#lisa's prompt sets

[captain-huggy-bear]

In The Firing Line

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' bit of hurt/comfort, lil' bit of angst, lil' bit of panic

Summary: You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

Notes: I have in fact been punched in the line of duty as a teacher and while it's not common it is truly a scary experience and I very much wish I had a Quinn to pick up the pieces when those things happen.

Another kinda angsty one? I keep putting the reader through some stuff in this series, I promise teaching is not always this eventful...please don't be scared of it <3

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

There are some dangers to your job, hazards you might say...while generally speaking teaching is a safe profession except for your stress levels, the reality is you're dealing with human beings who aren't yet capable of fully regulating their emotions and thinking through their actions. So things happen...like fights...and fights are...unfortunately something you can't just ignore as a teacher. They are in fact something you have to actively deal with.

There's a deep seated desire not to get involved, a sense of self preservation that says don't stand in between two teenage boys who are going at each other. That unfortunately is overridden by two things: 1) The duty of care you have to keep your students safe and stop them hurting themselves or others and 2) Your genuine desire to not see any of your students hurt.

At this point in your career you work off of instinct. The moment Carl throws a punch at Gabriel, while you're in the middle of teaching mind you, you're ushering every other student out of your classroom with directions to find another teacher. That leaves you with 2 teenage boys flipping tables and intent on pummelling each other. Really, you'll later find out the fight is over something silly, Gabriel had talked to the girl that Carl liked, Carl had been told that Gabriel was flirting with her and talking shit about Carl. He wasn't. Later they'll both apologise to you profusely and their sets of parents will come in and apologise to you too, but in that moment? Your only concern is stopping the fight from progressing any further and stopping blood from being spilled.

Perhaps it's misguided, but in your experience getting in the middle works. Often students stop, pulling their punches out of fear of hitting an adult, like a sort of reset button. The fact that you're there usually does the trick. So that's exactly what you do, you wedge your significantly smaller self between two teenage boys who stand well over 6ft tall, one of whom is on the boxing team and the other on basketball team. You think this is a good idea, spoiler alert, it is most certainly not.

You misjudge this, it's almost like slow motion the way that Carl's fist comes towards you, his eyes seeming to widen as he processes that you're now in the way and in the line of fire. You have just enough time and thought to turn your back to him so that he doesn't hit you anywhere soft and vulnerable.

But, fuck does it hurt to have a junior boxing champ throw a solid punch straight at your shoulder blade. You jolt straight into Gabriel who breaks your potential fall and both boys fall dead silent, fight ended as quickly as it had began. Whatever haze of red had come over them completely diffused. All you can hear is a series of swear words followed by the sounds of some of your colleagues coming in to take both boys away.

You're dimly aware of one of the English teachers wrapping an arm around you and carting you down the corridor towards the staff room, of being sat in a comfortable chair and handed a warm drink that you have little desire to sip at.

"I think she's in shock..."

"She can't teach like this, can you talk to Lisa about covering her lessons for the day?"

"Should we phone someone?"

The conversation happening near you is practically underwater, dull sounding. You register it but you don't really hear it, words that go in one ear and out the other like water off a duck's back.

Your gaze fixes on your principle who crouches in front of you with a soft smile, "Y/N, do you want to phone someone? Get them to take you home, we're going to give you the rest of the day off, okay?"

You nod more out of instinct than anything else, you feel like you're underwater or not in your own body. Adrenaline still pulsing through your system, shock having hit you so hard that you don't feel real. You feel floaty, not really present.

When you're left alone, an empty staff room, you reach for your phone. You unlock it on autopilot, find the contact without really thinking and listen to it ring, once, twice before being picked up on the third ring. Reliable and steadfast as always, he never fails to answer the phone to you.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" Quinn's voice is soft, sweet but curious with an undercurrent of worry because you almost never phone him while you're at school. It's that that seems to break you, seems to dissolve the numb shock and bring forth the waterworks.

"No..." You can't help it, you're sobbing in an instant, breathing rapidly as the shock gives way to panic, like Quinn's voice broke the dam that had been holding your emotions in check. "I-I-I..."

"Breathe, baby! Hey, hey, breathe...you're okay, what happened?" You try to follow his instructions, but your breathing is still sharp, short, stunted. Every breath cutting itself off by the next. Each sob interrupting your words and your attempts to get a full breath in.

"Baby, listen to me, okay?" You try to tune into Quinn's voice, the steady stableness of it, the way he tries to keep it as even as possible, "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe in..." You listen to him as he instructs you on how to breathe, breathing in when says and out when he says until your own breathing is back to a point where you can at least talk, still the tears don't disappear.

