my best to pull away but he holds me there. His hand on my cheek kept my lips on his. “Jisung” I lightly push at his chest, I can’t do this. We can’t do this. What if everything goes wrong? What if I lose him too? “Han.”

He stops, pulling away with heavy breath and dilated pupils. His blushed lips are more red than usual and he dips his tongue out to lick them quickly as he stares up at me. 

“I can’t…” There’s a hoarse scratch to my voice as I stare back at him. “I can’t lose… we can’t do this.”

“We just did.”

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader word count: 1k a/n: i hadn't considered that this was one of my absolute top tier fantasies until someone requested it. i got a bit carried away (this could have easily been a 6k nightmare), so please have arthur and you getting drunk, him defending your honour, and then swiftly claiming it as his own cw: dry humping, dubcon/noncon, drunk sex, unconscious sex, drunk consent so not really consent, lil bit of violence in the bar between arthur and some guy 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

“So… is this the beginning of our courtship, Mr Morgan?”

You focused your eyes on Arthur’s, picking out the different flecks of blue tones in them with a dreamy smile, disguised as a teasing, mischievous grin, you hoped.

“It is not. I don’t court. And neither should you. We got worse things to worry about without adding the risk of you telling our secrets and plans to whoever has taken your fancy on a day-to-day business.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr Morgan! I don’t fall for just anyone. Flirtin’ and teasin’ just opens up doors to the likes of us. You should try it some time.”

“I think I’ll stick to the tried-and-true methods.”

His hand dropped to his waist, thumb stroking over the worn leather of his holster as he looked at you from below the brim of his hat.

“Hm… well, anyway. I’ll have you know that beyond that, I happen to only take a fancy to a very specific breed of man.”

“Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

You hesitated, not quite drunk enough to give yourself away yet. Instead, you lifted your drink and raised it to him, hoping to distract him from the conversation, smiling as he clinked his glass to yours with a confused face. He swallowed the brassy liquid in one quick gulp, and you attempted to do the same, coughing a little, but managing it better than you expected.

Only a few more of them and you were definitely losing yourself. Deciding to give Arthur an opportunity to lust after you, to take you in safely from a distance as he decided what he might do with you, you offered to get the next round.

He nodded at the suggestion, watching as you stood up, staggering to the side and catching your balance on the back of the chair. When you finally found your feet, you swayed from side to side before attempting to walk to the bar. Arthur watched you shambling, but your inebriated state had also drawn the attention of others, and one of them decided to chance his luck.

The stranger who had sidled up to you began to offer you dull compliments, his hands touching and grabbing at you despite your protests.

“Get your hands off of me, you uncouth pissant.”

That wasn’t enough though. It only encouraged him, as though you were a challenge for him to conquer. So, you kicked it up a little.

“Listen, if you don’t start mindin’ your fuckin’ manners, I’ll make you real sorry.”

“Oh yeah? And how you gonna do that?”

You lifted your foot, bringing it back down on top of his with a great deal of force, enough that he yelped and instinctively raised his fist. As you watched it head towards you, it was intercepted by Arthur, who caught it in his palm and returned the favour, not missing as his knuckles struck  the bottom of your assailant’s chin, knocking him down with one punch.

“God damn it… We gotta go.”

He’d noticed the associates of the man on the floor begin to get up from their table, intent no doubt on exacting revenge on his behalf. So, with his hand on your wrist, Arthur pulled you out of the bar to what he hoped would be safety. The alcohol hadn’t seemed to affect him at all, which was lucky considering how slow and clumsy you were. Deciding it wasn’t worth dragging you along, he ducked into a nearby barn and pushed you against the wall, pressing his body up to yours, close and warm, as he waited for the group of men to pass by on their search.

Arthur’s palm was over your mouth, stifling your drunken giggles, and when he removed it, you took your chance, leaning forward to kiss him. The adrenaline, the way your bodies were so closely held together in that dark, oddly romantic spot. It would have been foolish not to make your move.

“You really are dunk, ain’t ya?”

“Oh, most definitely, Mr Morgan. But that just means I’m able to make very bad decisions with a clear conscience.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, and while he initially raised his hands in protest, he sank into how good it felt to have some physical affection. He knew it was wrong to take advantage of the situation, but the way you had begun grinding against him, pressing your hips to his, served to spur him on. If you could make bad decisions, then he could too.

Pushing you back against the wall again, and regaining his natural control, Arthur began grinding his body into yours, his strong arms holding you, pinning you against the worn, wooden panels as his hips bumped against you. His lips moved from yours to your cheek, messily searching for your neck. As he peppered the skin with kisses, he groaned, body still working into yours. You had been moaning, but every so often, the sound was dimmed as you dipped in and out of consciousness, the effects of the alcohol threatening to send you into a deep sleep, causing you to miss this moment with Arthur.

He, however, was unable to stop himself, despite you no longer being as involved as he would like. It felt too good, to enjoy this feeling with another person for a change. To have someone on the other end, not just laying face down in his tent, bucking his hips into his fist as he stroked his own cock. Besides, he felt he deserved it, a reward for defending your honour. Even if that meant he was slowly taking it for his own, cock twitching as he reached his inevitable climax, his seed spilling inside of his, thankfully, dark pants. In the dim light of the evening no one would be able to see the mess he had made of himself.

As he stepped back, you slumped forward, caught by him quickly and tossed over his shoulder so he could walk you back to camp. He hadn’t decided if he was going to put you in your own tent or let you join him in his yet. That was another bad decision he could make when he had to.

[luvyeni]

KARINA DRABBLE !

pairings. sistersbestfriend!karina x fem!reader

🔖: 18+ , usage of a vibrator , fingering, a little boob play , dirty talk

authors note ! this is for the 6k drabble special , you can read all of them here ! this is the last one , i hope you guys liked them , i had fun writing them <3!

you couldn't help the attraction you had for your older sister bestfriend , she was kind and always took up for you when your sister would yell at you. on top of that , she was hot and you couldn't help but feel things when she would touch your thigh under the table.

biting your lip , trying to suppress your moans , late in the early morning as you pressed your vibrator to your clit , toying with your nipples , imagining it was her.

"look at my cute kitten." her voice rang all through out your head. "touching herself." there she was , making her way into your room , sitting down on your bed. "where you thinking of me?" she smirked.

"i-im sorry." you close your legs , terrified to look her in the eyes. "you're so cute , spread your legs for me kitten." you hesitantly opened your legs. "look at that your pretty little clit is all puffy , you need help princess. " you definitely weren't passing this up shyly nodded.

karina smiled , picking up your vibrator , sitting in between your legs. "it's okay kitten , i'll help you." she rubbed your clit with her fingers , before pressing the vibrator on your nub. "ji-jimin , fuck." you moaned. "you have to be quite kitten , you don't want your sister to hear do you?"

she wasn't making it any better , pushing two fingers into your hole , turning the vibrator on. "your pussy is so wet , got this wet just from thinking about me?" you nodded , toying with your nipples. "ju-just for you , only for you." she smiled. "only for me 'hm? " she sped up her fingers.