It's like your body has finally realised it was in danger, like it's finally realised what happened. You're just thankful that the room is empty, that everyone else is teaching right now because you can't help but feel embarrassed as you cry over the phone to your boyfriend over something that feels silly in your mind. It was just a punch and it wasn't even intended for you, you probably won't even bruise....

"What happened, baby?"

"I...I tried t-to break up a fight..." Your shoulder aches now that some of the panic has worn off, right in the shoulder blade. A reminder of the fact you've been punched by a junior boxing champ.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" You can tell he's worried, the stability of his voice disappearing in favour of concern but you stay silent...you don't want to make him worry... "Sweetheart...?"

"I...I got punched in the shoulder...I'm okay...I...I think." You don't want him to worry more than he already has, you know what Quinn is like...if he could wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you with him all the time he would. You know he supports you having your own life, own career, but he also hates you being unsafe in any way. You don't want him to worry especially when he's not around, the idea that he might worry when he's away on a roadie kills you inside.

"Has anyone had a look at you?"

"No...they want me to go home though..." Not like you have a proper nurse in school anyway, besides, you're certain you're just going to ache. You doubt there's any lasting damage.

"Okay, okay, give me 20 minutes? I'll get Petey to drop me off and I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to, Quinn..." You don't like feeling like a burden and that's how you feel right now. Quinn shouldn't be spending his day off picking you up from work and looking after you. He should be relaxing, enjoying the little free time he gets between games and practices, resting his own injuries like his hand that's still braced.

"Baby, respectfully, shut up. I'm going to get you, you aren't driving home, and we're going to spend the afternoon cuddling, okay?" You can't help but smile, wiping some of the tears that have tracked over your cheeks away, the salty taste on your tongue from where a few drops had hit your mouth.

"Okay...I love you."

"I love you too. Get your stuff ready and stop feeling like a burden. You're not. I love you, so I want to help you." You can't help but huff out a laugh at him calling you out for the thoughts you don't voice, because of course Quinn would know what you were thinking, of course he'd know you were feeling like a burden already.

"You know me too well." You roll your eyes, easing yourself up from the seat you'd been placed in earlier and making your way to the door knowing you need to venture to your room to grab your things. A little bit anxious about it, but knowing the students in question were likely already in isolation or the principle's office or been sent home after everything. Even though you know without a doubt Carl and Gabriel never intended for you to get hurt.

"That's my job, sweetheart."

"We've had this discussion before, your job is to hit a piece of vulcanised rubber around on the ice." Quinn's pretty certain you sassing him is a good sign that you're getting over the shock of being punched on the job, a good enough sign that he can't stop the laugh that comes out because at least you're okay.

"That's my paying job, not my proper job. My proper job is to look after you, baby."

"Mmm, do you want an ID badge for that?" Your classroom is empty when you get to it, students having been taken somewhere else for the period, most likely to the gym. It makes it easier for you to start grabbing your things without a million and one eyes on you.

"Yes please, and a lanyard."

"I'll get that printed for you right away," You're putting your work laptop away, grabbing your water bottle, phone balanced between your ear and your shoulder. Quinn finding away to calm you without even being in the room was something you were thankful for, while that well of anxiety still sat deep in your chest, you felt at least functional in that moment. More functional than when it first happened at least.

There's a beat of silence, where Quinn is unsure if he actually wants to come off the phone. Hearing you reassures him you're okay, not perfect, but okay...but he knows that to get Petey to pick him up he needs to actually say goodbye to you. A dilemma if he ever saw one.

"I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon...thank you, Quinny," You mean it, you always mean it. For a man who is so busy, so stressed all the time, he truly never failed to be there for you. You never thought twice about phoning him because you knew he'd pick up, knew he'd help no matter the situation, even if he wasn't around he'd find someone who could help. It was his reliability that always had you reaching for his number, even when past boyfriends had been last person you might have called. Quinn was always steady, always there, always on hand.

"Anytime, baby."

You're waiting in the car park when Petey's car drives up next to you, the window rolled down for the blonde man to give you a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Petey..." You give him your best attempt at a smile but you know it's a weak one, his features scrunching in sympathy. You can see Quinn in the passenger seat, hoodie on, beanie over his hair.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"

"I will be..." You answer as Quinn gets out of Petey's car, your smile starting to turn more genuine when Petey throws a bar of chocolate at you out the window. Not even just any chocolate, but the good stuff, European chocolate.

"Feel better soon, okay?"

"Thank you, Petey." You stand back as Quinn thanks Elias for the ride, tapping on the roof of the car as a sign it's okay for him to leave and you grasp the bar of chocolate tightly, feeling emotional over the thoughtful gesture.