"oh fuck!" you covered your mouth , moans still slipping through. "that's good , my pretty kitten should only play with her pretty pussy while thinking about me , you understand?" she pressed down harder on your clit. "sh-shit yes jimin , im gonna cum." she leaned over , kissing your needy lips.

"go a head , kitten , cum on my fingers." you moaned , squeezing your tits as you came , your juices coating her fingers. "you listened so well kitten." she pulled her fingers out , bringing them to her lips , tasting you. "mmh kitten." she moaned. "you taste so sweet."

she climed back up , kissing your neck , grinding her clothed heat into yours. "so-so pretty , my pretty kitten." she whispered. "ji-jimin , please." she took one of your hands , bringing it to her boobs. "you want me to fuck you , make you cum again." you nodded. "i want words kitten." you mewled. "ye-yes jimin , i want you to fuck me , please." she kissed your lips once more.

"good kitten , listen so well , don't i'll fuck you real good."

©️LUVYENI

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟐: 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓!

𝐂𝐖: reader gets stalked and promptly has a panic attack

𝐀/𝐍: guys i did it! i finally got the next chapter out! (she announces to the crowd that has been sitting in the stands for like, three weeks or something)

𝐖𝐂: 6k

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: @arienic

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

once again, the weeks seemed to pass by like a blur. this time, however, it was a good blur. ivy and the girls who were suspended eventually came back to regular classes, but when they returned, their reputations were less than savory now in the student body. needless to say, you were left alone, and for the most part, you were met with somewhat friendly faces—at least, the same amount you would’ve had before the drama.

it was like you were back to living a “normal” teenage life again. you had a normal house, you went to a normal school, you had (somewhat) normal friends, and you had a decently normal reputation. for once, in a long time, you didn’t feel like there were eyes on you. not from a self-acclaimed gang. not from obsessive girls.

not from behind the tinted windows of a dark idled car.

soon enough winter break had come and passed, and it wasn’t until well into spring that something interesting happened again (aside from your friends’ general shenanigans, which seemed to always be there as a form of entertainment).

you actually were quite fine with nothing interesting happening, but it seemed general drama was something you never can escape when you're a teenager, whether you wish upon it or not. so when whisperings of prom coming up meet your ears you think the drama that ensues will pass right by you, especially since it was only the upperclassmen who got to go.

but, of course, that was not the case.

“kate?”

your usually confident and thick-skinned friend zoned out at her reflection in the mirror, not really staring at herself but instead seeming to be in a distant world as you washed your hands. normally, you wouldn’t question the behavior. you yourself were not immune to zoning out and daydreaming from time to time.

but this was different.

katelyn usually had so much energy, and she always seemed to be in the present, ready for the next thing and on to the next subject to talk about. but she had been quiet all day today, barely managing any smiles and seeming absent from every conversation your friends had. it had been a month since she’d told you the news that she and jeffory had broken up, and while she definitely seemed upset, she had held up pretty well in acting like she wasn’t.

it was a little unnerving seeing her like this.

“katelyn.” you call for her again, your previous ask for attention seeming to have gone completely over her head.

“hm?” she hums, taking a full five seconds to turn her attention to you.

“what’s wrong?”

she blinks, shaking her head. “nothing.”

you note the dark circles under her eyes.

“kate.” you sigh, turning fully to her and leaning on the sink, giving her a knowing look. “you gonna hide something from me of all people?”

her nose twitches, the tip of it turning red as her bright blue eyes gloss over.

“…jeffory and i were supposed to go,” she says, her voice breaking as she blinks away her tears, showing you a prom flyer that had been crumpled in her hand.

“oh...” you murmur.

how does one comfort a friend in a situation like this? she hadn’t even told you the reason for their break up, merely saying it was “complicated” and that it was pretty peaceful. still, she seemed so upset about it even now. she suddenly brings a hand to her mouth, shaking her head as she tries to keep her strong front. very quickly it’s crumbling though, and you sigh her name at the sight. stepping forward, you pull her into a hug, one she quickly reciprocates with a shaky sniffle.

“oh, kate. it’s okay.”

the bathroom door squeaks and you quickly spin her to where her back faces whatever girls came in, hiding her teary face from sight. it’s probably very clear something was up, but you could only hope it’s not too noticeable.

“what’s going on in here?” teony’s voice curiously carries through the air like wind chimes.

lucinda comes after, her tone teasing as the clicks of her heels approach the other side of you. “a cute girl group hug with no invite…?”

both of the girls lose their steam when they catch a glimpse of katelyn’s expression, their faces falling into concern.

teony sighs. “oh, no. what happened?”

katelyn merely shakes her head, resting her cheek on your shoulder as she hunches over you like a wilted flower. turning your head to them, you point down at the prom flyer that had flitted down to the ground with a small grimace.

“aw, katelyn. you shouldn’t be crying over this…” teony says, reaching forward to rest her hand on the weeping girl’s shoulder.

“no, she shouldn’t.”

you raise your eyebrows at lucinda’s blunt lack of sympathy in her response, her lips pursing as katelyn’s watery eyes glance over to her with a sniffle.

“katelyn, snap out of it. it's been a while since you guys have split up. you need to pick yourself back up.”

you blink wide-eyed at the ginger, eyes flicking to teony who sighs under her breath.

“now, lucinda, you know—-”

the bathroom door squeaks again, and aphmau’s cheery smile skips right on in, happy hums leaving her mouth.

“oh, there you guys are! guess who just got asked to prom!” she cheers, freezing with an abrupt click of her heels on the tile when her eyes land on katelyn’s.

katelyn’s breaths shake before she once more breaks down into tears, slumping over your shoulder.

the three of you shoot an annoyed “are you for real?” look to the freshman, one she returns with a sheepish squirm and awkward smile when she realizes her blunder. slowly she walks up to your and katelyn’s sides, hugging onto the both of you.

“i’m sorry! don’t cry, don’t cry! shhh…”

lucinda rolls her eyes with a groan, before very suddenly pulling you and aph away from kate and lightly shoving her shoulder back, making the girl stumble. “alright katelyn, that is enough! where is that spunky girl who wants to kick my ass all the time? come on, girl. don't you want to fight?!”

katelyn frowns, her puffy lips pouting in annoyance as she catches her footing and shoots a glare at the sudden… attack.

what kind of comforting method is this, luci? you deadpan, looking to the other two girls who seem equally as taken aback.

“lucinda, i don’t think now is the time–” aph starts, before jumping at katelyn’s sudden grunt of annoyance.

“fine! let’s go!” she starts, beginning to march quite aggressively toward the girl.

this may be the most bizarre therapy session you’ve ever witnessed.

“that's the spirit.” lucinda grins, seeming to get hyped at the return of katelyn’s hot-headedness as she lightly bounces on her heels. “come at me, bro! we'll fight until your arms become marshmallows.”

the blue-haired girl’s steps stutter and her shoulders slump, her determination immediately deflating. “jeffory... loved marshmallows.”

“really?!” lucinda throws her arms up in exasperation. “you’re joking!”

“great job. you made it worse.” aphmau deadpans, before shimmying up to katelyn’s side and pulling her into a hug once again. “it’s okay, come here. let me hold you, kate…”

lucinda rolls her eyes. “aphmau, we can't baby her through this!”

“it’s not babying, she’s in her feels!”

“alright, ladies!” teony suddenly says, sounding similar to a judge calling for order. “that’s enough. i know what needs to be done!”

you’re unbelievably grateful for teony’s aptitude for leadership—especially in this moment.

“lucinda, it's not babying. katelyn needs our help, and we need to be there for her,” she says, hands on her hips and an assertive expression on her face. “after school today we’ll go on a friend date with the whole group to get her mind off of things. a little pick-me-up, if you will.”

“i guess you're right… it does break my heart to see katelyn like this.” lucinda sighs, her bristled front melting to show the spark of concern in her eyes as her own shoulders slump. “we have to do something.”

katelyn looks around at the four of you, wiping her nose with her hand and sniffling before reluctantly nodding. “alright, i guess…”

you shoot her a sympathetic smile, placing your hand on her arm. “there you go.”

aphmau hums, looking over to teony. “so, what are we going to do?”

the academic weapon grins, a plan seeming to have already brewed in her mind. “don’t you guys worry. i’ve gotten it all figured out. just meet me in the parking lot after school.”

☆

“the mall?” you raise your eyebrows, glancing around at the amount of people who seem to be in on this. did teony call the whole avengers squad for this?

not only was the obvious here—teony, lucinda, katelyn, and aphmau—but somehow from this afternoon when teony made the plan she also wrangled nicole, nana, garroth, laurance, and vylad, as well as… dante and travis? this is… an interesting mix for sure. though, based on the passive looks on nicole and nana’s faces, they don’t seem too bothered by the blue haired flirt being present in the group. that’s good, at least.

“yep! a friend group date is long overdue anyways, right?” teony grins, patting a still downcasted katelyn on the back as she walks to her car, sitting a wink over to aphmau. “plus, i promised aphmau i’d take her for a ride in my car sometime.”

“really?” aph gasps, running over to the yellow convertible in excitement. “i can ride with you?”

“mhm, and there’s room for one more…” she shoots you a pointed look, waggling her brows in suggestion.

from the corner of your eye you see nana, her fangs peeking from her bottom lip as she looks at teony’s cute bug in wonder. aw.

“that’s okay. it looks like nana really wants to go with you. i can catch a ride with someone else.”

the meif’wa squeaks in surprise, looking between you and teony with sparkles in her eyes, before hugging onto your arm. “really?”

“well aren’t you sweet?” she tilts her head affectionately, waving over the meif'wa. “come on, then!”

“guess i’m just chopped liver.” nicole scoffs, crossing her arms as she watches the girls run ahead.

“you can ride with me, sweetie,” lucinda coos, waving her keys between her polished fingers before glancing to you. “my car’s a two seater, though. sorry, i guess you’re stuck with the boys.”

“stuck with us? she’s pretty lucky!” dante protests, appearing next to you quite suddenly.

nicole snorts, not even glancing back at him as she continues walking. “you keep telling yourself that, bud.”

you raise an eyebrow as he visibly deflates.

travis snickers from behind the two of you. “damn. you just took that, huh?”

“oh, shut up.” he sighs, turning and delivering a weak looking chop to the other boy's stomach.

shaking your head, you look over to the more reliable ones of the group. “so… can i ride with one of you?”

“duh, of course you can.” laurance smiles, reaching over to pat your hair. “garroth has been driving a cadillac suv, so we have enough room for everyone.”

the nepo baby in question sighs at laurance’s dramatic jazz hands as he mentions the luxury car brand. “it’s my mom’s.”

“okay, well i was literally an orphan in foster care—”

“why do you do this to me?”

“i call shotgun!” dante calls, dashing around to the passenger side before garroth can even unlock the suv.

“hope you don’t mind sitting next to me?” vylad nudges you with his elbow, his round cheeks squishing into a dimpled smile.

“of course not.” you round to the other side, jumping up into the back seat as vylad gets in himself.

“scooch, you.” laurance taps at your legs, pointing at the middle seat.

“sure,” you shimmy over, only to nearly get clocked in the face by travis’s shoe as he crawls over vylad to get to the very back seats. “damn!”

“my–! bad–!” the braced teen grunts, a small thud coming from behind you as he flops down between the seat and the floorboard. “ah!”

“you could’ve just asked me to move the seat.” vylad laughs, glancing back without much concern at the boy. “you’re just as bad as zane is, making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“i know he’s your brother, so no offense, but please don’t compare me to him.”

“...none taken.”

“oh, yeah. speaking of which, where's zane?” you speak up, looking from vylad to the oldest ro’meave brother.

“he was feeling kinda sick today, so he stayed home. had a cold, i think,” he says, pausing before looking at you through the rearview mirror. “by the way, is katelyn… okay? teony told me she kinda put together this whole hangout to lift her spirits.” 

“yeah… she just got kinda upset now that everyone’s talking about prom since she and jeffory were supposed to go together.”

you jump as travis’s hands slap onto your headrest, his messy white hair appearing from behind you as he gasps at the news. “wait, she’s single now?!”

genuinely you cannot stop yourself from slapping your palm right onto your forehead.

“calm yourself,” laurance scoffs. “she won’t be jumping into your arms anytime soon.”

“anytime soon, but it could be anytime,” he meekly says under his breath, tapping his fingers gently onto the headrest.

“learn from me and i bet you could bag her easy.” dante smugly turns around wagging his brows.

“you fumbled not one, but two cute girls at the beginning of this year,” you deadpan, crossing your arms and leaning forward with a stink eye. “travis doesn’t need a single crumb of advice from you.”

laurance starts to snicker from behind you as dante’s face falls into a pout before he slightly recovers, gathering some dignity. “hey, but i got them.”

“and then fumbled,” vylad adds, the simple and cheerful tone of his voice making garroth and travis join in on the laughter.

you’re unable to hide your amusement as well, especially when you see even dante cracking—the corners of his lips wobbling. “okay, yeah. damn, you got me. but i did learn from that. i actually don’t feel good about it.”