That emotion spills over with one look from Quinn, tears starting to silently stream down your face as he pulls you into his warm arms. You feel so utterly safe the moment he does, your face pressing into his hoodie and just breathing in the scent of his cologne, the sea salt smell of his old spice deodorant. He practically traps you in his arms, trying to give you a sense of security and safety by wrapping you up tight, one hand coming to comb through the ends of your hair, the other stroking down your back in slow motions.

Quinn presses a kiss to your hair as he rocks you side to side, feeling the way your body shakes in his arms, the residual adrenaline left over from the whole affair coursing through your body. He knows better than most how your body responds after taking a hit, he's felt it time and time again on the ice, but the adrenaline usually gets worn off in play for him. For you? This is unfamiliar territory, unexpected and with no way to get all that adrenaline rush out of your system.

"I've got you, sweet girl...let it out, you're okay..." If there's one thing Quinn will always do, has always done, it's make sure you understand you can rely on him. That you don't need to hold back any of the ugly parts, the difficult parts, the raw parts, out of fear of being a burden. He doesn't care that his day is being spent stood in a school parking lot holding you while you cry, in fact he prefers it to the alternative, you pretending nothing happened, not telling him, crying on your own somewhere...

"Wanna go home, baby?" You nod into his chest, arms so tight around his waist that he almost worries he might not be able to breathe if you just squeeze a tad tighter. "Keys in your pocket?" You nod again and he slips his hand into your pocket, then the other one, fishing out your car keys.

The walk to your car is hindered by your refusal to come out from your spot hiding in his chest, you walk backwards while he walks forward. A strange sort of dance that shows just how much you trust him not to let you fall over.

It's obvious when he gets you to your car that you don't want to let go of him, that you feel safe surrounded by him in every sense of the word. Surrounded by his arms, surrounded by his hoodie, by his scent. But, Quinn is good at compromise, at finding solutions to problems, seeing the gaps in the defence and making a solid play.

"You want to wear my hoodie for the ride?" Your nod is all he gets and he's quick to strip himself of the oversized hoodie, pulling it over the top of your head and helping you work your arms into it. It's large on him and large on you, sleeves long enough to cover your hands, fabric billowing in a way that makes him think he could probably slip in there with you if he tried hard enough. He helps you pull the hood up and over your head, watching as you burying your face into the neck, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne.

It's like hugging him when you can't and it helps you feel that comfort still when he can't hold you because he has to drive. You still feel surrounded by him, his body heat having infused the fabric, his scent in the cotton, the sheer size of the hoodie comforting you. It brings you security that you need right now.

"Better, baby?"

"Mmhm." You hum from within the hood, eyes wide and soft and it makes Quinn's heart ache a little to see you like this, so withdrawn, so needy because of something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. There's part of Quinn that wants you to stop working altogether, wants to just pay for you to put your feet up, relax and enjoy your hobbies but he knows you love your job despite the issues. He knows he could no more ask that of you than you could ask him to stop playing hockey because of the dangers associated with his career.

"Okay, let's get you home, yeah? Then I'm going to check you for a bruise, okay?"

Quinn's gentle with you as he opens the car door and helps you in, doing your seatbelt up for you and making sure you're as comfortable as possible for the ride. Your music plays the moment he starts the engine and you smile just a little when you watch him have to adjust the driver's seat, complaining that your legs are far too short.

That smile eases some of his worry but you can see his concern in the way his fingers alternate between tapping the steering wheel and gripping it tight between his palms, tight enough that his knuckles go white each time. Every now and then he reassures himself that you're okay by reaching a hand out for your thigh, palm squeezing the plush flesh once, twice, before returning back to the steering wheel.

You don't say much on the way into the apartment, just let him reach his hand back for yours, gripping it tightly with your smaller hand and letting him guide you through the apartment building hallways and through your front door. You let him guide you all the way to the bathroom until he has you in front of him under the bright florescent lights. Quinn's large palms run up and down the tops of your arms in gentle strokes as you peer at him from beneath his hood, still buried deep, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Let's take a look at you, baby, okay?" You nod and help him as he lifts the hoodie up and over your head, turning you around until your back is facing him. It's intimate but rather clinical, not the sort of undressing you might usually experience with Quinn and you appreciate that. You appreciate that he can see you undressed for practical reasons, genuine reasons without making it sexual or strange, you appreciate that Quinn's concern right now is making sure you're okay not the fact he can see your bra.

You can feel his hands glide over the skin of your back and shoulders, assessing, the careful way he looks you over as if a single touch might cause you more unnecessary pain.

"Has it bruised?" Your voice is rough from the crying and the period of silence you'd entered into and Quinn takes it as a good sign that you're starting to talk to him again.