“good, you shouldn’t,” garroth scoffs, reaching over to flick the side of dante’s head.

after more… interesting topics truly only teenage boys could conjure up in the car, you were finally at the mall and stepping onto the tiled floors of the building. light filtered from the huge skylights above through the tree and garden installations in the center of the large building, the sight refreshing through all the different smells and noises of the shops around. 

your feet quicken their pace as you race up to katelyn’s side, linking your arm with hers as your voice lowers to a whisper. “how do you feel?”

bright blue eyes dart to yours, the whites of her eyes still a bit red and irritated from her earlier upset. she opens her mouth to speak, before shrugging with a quiet sigh. “i appreciate the thought, but i don’t know how i feel about everyone being here right now. i feel like it’s obvious i’m upset. it’s kind of embarrassing.”

you shake your head, lightly pushing into her. “don’t be embarrassed. we’re all here because we want to hang out with you and make you feel better. a lot of people don’t have good friend groups like this. i know i didn’t before i came here.”

she looks down, seeming to let the words soak in before she glances back to the rest of your friends, a small smile tugging on her lips. “yeah… it’s been a while since i’ve hung out with some of those dorks, anyways.”

a wave of relief washes over you, and you thank whatever part of your brain that managed to conjure up the eloquence to say something successfully comforting. “that’s the spirit.”

“um, hi, katelyn!” travis rushes up to her other side, making her jump in surprise.

“oh, hey…”

“i know you’re feeling down, and i just wanted to say—i mean, ask! are you an angel?”

“huh?” she blinks.

“cause you must have fallen straight from heaven.”

“wh—“ she stutters, before a few chuckles leave her lips. “you can’t be serious. that’s the lamest joke in the book.”

travis’s eyes widen and his shoulders seem to stiffen up in confidence, the boy seeming to be energized by her smile. cute. 

“i… i’m trash!”

“what?” she laughs in confusion.

“so can you take me out?”

katelyn continues to giggle, her laughter lightly carrying through the air. “that’s a good one.”

“are you a camera? cause i smile every time i look at you.”

the smile on katelyn’s face lasts for most of the ventures through the mall, her mind seeming well distracted from running through the arcade to eating snacks from the vendors—until your group walked by an outlet store with their beautiful prom attire on display.

“ooh, look at those pretty dresses!” nana suddenly squeals, pointing to the display with all different kinds of dresses in the window. “aw… i wanna go to—”

aphmau, who’d been eyeing the dresses herself at the front of the group, spins on her heels with wide eyes and sends a high pitched “mew!” to the meif’wa.

lucinda looks up from her phone, a quizzical look on her face. “why you just… meow?”

“she’s stopping her from mentioning prom cause of jeff—”

you stop in your tracks, waving your hands wildly. really?!

teony bites her lip, slowly shrugging up her shoulders with a guilty look on her face. “oops…”

for as smart teony is, she totally slipped that up!

kate looks down, and the whole group freezes up, almost seeming to collectively hold their breaths. after a few moments of tense silence, her voice comes out… uncharacteristically quiet. “i’m done with the mall for today.”

no, no, no! she was doing so good!

“uh, the park!” you blurt, causing the whole group to turn to you rather than the fresh coat of tears gathering in katelyn’s eyes. “i think after all this time inside we should go enjoy the park. it’s just down the road.”

“good plan,” laurance smoothly says, clapping garroth’s shoulder as the boy tosses his keys up in his hand—the rest of the group slowly nodding along. “a walk would be nice.”

☆

and it was a good plan. a breath of fresh air in the warm spring breeze leaving not much to think about except for the large old trees overhead and the people nearby playing… volleyball!

it seems teony had the same idea, as she very quickly suggested a quick little match to get katelyn’s spirits lifted again. glancing up at the girl, your shoulders sag when you see the disinterested look on her face as she shrugs.

“i don’t really feel like playing right now,” she mutters, making teony’s draw drop in shock.

“well, i see those kids over there playing soccer. i’m gonna join them if anyone else wants to,” laurance says with a small wave, prompting aphmau and vylad to eagerly follow as he jogs over to the nearby field. travis stares at katelyn for a few moments longer as dante runs off after them, the boy’s eyes round with worry before he reluctantly starts walking over, too.

lucinda scoffs. “okay, katelyn, are you really—”

“we’ll be right back,” you quickly interrupt, looping your arm with the heart-aching girl and beginning to walk over towards the bridge nearby before lucinda can use any more of her “tough-love” tactics.

the stone bridge was beautiful, and the architecture seemed like it had been built long ago, though new supporting renovations had been made since then. you lean onto the railing and stare down into the lazy flowing river below, the gentle sounds of the water going along the riverbank filling the silence between the two of you. katelyn leans over, too, staring down at her warped reflection down below and letting the wind flick her hair wherever it decided.

“why’d you both break up?” you ask quietly, studying her side profile as you wait for an answer. 

katelyn truly was pretty, her straight nose and starking eyes framed by powder blue hair, and a few stray freckles dotting her pale cheeks. on top of that, she was a good friend–despite her occasional hot-headedness–and was pretty strong in her loyalty. from what you saw from jeffory, you can’t imagine he’d have done something to hurt her, but you’re kind of tired of not knowing the whole story, either.

“i… i was the one who broke up with him,” she whispers, sniffling as tears begin to stream down her face.

you frown. so it wasn’t a mutual thing. “why?”

“he just—it’s gonna sound so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid. you don’t cry over nothing.”

she lets out a deep sigh, swiping away the tears from her cheeks in an attempt to compose herself. “he was just too nice.”

…

“huh?”

she looks over, shrugging as her chin wobbles. “i dunno. i just kinda felt bad about myself when i was with him. and it’s not fair to him 'cause that’s not his fault that he’s so perfect.”

you’re speechless for a good few moments. “what are you talking about? like, you don’t think you’re good enough for him or something?”

her head dips down, a shaky breath leaving her lips. “no, it’s… like i can do no wrong when i’m with him, even when i’m clearly in the wrong on something, he just agrees with me on everything and never has an opinion on anything.”

understanding dawns on you, and you slowly nod. “he was a great boyfriend, but your personalities just didn’t mesh.”

she looks up at you eagerly, nodding. “yeah. i need someone who can, i don’t know, challenge me? contrast my… stubbornness.”

you snort. “y—”

“yes, i’m admitting to it,” she quickly cuts you off, a small smile wobbling through her tear-stricken face. “i know i can be pretty hard-headed, and i need someone who won’t just let me push them over on everything.”

“i understand,” you say, reaching out your arm to pat her back. it trembled with every shaky breath she took.

“thank you.” she sniffles. “i just… feel so guilty about it. and i am upset, i really liked him—do like him. he’s so sweet and deserves the best and i just feel like i can’t give that to him.”

at that, she seems to break apart again. she’s really holding all of this on her shoulders.

“oh, kate. you don’t need to feel guilty about it. some things are just not meant to work out, and it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. you both could even still be friends after all of this, i’m sure of it. he won’t hate you for this.”

her shoulders wrack. “i know he won’t, which is why i feel so bad!”

“shh, just breathe.” you worry, rubbing her back some more. “here, i’ll go grab you some water so you can calm yourself a bit, okay?”

she gives you a weak nod, letting her hair fall to hide her face as she lets her teardrops fall down into the river. you let yourself stand for a moment to watch her, your heart squeezing for your poor friend as her mind continued to batter her emotions into a pulp.

as you turn to make your walk, you’re intercepted by garroth, who seemed to have idly waited by the edge of the bridge, looking on in worry. “hey…”

“hey.” you sigh, glancing back at kate–who was still hunched over the stone railing–and back at the blond. “she’s really going through it.”