"Yeah, baby, practically black and blue...the kid a boxing champ or something?" He means it as a joke, but the irony is that he's not wrong.

"Yeah, he was actually..."

"Shit, baby...stay here, 'm going to get some ice and paracetamol for that bruise, okay?" You let him go but the moment he's gone you're looking in the mirror, twisting your head round as far as possible to see what the damage it.

Quinn's not wrong, you're legitimately black and blue, your shoulder has a nice fist sized bruise that is already turning various shades of blue and purple, blood pooling under the skin. It explains why each roll of your shoulder aches like nothing else.

"Here, baby," Quinn returns to the bathroom with a tea towel filled with ice, pressing it against the bruise and holding it there. It's cold, uncomfortably so, causing you to hiss.

"s cold..." you mumble frowning at him in the mirror and Quinn gives you a sympathetic look and a quick, commiserating kiss to the top of your shoulder.

"I know, but it'll bring the swelling down, just a few minutes for me, baby?"

"Okay...a few minutes" You agree watching him tend to you in the mirror, downing the paracetamol he brought back for you from the first aid drawer he keeps in the kitchen. Quinn's attentive, even as he holds the ice filled towel to your skin he checks every now and then that he's not giving you freezer burn, that it's helping reduce the swelling and not actually hurting you more.

"Atta, girl," Quinn's free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly, every now and then digging in to a sore spot to distract you from the uncomfortable cold sensation against your shoulder blade.

"Can we cuddle now?" You're patient for the first few minutes but that starts to wain as the cold becomes almost painful against your skin.

"Yeah, sweet girl, we can cuddle now...think you've earned it," Quinn throws the melting ice into the bathroom sink, hand trailing down to grip yours to tug you back to the bedroom.

He helps you change into comfy clothes before tugging you down into the bedcovers with him. You breathe a sigh of relief as you curl into his side, face pressed into the warm crook of his neck, leg slung over his waist. Quinn rests a hand on your thigh, pulling your leg tighter against him while his other hand finds its way into your hair, scratching gently across your scalp.

"You tired, baby?" You can't help but close your eyes at the way Quinn's fingers curl in your hair and run through each strand, burrowing as deep into his neck as you can as he pulls the covers up and over the top of the two of you to create a cosy little nest of warmth.

"Yeah...really tired..."

"Eventful day, huh?" You nod into his neck in agreement, feeling like your body has been through the mental and emotional wringer. There's the physical discomfort of being punched obviously, but the bigger issue is how emotionally exhausted you feel. Your nervous system having been put through fight or flight, only to have to come crashing down from that adrenaline high.

"You can sleep, baby, it's okay, I'll be here when you wake up..."

"You promise?"

"I promise, 'm not going anywhere." It's his reassurance, the firm but gentle hold on you that helps you fall asleep because you trust him, you believe him. You know that if Quinn says he'll be there when you wake up, then he'll be there.

[ssa-dado]

i’m actually convinced that hotch is secretly a huge gossip. what if that’s the thing that gets him and fleabag reader to start talking? maybe it’s about one of the other pool dads ? hotch actually knows him cause his kid goes to school with jack and it’s something real scandalous. idk i just need to have hotch being nosey and spilling tea.

Pinot Grigio

triathlon!Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: 21st-century-feminist-meltdown-over-an-old-man mutual pining Summary: It’s a party. You’re the help. He��s the Hotchner. He shows up to the gala in jeans, insults a politician for you, then stands around long enough to overshare a bunch of gossip you didn’t ask for (meaning: casually reveals he’s been tracking your poolside admirers like a repressed Victorian husband.) Warnings: Explicit sexual language! (not graphic, it's all in reader's head and meant as a joke... for herself, apparently), alcohol use, age gap, cuss words, hint of the vile act of female masturbation *pearl clutch*, classism, mysogeny, unhealthy coping mechanisms (wine, gossip, Hotchner) Word Count: 4.2k Dado's Corner: This prompt was so juicy and triggered my brain just right, I had to fumble a lot to find the perfect setting to reveal Hotch’s true chatty grandma self hihihihi this was so funnn! (I think I wrote three different versions of it because my brain cells just refused to collaborate… but hopefully this one works.) [I didn’t end up scripting in the part where Hotch knows the dad because of Jack, butttt! trust me, it’s probably for the better.] Thank you so much for the request, marry meeee <3

masterlist(s)

Pinot Grigio.

Just a normal white wine.

Pear on the nose. Citrusy. Crisp. Innocent.

Until yesterday. 7:24 PM.

When Penelope Garcia - who you don’t know, didn’t follow, would absolutely remember if you did (because of the most adorable Lego duck earrings and blonde curls) - posted a single photo from some FBI event on Facebook.

A glass of wine in one hand. Aaron Hotchner’s shoulder in the other.

A bottle of Pinot Grigio right there on the table.

Since then, it’s been panic.

Pool moms liked. Pool moms shared. Some pool moms commented, even.

Penelope is now famous.

She’s gained at least forty new friend requests from women named Debbie (the cool-girl rebrand of Deborah), Beth (Bethany, but pretending), and Lisa (just... Lisa) - all of them hoping for fresh content.

A new Hotchner sighting. A blurry arm. The back of a head. The profile of his nose.

And now you are paying the price.

Because you’re six bottles deep into Pinot Grigio and currently opening your seventh for the Pool Extension Project Announcement Party.

(A name so thrilling it could only have been brainstormed by three men named Greg in a windowless office with beige carpets and no dreams... broken dreams, maybe.)

(Apparently they’re adding a spa? Maybe? You weren’t listening. You were too busy arranging the buffet to look “effortlessly elegant” while silently sobbing into a tray of beet hummus.)

You’re catering it. Sort of.

You were a last-minute call.

You were a desperate substitution. Someone dropped out, and they called you.

Because you are reliable.

Talented. Charming. Funny. Qualified. And – crucially - cheaper.

(Not cheap. Cheaper. Enough of a bargain to be flattering but still slightly degrading.)

And of course, you said yes. Said “I’d love to,” said “What’s the dress code?” while internally shrieking because - what if Aaron is there too? (He might be. He probably is.)

You also told yourself you weren’t dressing for him.

That you just wanted to look professional in your very black, very tailored to your body catering uniform (with a slutty apron) - but your ass looks absolutely divine in these trousers, and if it’s not captured in one of the official photos and framed in the break room, you’re suing.

Mayday. Mayday.

He’s here.

Confirmed visual.

Aaron Hotchner.

In the flesh. In the room.

Looking slightly out of place, which of course only makes him stand out more.

Navy button-up. Jeans.

(Jeans? Him? He owns a pair of jeans??? Who sold them to him? Who authorized this? Who gave this man thighs and then denim?)

(Well… apparently so. And they fit. Criminally well.)

Meanwhile, everyone else is trussed up in three-piece suits, using big grown adult vocabulary like municipal redevelopment-

(Meaning: someone’s cousin is getting paid a suspicious amount of money to plant four trees and call it urban renewal)-

and strategic infrastructure planning-

(Meaning: they’re finally going to pour some lukewarm asphalt over the holes in 45th St NW, right before election season.)

They all shake hands with fake smiles, congratulate each other on breathing, and pretend the room doesn’t still vaguely smell like feet and chlorine, despite the mountain of imported cheeses you spent hours shaping into perfect little geometric offerings to the gods of local politics.

And Aaron-

Aaron just stands there.

Not speaking. Not smiling. Not performing. Just existing.

And yet, somehow, he still looks more elegant than all of them combined.

God, what a man.

…A man you’ve had full conversations with–

in your head.

While brushing your teeth.

While shaving your legs.

While marinating chicken.

You’ve practiced your banter with him more than you’ve prepared for actual job interviews.

The fact that you’ve barely spoken to him in real life is not because you’re shy. Not because you’re afraid of rejection. Not because there’s the occasional whisper that he’s technically old enough to have fathered you if he’d started very, very young.

(Which, most of the time, only makes it more erotically confusing.)

No. (Yes.)

It’s because you lowkey hate him.

You hate him because he walked in holding his pool bag.

…He just showed up here to do his laps.

And you just know - deep in your soul, in your bloodstream, in your ovaries - that inside that bag is a navy speedo. Matching. To. His. Shirt.

A Speedo that will now never fulfill its destiny, heartlessly imprisoned, crushed by a rolled towel and - if you had to guess - a blister pack of ibuprofen (he’s old enough to break his back sneezing and still blame it on “tight hamstrings.”)

Because, clearly, judging by the way he’s confidently flipping the strap back up onto his shoulder…

He has no idea the pool is closed today.

Didn’t know there was a party. He wasn’t briefed. He didn’t glance at the laminated flyer at reception with a dolphin in a bowtie that said “Join us for the Pool Extension Gala!”

Beautiful, beautiful man. But apparently can’t read for shit.

Because he was too busy doing… FBI things.

Whatever that means.

You don’t really know what he does.

In your head it’s just a sweaty, shirt-clinging montage of him saving lives, wrestling evil, or rescuing kittens from burning houses and carrying them out in one arm while the other cradles a bleeding witness.

You just know it’s hotter than whatever the hell you do, because before he can take more than two steps into the room, he’s already being mobbed by politicians.