“yeah, i can tell.” he frowns, his eyebrows pulled together. “do you think… uh…”

you tilt your head at his sudden sheepishness. “hm?”

“i was thinking of a friend to invite with me as my plus one to prom, and i honestly was debating asking you… but i was thinking maybe inviting katelyn would be nice. to take her mind off of jeffory,” he says, and your eyebrows shoot up on your forehead.

“wait, what? but i thought only sophomores and juniors get to go.”

“i'm only going because my teacher is on the host staff and asked me to help.” he shrugs. “plus, i get extra credit for it.”

“oh… that makes sense,” you murmur.

“yeah, sorry. guess i shouldn’t have told you i thought about inviting you only to say sike! nevermind!” he snorts, his voice turning comically goofy at the end and consequently making you burst into giggles.

“oh, my feelings are so hurt, garroth. how could you break my heart like this? i’m just a second choice to you?”

he shakes his head, his prince charming smile wide on his face. “no, no! never! my sincerest apologies.”

your amusement calms, and you pat his arm. “seriously, i think that’s a good idea, actually.

“okay. i thought it would be nice, but i wanted your opinion first. didn’t want to make things worse, you know?” he scratches his head, glancing over to kate.

“yeah. and it is really nice. you’re so sweet, garroth.”

the tips of his ears slowly turn red, his eyes darting down to the sidewalk. “thanks…”

“well, maybe you can go talk to her now. i’m gonna get her some water real quick.”

he nods, blond curls bouncing along with his head. “yeah, yeah, okay. i’ll go do that.”

you watch with a fond smile as he jogs over to katelyn, his hand gently ruffling her hair and making her jump in place. he was so thoughtful.

the vending machines near the restrooms wasn’t much further, and you glance over to watch just as laurance was completely demolishing those kids and scoring another goal on them. this was the same one you had gone to grab a water for zane, when he’d gotten hit in the face with aphmau’s lethal soccer kick. you wonder if he’s still looking up to gene, or if maybe he’s grown out of whatever horrid phase he was in.

you chuckle under your breath at the thought of the little emo ro’meave. though, little was an understatement. at the rate he’s been seeming to grow, he might even manage to end up taller than garroth. still, his attitude is enough to make him little in your eyes, as hilariously demeaning that sounded. you’re sure if you said it to the boy’s face he’d throw a whole string of insults your way.

as you wrinkle your nose at how fondly you thought of the little brat, your eyes catch jet black sitting in the parking lot ahead, its engine idling lowly. your blood drains from your face as you freeze in place, breaths shortening as your eyes slowly drift up to confirm what you just saw.

suv. jet black paint. jet black windows. dark headlights. facing right at you.

no. that’s not them. breathe.

why is it on? who’s in there?

“just act normal. i’m okay. i’m okay,” you mutter under your breath, shakily taking in your next breath as your finger slips and you click for a gatorade instead of water. “shit.”

you tear your eyes away from the vehicle, bending down to grab the drink with trembling hands before quickly standing again and looking ahead once again.

there’s a man. where have you seen him before? he looks so familiar. tan… dark eyes from what you could see in the distance you were at… brown hair… kinda tall. he looks pretty average, but you can swear you’ve seen him before. and he’s looking right at you.

the gas station. when you’d been there with gene. you’d seen the same suv then, too.

your heartbeat picks up, hands going cold and sweaty and throat tightening.

is that him? the one from before? did he find you again? why is he showing his face to you now?! IT’S HIM!

it almost felt like you were outside of your body, your face and limbs gone completely numb as you held eye contact with him. your vision blurs, and you can barely keep track of him as he slowly walks over to the passenger side of the black vehicle. as you blink to regain your sight, you see that that blank look on his face is gone, instead replaced with a taunting smile as he tilts his head.

IT’S HIM. CALL FOR HELP. SCREAM FOR GARROTH, KATELYN, SOMEONE.

one of your hands reach up from the gatorade, tightly gripping onto the locket zianna had given you.

a boy walks up to the man, standing just shorter than him. he was a werewolf. silver piercings on his ears glinting in the sun and a streak of blue running through his bangs.

who is he? he looks young. but is he in on it? he could be. was that his son?

his eyes shift to you, and you watch as they widen at you, his expression shifting into something… uncomfortable? scared? you can’t quite place it, your own brain going too haywire to associate anything with anything else. he turns from you and quickly gets into the car, not giving you a second glance.

you can’t hear anything but ringing in your ears and the sharp breaths that you struggled to take in. the man slowly opens up the passenger door, before slinking into the vehicle and disappearing inside.

you hear your name muffled against your left side, before a firm grip clasps on your shoulder.

“no!” you shout, whipping towards your assailant and whacking their arm away, stumbling back as the gatorade falls to the ground, rolling from your feet.

garroth stands shocked, his hand still held out to you and eyes wide. katelyn, stood a step behind him, has an almost identical expression. 

“woah… it’s just me,” he says, voice low and eyebrows pulling together. “why are you so scared?”

you blink rapidly, shaking your head and looking back to the vehicle. garroth and katelyn follow your line of sight, and as their eyes land on the suv it backs out of its spot, before quickly driving away.

“what? who was that?” katelyn mutters.

you shake your head. it’s so hard to breathe.

garroth’s hands land on your shoulders again, and instead of fear you feel comforted by their strength. you tear your eyes from the empty parking spot, looking up at him.

“please. talk to us. you said we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other anymore.”

katelyn picks up the gatorade, pointing to the nearby bench. “she looks like she’s having a panic attack, or on the verge of it. let’s let her breathe for a second.”

garroth’s face twists in guilt, before he slowly nods. “yeah, sorry.”

guiding you over to the seat, he sits next to you while katelyn takes the spot on your other side. you stare forward at the field, listening to the distant sound of your friends’ cheers and shouts as they run around in the grass. it takes a while. a minute. or two. maybe even five or ten. you’re not sure. garroth and katelyn don’t speak, letting silence sit between the three of you and merely exchanging worried glances when you take in a particularly sharp breath. finally, your breaths calm to a slow pace and your shoulders slightly relax, letting you slump back to rest on the bench properly.

“...i moved back here. because of him,” you say, voice more hoarse and whispered than you expected it to be.

“him?” katelyn asks, her head whipping to look back to the parking spot like the suv would still be there. “in that car?”

you nod slowly.

garroth sighs, his eyes trailing down to the necklace that you still had clutched between your fingers. you didn’t even realize you were still holding onto it. stiff fingers release the locket from its confines, your nails leaving deep imprints on your palms.