Actual, elected men - men with power, men with authority, men with at least three types of stress-induced hair loss and thinning temples they pretend aren’t happening.

And they know him. They recognize him.

They even lower their voices when they speak to him, they shake his hand with such reverence, you can smell their intimidation from all the way across the room.

The fear. The respect. The power. The arm veins. The way Aaron has no idea he’s the main event at a party he didn’t even know existed.

Quite ironically, on the other hand - on the small, overworked, kind of underpaid, sexually malnourished hand that is you - you haven’t slept properly in a week because of it.

Because of the stress of the endless prep and logistics and… fine, because of him too.

Sometimes at 4 a.m., you’d find yourself just… staring at the ceiling. Lying in the dark, vibrating with anxiety and something much less noble and your only two options for survival were:

Cooking. Loudly. Desperately. Whipping up reductions and spreads in your tiny kitchen, determined to perfect the fig-and-goat cheese tartlet while trying not to scream when the oven beeped and you realized the sun was already rising.

Or… Well. Let’s just say your neighbors must think you’re really, really into dental hygiene. What kind of electric toothbrush has that many vibration modes? What kind of dental tool sings at such frequency?

Answer: not a toothbrush.

It’s pink. Plastic. Takes two AA batteries and a prayer.

You may or may not bought it during a very dark week with your café tip money at 2 a.m. from the back shelf of a pharmacy, and since then it’s been the most stable relationship of your adult life.

You’ve had to steal batteries from your TV remote more than once just to get through the week.

She’s not fancy, but she gets the job done.

You’d recommend her.

You’d even recommend her to the woman now standing in front of you - if she’d stop looking at Hotchner and trying to hormonally inform him that she is, at this very moment, in the mating phase of her cycle.

It’s not even subtle - the little cleavage tug, the fluttery eyelashes, the way she’s nodding absently while you talk about acidity and finish, eyes locked on the back of his neck rolls.

You get it. You’ve been there. Last week, actually.

And even now - when you are categorically not ovulating, when you are actively trying to be a functioning member of a patriarchal society - he does, objectively, have a beautiful neck.

A neck that has almost certainly never been stressed about fig preserves or the structural integrity of a puff pastry shell.

“I’ll have that one,” she says, stopping you midway through your ramble and pointing at a bottle.

The fucking Pinot.

Of course you will.

You smile.

Because you are a professional.

Because rage doesn’t pair well with brie.

“Sure,” you say, and pour.

You handpicked twelve white wines for this event. Twelve.

Each chosen with a level of passion that should’ve been reserved for, say, human relationships or personal growth.

Some of them had to be pulled from tiny Italian cellars with shipping so disorganized you’re now on a first-name basis with a man named Lorenzo who thinks you’re unstable and possibly in love with him.

(You might be. You’ve sliced figs and cried about tannins. Your grip on reality is… soft.)

You woke up in cold sweats for a whole week wondering if the Soave made it through Zurich because Italians do not believe in emails. Or customs. Only God.

But none of it mattered, because in the end, it’s always the Pinot, for her – and all the other people that came to your stand earlier.

You call it the Aaron Hotchner Effect.

The logic goes like this:

“If in the picture, he was drinking Pinot, and I drink Pinot, then we have something in common. We can laugh. We can clink glasses.

He’d say something dry and low - “You’ve got good taste” - and brush my fingers as he takes the glass. Maybe the hand. Maybe the elbow. Maybe the fucking thigh.

We’d flirt.

And then he’d fuck me.

Some really good rough, sex up against his hardwood bed. He’d keep his tie on. Hold my wrists. Press his mouth to my shoulder to keep from making a sound, because letting go like that, making noise, would be too revealing. Too honest.

He’d fuck me until my knees gave in and my breath stuttered and my voice cracked from begging. He wouldn’t come until I had. At least three times.

And then, of course, He’d marry me.

All because I drank his wine.”

That’s the pipeline. That’s what’s happening behind their eyes.

And you can't even judge them.

You’d be doing the same, if you weren’t currently being reminded by the smell of onion jam soaked into the pocket of your apron that you’re on the job.

You’re the help, the wine girl no one listens to until the glass is already full and the flirting has failed.

But you’d do it. You would.

Just… correctly.

Because while everyone else in that cursed Facebook photo saw the bottle, you saw the glass.

His glass, the one shoved off to the side, barely in frame - because God forbid someone like Aaron Hotchner be photographed holding the fun juice. That would imply he experiences pleasure. Or whimsy. Or serotonin.

Still, you zoomed in. You don't like to admit that. You really don't. But you did.

And thanks to the course that still haunts your bank account - the one led by three men, all named Marco - you can confidently say, with devastating clarity:

That was not Pinot.

It was Verdicchio.

Lean. Salty. A little green around the edges.

The kind of wine that doesn’t care if you like it.

Citrus and sea air and something just a little bit wrong at the end, like it’s judging you.

And maybe it is.

It’s bitter. Quiet. Difficult.

Difficult also because no one knows how to properly pronounce its name - you didn’t. You butchered it every time and got scolded by each of the Marcos at least once.

(Marco One - smoking indoors in his wool turtleneck in July, would hiss, "No, no, Ver-deek-kio, not Ver-dish-ee-oh, do you want to die in shame?")

(Marco Two made you repeat it five times in a row in front of the whole class.)

(Marco Three just muttered “Madonna Santa” and poured himself another glass.)

Verdicchio doesn’t seduce.

It holds its distance, stands in the corner of the room with crossed arms, and waits for you to prove you're worth the conversation.

Half the people who taste it hate it. The other half get addicted.

It lingers. It cuts. It stays in your mouth longer than it should.

A wine with boundaries.

A wine that says: you don’t know me.

You think you do, but you don’t.

Just like Aaron.

And you tried, betraying everything the three Marcos ever taught you about integrity, balance, and correct regional pairings, to guide each of your (unwanted) patient tragically afflicted with Hotchism toward the Verdicchio.

Even when it didn’t pair with what they were eating. Even when it clashed. Even when it made your soul itch with the wrongness of a soft-rind Brie beside all that salinity.

You’re not a bitch. You don’t gatekeep. You offer your knowledge freely. Warmly. Kindly.

But you’d be lying if you said that knowing the truth didn’t make you feel good.

Smug.

A little superior.

And yes, fine, maybe that made you feel close to him.

Closer.

Maybe you are a bitch.

Because you could have said it, could have casually dropped the line - “Oh, by the way, he was drinking Verdicchio. It wasn’t the Pinot.”

You could have been generous. Transparent. Correct.

But it wouldn’t have changed anything.

You’d be out of Verdicchio instead of Pinot.

They’d still fawn.

Still flutter.

Still call him Agent Hotchner with that glazed, pseudo-coy voice like they’re already imagining what his mattress feels like.

(It’s probably very firm. Orthopedic. Recommended by his chiropractor. No softness. No give. Posture is sacred. Comfort is weakness.)

(He probably tucks the sheets so tight you’d have no choice but to scooch closer to him just to have some room to breathe. Which, obviously, is the point.)

Same thirst, different label.

Maybe you’d tell the first one who actually listens to you.

The first one who doesn’t treat you like furniture in an apron. The first one who doesn’t cut you off mid-sentence the moment they clock that the politicians are loosening their grip on him.

Maybe the reason why you have such a crush on him is because he’s everything.

And you’re- well. You’re here.

In shoes that are starting to pinch. With wine on your hands and fig paste in your hair. With bills and back pain and the slow, creeping dread that no one really sees you unless you’re holding something they want.

And even then, just barely.

He’s elegant, unreadable, capital letter Important.

You’re… nice. Warm. Cheap... cheaper.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the whole appeal.

Maybe that’s why you keep staring at him as he’s basically dragged to your tasting stand by a small parade of men who spend their days warming seats in the Senate and collecting checks for pretending they invented civic duty.

One of the men makes the effort to squint at your name tag.

You can see the gears turning in his head as he uses it - not to address you - but to soften the blow of a condescending joke he thinks is charming, such as “how rare it is to find a young woman with taste… especially one who serves.”

You smile.

Because that’s the job.

You’re the help. The scener-

“What do you mean?” Aaron asks, turned slightly toward the man, voice flat.

He looks disgusted.

(Though, in fairness, everything he says sounds vaguely judgmental. That’s just his face.)

“Oh, no… Hotchner, don’t get me wrong. I mean it as a compliment. I admire it. Not everyone’s meant to chase titles or build a résumé, you know? And that’s not a bad thing - society only works because some people are content doing the everyday stuff. The real work.”

You’re two seconds away from breaking the last Pinot bottle over his head.

Kill two birds with one stone: one bottle, one condescending prick, and finally, blissful silence.

“…We need the people who keep the wheels turning. Mechanics. Hairdressers. Cooks…”

He gestures vaguely to you, apparently your existence is now an example. A concept. An idea. Something nice to look at when dressed in black and pouring wine.

“Really,” he adds - just in case you didn’t catch the insult the first three times - “I admire it.”

“Do you always talk to people like this?” Aaron doesn’t raise his voice - just tilts his head slightly, gaze locked on the man with a kind of stillness that, for reasons you’ve yet to comprehend, is louder than yelling.