“i don’t know everything… but my mom kind of told me the reason why you were here. that you had a stalker?”

katelyn quickly looks back at you. “what?”

you take in a deep breath. “yeah. it was that same vehicle. i’ve been seeing it again. i keep thinking i’m just overreacting but…”

you gulp, blinking more tears away again. “i think it’s the same from before. i don’t know how they found me. he found me. i thought i could at least be safe for a year—”

“you are safe,” garroth says, wrapping his arm loosely around your shoulder. the firm and sure way he said it almost makes you believe it. “as long as you’re with us, you’re safe.”

katelyn nods. “i… had no clue. but garroth’s right. we won’t let anything happen to you.”

you shake your head slowly, folding your legs up to your chest. “it’s been happening for so long. i’m so tired of being scared.”

“...why haven’t you told any of us yet?” katelyn murmurs, setting her arm on top of garroths as she also hugs you.

“i didn’t want to draw attention. plus, i didn’t want anyone to know. i wanted to leave it all behind. start over. but he won’t let me.” your nose pricks as tears fall down your cheeks again.

garroth sighs under his breath, the sound tense and almost… angry?

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, glancing up at katelyn before resting his cheek on your head. “i hate seeing you so scared, but i’m glad you told us. from the sound of it you can’t ignore it anymore, and you need us to help and protect you.’

“and we will,” kate adds.

you stare blankly ahead at the field, and take in a deep breath when you see laurance looking over, squinting to get a better look at the three of you with a frown on his face.

“please don’t tell anyone. you can tell our close friends, but i want this to stay a secret...”

“of course,” garroth quickly says. “wasn’t even thinking of telling them until you said anything. this is more than just a small secret.”

katelyn nods, her voice quiet as she seems to process everything. “yeah…”

“and don’t treat me differently,” you mutter, finally looking them in the eyes. “okay?”

they both nod, eyebrows pulled together.

you sigh, looking forward again. “so. you going to prom together?”

garroth guffaws and kate makes an audible noise of shock.

“you just told us the most traumatizing ongoing experience of your life, and that’s how you ease out of that conversation?”

“are you?”

katelyn slowly nods, trying to calm her face into a more pleasant expression. “yeah… garroth actually made me laugh with that stupid voice he does.”

“the hur-dee-dur one?”

garroth laughs, not sounding all that amused but still giving an attempt at it. “yep, that one.”

“good. i’m glad. i think it’ll be fun.”

he nods. “yeah. you know… laurance is a part of the helping crew too. maybe he can take you and we can all go together. that would be a lot of fun, huh?”

you stare in thought, noticing that the boy himself was starting to walk over from the field. you hadn’t even let the thought of attending prom cross your mind, but the thought of dressing up with your friends at a party you technically weren’t supposed to be at sounded like something from the teenage experience you had been craving since you got here.

“yeah. that would be fun.”

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch

[fitztragedy]

Ranking my own fics

I've had writers block for almost a year now so I decided to go down memory lane and re read all my Rivusa fics to see if I should go back to writing them or if the mood is officially dead. And then list/rank/rec them here in case any of you are interested in my thoughts of my own writing.

I decided to keep this list to just shippy rivusa fics that are over 6k words because otherwise it'd be a huge post.

Gonna be a long post so it's all under the cut! I'm curious to see what you guys think of them or if you agree with my order. And if you think I should go back to writing those two.

1st place: TEMPTING FATE (collab with @septemberrie)

I feel like this one is obvious. It's by far the most popular of my fics and one that I never get tired of re-reading. It was so fun to write and make the arts for and I loved working with Skye on it. I still get butterflies when I read all the comments, it truly warms my heart to know so many people loved it. We still get the odd comment here and there of people re-reading or reading for the first time and it makes my day whenever I see those. This fic not only holds a dear place in my heart because of all of this but it truly is, for me, the best written out of the list. I'm not very good with descriptions and since english is not my first language I feel like sometimes my dialogue comes across a bit stiff, but since this was a collab with Skye, she filled in where my weaknesses were lacking and the result was a masterpiece.

2nd place: THIN WALLS (collab with @theperfectrose)

It started as my first attempt at a multichap fic written by myself and soon I realised I did need help so I brought Iva in and I'm so glad! The result was something I'm super proud of and I also love re-reading it. It has around the same wordcount as Tempting Fate, and it's also a rom-com type fic, but it only has half the hits, kudos and comments, so if you liked TF and don't know this one I'd say maybe give it a shot and let me know what you think?

3rd place: TIRED OF PRETENDING (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

In all honesty I had forgotten this existed until I re-read it and I'm so shocked I forgot about it because it's so good! The start of the fic is probably the best start of any of my fics. Mo was the first stranger-I-met-online I collabed with and it was such a nice experience, she brings such a depth of emotions in the descriptions and you can really feel it reading her fics (and collabs). I'll definitely not make the mistake of forgetting about this fic again. And I'll never be fixing that one very obvious editing mistake contained in it.

4th place: TOLERABLE

I consider this to be the most underated of my fics, because I think it's super good but it has very few hits/comments/kudos comparing to others that I don't love as much. Not only I wrote it all by myself but I really loved how it turned out, the dialogue and the descriptions, the worldbuilding and setting of the story, the way Riven and Musa slowly fall for eachother in a arranged marriage situation. I meant it when I said in the notes that I poured my heart and soul into this and I am proud of it and actually finishing it and posting. I keep thinking of coming back to it, add another chapter or another fic in this same universe because I love the premise of it, but because of the lack of feedback I'm not sure if people would actually read it or what they'd be interested in reading about. So if you do read it pls lemme know!

5th place: TAKING IT SLOW

This is me, dipping my toes in whump and going out of my comfort zone and I'm so proud of myself for doing so. I loved how this came out. I know I keep saying I'm proud of myself for the fics I've written but I really am. I'm very self concious and I'm always comparing myself to others, thinking what I do isn't as good or thinking I shouldn't keep doing something because others do it better. Even if I tell myself that I shouldn't write for others and I should do it for myself and not mind if a fic gets few comments or kudos a part of me will always look for validation. But re reading this fic made me feel so good about my own writing, genuinely proud that I did it. I love this fic so much.

(Here is where I realise my top 5 fics' titles all start with T for some reason??)

6th place: AN INNOCENT TRUST EXERCISE

I always think this is a lil' one shot that I wrote and an okay one but then I realise it's over 10k and really good? lol I guess I have a habit of forgetting my own fics. It's the first "big" fic that I wrote by myself and I remember being so happy about this fact. Re reading it I feel like it could be better, the pacing is a bit off and the ending doesn't really match the tone of the fic, the smut feels like it came out of nowhere and some bits are cringy to read. But I still love it. Maybe one day I'll go over it again and make some edits.

7th place: SHARK WEEK (collab with @gossipqueen2000)

I love this fic and I know a lot of people adore this too but I feel like it isn't as good as the others, maybe because it's been so long since I wrote it. I do still re-read it from time to time (maybe sometimes during that time of the month for me).

8th place: ANY WAY YOU WANT IT

This is more like a collection of one shots than an actual fic but I do like it a lot. Is it self-indulgent? yes, a lot. It is a collection of smut after all. I feel like my specialty is writing funny smut and I have a blast writing it, inserting comedy and fluff into sexy situations even being an ace person in real life, lol. I have a couple more wips for the next chapters but writers block is a bitch.

9th place: THE LAST RESORT (Colab with @septemberrie)

I'm only putting this this far down on the list because we just posted 1 chapter but I still love it. This was mine and Skye's second attempt at a rom-com type multichap fic after the success of Tempting Fate and I feel like it could have turned out amazing too, but life got in the way and we haven't managed to get back into it. If you think we should give this another try let us know!

10th place: I CAN FEEL YOU

I really like this one, but I'm putting it here in the list because it isn't just Rivusa. It's Rivusa + Sky, PWP. More focused on Sky than Rivusa. But I do really like the emotion I managed to write in this and I am proud of stepping a bit our of my comfort zone with this.

11th place: WHY NOT

I feel like this one is too basic, bland, not a lot of effort or emotion was put into it. I mean not all fics need to be deep and whatever and this one is basically just PWP, which is fine too. But idk it feels unfinished, like a first draft. The first half has too many characters and I feel like I get overwhelmed when I have to write that many voices at once so it's basically just dialogue with no description. And then it switches gears to just Riven and Musa and smut. Feels like 2 different fics glued together.

Honorable Mentions (Rivusa fics listed on my AO3 that fit the +6k words criteria I set for this post but that don't quite fit my ranking list):

EN GARDE: I don't really consider this my fic because @septemberrie wrote the majority of it, I just came in as a final push at the end, but I absolutely love it and I'm so happy she let me dip my little fingers on it and write a bit. Definitelly a must if you love period/medieval AUs.

A LADY'S GUIDE TO FOOLS AND FORTUNES: Another one I don't consider my fic but had a part in the making. It was written by the forever-amazing @septemberrie with art/gifs I made for the Reverse Big Bang event. I adore it and am so SO proud of the gifs I made. One of my best ones for sure.

REASSURANCE and JUST FOR YOU (both collabs with @gossipqueen2000 and AmandaLovegood): Both of these were witten back in 2021 when Fate had just come out. Feels like ages ago. I'm putting them here because I feel like they have more Mo and Amanda than Val to be honest, I don't really remember writing them or the process of it but I really like them a lot. Again Mo has this way of writing emotion and feelings and you can just tell it was her. It feels real and raw and so good to read, whump in the best way.

[thebest-medicine]

64 with ler Fjord & either Caleb or Molly? 🥺 dealers choice, but as soon as I saw that one I immediately thought of Fjord being a bully

Prompt 64 - “Relax, I’m not gonna kill ya, I’m just gonna make you wish you were dead.”

A/N: i love this for fjord. OMG. also, so… there’s this 6k ler!fjord lee!molly slightly fjolly decently mean interrogation fic im working on for tickletober and this line fit into it reaaaally well for a part where molly is in the stocks and… well… consider this my fic preview hehe (I’ll tag it here eventually when it’s posted in oct.)

,,,

“EheheHEHEHEHEEHEE- YOHOHOU’RE KILLIN’ MEEHEHEHEHE!” Molly whines through frantic laughter.

“Oh relax, don’t be so dramatic. I’m not gonna kill you.” Fjord speaks calmly, as though soothing a child. “I’m just gonna make you really, really wish you were dead.” His voice is sweet as the words drip out like honey, and Molly shivers from more than just the tickling sensations lighting up his soles.

“PFFFAHHAAHFUCK!” Molly cries — both in the sense of crying out aloud during his cackling, and in the other—more literal—sense, as tears bleed into the cloth tied over his eyes. He clasps and unclasps his fingers. He presses deeply into the seat and strains uselessly against the stocks — all for nothing. His laughter rings out boisterously as Fjord continues to scrub the brush up and down his foot, then switch to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. Overwhelming, but never enough to get desensitized to in any one place.

“PLEHEEHHEEASE!” Molly shrieks.

“What happened to that attitude of yours?” Fjord snickers, looking up from his feet to take in Mollymauk’s squirming, desperate form.

“Don’t knohohohHOOW! I dohOHON’T know wHERE—” Molly babbles incoherently, still trying to bargain with his captor.

“You don’t know where your attitude went?” Fjord laughs, pulling the brush away from his soles for the first time in far, far too long.

Molly heaves in deep, shaky breaths. “I- heh- I… What?”

Fjord hums, sounding amused. They sit in the ‘silence’ of Molly deliriously catching his breath.

“Maybe I should believe you…” Fjord says after a little time passes and Molly sounds less frenetic.

Molly tries to give his best hopeful, honest smile. It’s hard without the eyes.

Molly picks up the sound of Fjord getting up from his seat, a little relief washes over him.

Then the brush is back, and Mollymauk is wailing out a surprised bark of laughter. “WAITHAHAHA— WAIT!”

“But, on the other hand..” Fjord sighs, bringing his other hand to tickle along the sole of Molly’s right foot as he brushes up and down his left. Mollymauk almost wishes for a gag with how loudly he shouts and shrieks through desperate laughter. The hand and brush switch. They switch back a little while later.

“Hmm.” Fjord says, stopping again after a few minutes. “What do you think?”

“I thihihink I am going to die here.” Molly whimpers, smiling defeatedly.

“Not if you tell me the truth.”

“I am telling yohohohou the truth.”

“Well, I have to make sure you’re not lying.” Fjord says, and then the terrible brushing starts up again.

“Whyhyhyhyhy would I still behehehe lying- hehee?! Plehehehehease!” Molly argues as much as he can get out as he’s laughing.

“You tell me.” Fjord replies, not letting up. “Maybe you’re just a masochist.”

Molly definitely does not hate being on the receiving end of an evening like this, it’s true. He would take a moment to consider that if he had a brain cell that could focus on anything other than the incessant scrubbing of the hairbrush along his soles. It scrapes across the balls, the arches, the heel, up and down, up and down, over and over. The slick oily liquid covering his feet lets it glide with almost no resistance. All tickles, no resistance — yeah, Molly is probably going to die here.

He’s wheezing by the time Fjord stops again. He hesitates, half-pleading through his laughter, wondering when it’s going to start up again.

It doesn’t… And Fjord doesn’t say anything.

It still doesn’t… And then, finally, Fjord’s pulling down the blindfold. “Hey, there.”

Molly’s eyes adjust weakly to the light, the blindfold is damp with his tears. He mutters some kind of reply before closing his eyes again. “Fjord…”

“Mollymauk.” Fjord says, leaving the blindfold down around his neck and standing back up.

…

[UPDATE: read the full thing here!]

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read further CR drabbles on ao3]

[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!

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[project-sekai-facts]

As a person who hasn’t played any other rhythm game, why do you think prsk is so successful in a category where there are so many other games to choose from? I guess this would also relate to why you quit the other games you were playing?

hatsune miku.

also i think the story is project sekai is very engaging and generally much better than rhythm games in terms of writing quality and storytelling. i can't comment on bandori because i never got into the story, but compared to D4DJ, proseka is much more consistently good and deep. that's not to say there's anything wrong with D4DJ's more lighthearted overall tone aside from when it gets into questionable shit but sometimes it feels like there's no stakes even when the story tries to say that there are, and generally it's written more like a comedy slice of life than prsk's very realistic and heavier slice-of-life style.

the same can be said for SIF of which i read 6 chapters 3 years ago before skipping literally everything else. the stories were pretty simple again and obviously some people are gonna prefer that over prsk's sometimes more heavy-hitting tone but from a critical pov project sekai does have the better writing.

both the other franchises i mentioned do have really good writing at times. while love live is ultimately slice-of-life with comedy it does have some exceptional character writing, as does D4DJ. Some of the D4DJ stories released in the last year are also amazingly well-written and have dealt with much heavier topics and handled them really well. but that's enough of me gushing about those.

i think its interesting that while this game has always been pretty popular as a idol mobage outside asia, EN suddenly exploded last may-june and i'm not entirely sure why (i guess summer break in america and maybe some adverts and tiktok?). like i used to be able to T20K-30K by barely playing the events and suddenly i was getting T100Ks when I didn't change how i played at all.

Also like. not the best way to judge but when i first checked this fandom's ao3 page in february last year it had about 300 fics and it very suddenly started rapidly going into the 1000s starting that May-ish. like, very rapidly. as of posting this we're at 15516 (only 6k less than enstars which is a much older game) and two ships made it into AO3s top 100 this year so that's a very significant boom in popularity just to back up my bad tiering strats.

i also think tiktok definitely played a part in the game's EN popularity. i don't go there but the tiktok fanbase is huge, right? and then it runs on algorithm shit so people get that stuff on their FYP and download the game. word of mouth but digital style. also crossover with genshin somehow that i think has roots on that app.

the thing is that none of those directly have to do with why people would play proseka over the others and i think that's it. prsk has become an outright popular game outside of the idol-rhythm label. loads of people at my college know what hatsune miku: colorful stage is but barely any of them know enstars or bandori which are the other big names.

i think in someways it's less project sekai being the "preferred" game and more project sekai being the "known" game.

what the fuck did i just write i'm so sorry

[youwillfindilluminating]

Steddie Recs: Virgin!Eddie, Bottom!Eddie, and Eddie coming in his pants 👍

a little underrehearsed by theamazingbard - 

1.6k. A short, sweet fic of Virgin!Eddie. He comes over to Steve’s, determined not to come in his pants this time and they give each other HJs. He also has a line about wanting to count and kiss all of Steve’s freckles.

(The precurser to this is a tumblr ficlet found here.)

  hands of loving - by kafkian - 

5k. SO HOT. Virgin!Eddie and Steve offering to help out for his first time. This is so fluffy and hot and perfect. Once it gets going, it’s so good.  Pretty much everything you want in a fic like this.

  don’t start (too late) - by Ark - 

6k.  A lovely fic about Eddie bottoming for the first time. Ark is the one that got me into this ship (according to my notes when I first bookmarked this) so it makes sense that this made the cut!  It’s just pure fluff and smut and I love it to pieces.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, feeling dizzy. He’s full of Steve’s fingers and there’s starstuff in his blood. "Yes, please, that."

  listen closely by Adure -

3k. Three of Eddie’s first times with Steve. (Receiving a BJ, topping, and giving a BJ.)

"Just think about that place you like. The magical one."

"Magical one?"

"Y'know. To Margor."

"Oh, my god. You didn't just call it 'Margor'."

  edge of heaven by bdelaney - 

2k. YUM. This is a lovely fic of One-Minute-Munson being edged by Steve and it’s fluffy and hot!

  fear is fading fast by amiparanoidmuch (must be logged in to view) -

14k. I’m not gonna lie, I skipped to the end of this one just for the porn. I’m sure the rest is very good, but sometimes I’m not in the mood for all the setup and I’m weak!

This is very well-written, in-character, and super sweet. Virgin!Eddie. It’s so hot. And Eddie asking Steve to come on him will always make my brain explode.

"Look at you." He grabs Steve's hips, grinds up into him. "Fuck, if you knew what you did to me, Harrington. If you knew…"

Steve leans forward and grinds against Eddie. There's a brush of hardness against hardness, and God, Eddie isn't going to survive this.

  Fics where Eddie comes in his pants 💖:

that backseat afterglow - Adure - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

4k. This is…real, real hot. Steve gets a flat tire and the boys pick him up on their way when they’re helping Eddie move. There’s nowhere for him to sit except on Eddie’s lap. 👀

Steve feels him shift underneath him and he can't help it, whispers a quick "Fuck." and Eddie grips him a bit tighter. Possibly encouraged by Steve's own confusing reaction, how he's still leaning back against Eddie. Only startles slightly when he feels Eddie's dick flex and Steve didn't know it would feel like that against him and he swallows hard, wants to shift from side to side again.

  Roll for Orgasms by Agf.

4k. This is one of my favorite Steddie fics of all time. And there are so many great lines that just get you, and so many sweet and funny moments.

Technically Eddie comes in his pants in this, although there isn’t much detail about that part. Just a fantastic line at the end! And this is definitely more bottom!Steve, but it’s one of my favorite fics ever and I will rec it until the end of time.

“Been a while since you made me come in my pants like a goddamn teenager, Harrington.”

Steve has never knowingly done that, so the implication in Eddie’s words makes him scrub a hand over his face. “Don’t,” he says. “I can’t take any more. My dick is gonna actually fall off if you try and get it up again.”

   I wanna feel the heat with somebody by bdelaney - 

2.8k. A kind of AU where Eddie is invited to one of Steve’s parties as a drug dealer and Steve gets dared to give him a lap dance.

  These Dreams - IntoTheStardust - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

3.5k. Steve takes Eddie and the kids to San Diego for a con. ~And there was only one bed.~ The guys wake up in a compromising position and decide to do something about it. This technically counts as Eddie coming in his pants.

  never been kissed - Chapter 1 - Macellarius - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

26k. Virgin!Eddie with very confident and experienced Steve, but Steve is also in love and enamored with Eddie, so it’s super cute. Eddie loves that Steve can apparently lift him up, and Steve loves that he’s a virgin. There is thigh-riding and jizzing-in-pants in the first chapter.

The first chapter is really the only one I can really recommend. Steve is already a little over-confident in an OOC way in this and I don’t love the following chapters? Also, for some reason a lot of their dialog is in the same paragraph. Sometimes even the same sentence, which gets very confusing. But I think it happens more in the later chapters and not as much in the first one. Anyway, read the first chapter!

“You- you pick me up while we’re making out and think that’ll help me not cream my pants?” Eddie asks in disbelief, and Steve barks out a laugh.

“Maybe I want to make you cream your pants,” he responds, “that something you’d be into?”

  Related tags for future searching (and for the metadata of it all): Virgin Eddie Munson, Bottom Eddie Munson, Premature Ejaculation, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants.

Thank you all for coming (ha) on this journey with me!