It’s unsettling.

“What? I’m paying her a compliment.” Senator Asshole tries to laugh it off.

“You’re condescending to her. It’s not the same thing.”

“Come on,” Senator Asshole chuckles, flicking a desperate glance around, “I’m just saying she’s good at what she does.”

“And I’m saying maybe you should stop talking,” Aaron hisses.

The silence is immediate.

Aaron just stares at him – for one, two, three, four??? Seconds.

Senator Asshole, sadly, does not burst into flames. He’s stolen away by Councillor Buttchin, who probably heard everything and tries to mop it up with the limp excuse of needing to discuss “urban renewal”

(Meaning: gentrification. The rich man’s robbery.)

And so Aaron watches him leave, before he turns back to you.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “The asshole didn’t even apologise.”

(He’s very hot when he swears.)

You wave it off. “It’s alright.”

“No. It’s not. It’s disgust-”

“It’s not the first time,” you cut him off. Because you don’t want to hear it. The apology. The concern. The male guilt wrapped in decency like it's somehow revolutionary.

Yes, thank you for noticing misogyny exists. Gold star.

You’ve done the bare minimum and you’re very tall so it feels like more. Congratulations on not being a monster.

At least, that’s what the rational part of you is saying. The one with a spine. The one that reads theory and donates when she can.

The other part – the one currently regulating the lubrication levels of a certain region of your body that apparently believes being mildly defended by a man with forearms like that is enough to justify reproduction - has… other thoughts.

Darwin would call it natural selection.

You’d call it bringing feminism back fifty years in one pelvic pulse.

But maybe your body’s oh-so-romantically prepping for insemination because he doesn’t make a speech.

He doesn’t continue to perform, doesn’t launch into a well-rehearsed monologue about respect, social or say something like “I have a lot of female friends, my mom is a woman, for instance.”

He doesn’t explain how decent he is.

He just… nods. Gives you a flicker of a concerned half-smile (because he’s a dad, and concern is hardwired into his frontal cortex, right between disapproval and knows best.)

But it’s quiet. Undramatic.

Like he saw it. Heard it. Filed it.

And now he’s moving on. Not because it didn’t matter. But because it did.

And not just emotionally, physically. Actually moving-moving.

Shifts halfway down the shorter end of your stand - not technically in your area, but just close enough that if he got any nearer, people might start asking him what cheese pairs with a Chablis.

(Which would be a disaster, because he looks like he’d say “cheddar” and then stare you down until you corrected him.)

Close enough to feel like a choice.

He doesn’t look at you. Scans the room instead, until his gaze lands on something. Someone.

“See that guy?” he says, nodding subtly toward ‘that guy’ across the room.

You follow the gesture.

Ah. That guy.

Mid-thirties.

You don’t know his name.

You just know he’s always suspiciously nearby. Hovering. Lurking. Casually orbiting the table where you sit every week in the pool cafeteria while waiting for your friend to finish her laps.

Objectively hot - if your type is broad shoulders, hollow eyes, and a divorce lawyer in waiting (and it pretty much is, unfortunately.)

He has a kid, you’re pretty sure. And a wedding ring he forgets to forget.

The kind of man who blames his wife’s headaches instead of confronting the fact he thinks the clitoris was a Greek philosopher.

(“Clitoris? He makes an appearance in Plato’s Symposium, doesn’t he?”)

“He’s been battling with himself over asking for your number for about a month,” Aaron says. “Still hasn’t managed it.”

Oooooooooooooookay.

Weird. Unexpected. Also deeply awkward.

(How strange that it’s not you making things weird for once.)

“And…” you trail off, because you’re too distracted by how he looks like he’s regretting it all - what a loser. “You’re saying this because you want me to hand it to him directly?”

“Oh, not at all.” Boy. That was fast. Too fast. “…he’s married.” You knew that already. “…You shouldn’t-”

“I shouldn’t?” You blink.

“Um, you…” He shakes his head, “You should… just… know this.”

…Right.

Aaron’s wife definitely cheated on him. Or maybe he’s just a prude. Or a control freak.

All possible. All extremely inconvenient. Poor him. Or maybe he deserved it, who knows.

“…Thanks,” you say flatly. “You… want something to drink?”

You ask because it’s polite… and also because he’s technically clogging the line forming behind him (all faint whiffs of Pinot settling directly into your nostrils from people pretending they need a refill, when really, they just want to stand near him.)

(Mr. Aaron.)

(Awkward-mr.-Aaron.)

(Socially-repressed-emotionally-terrifying-mr.-Aaron.)

(Mr. very-much-returning-to-the-place-he’s-meant-to-be, mr. Aaron.)

(Mr. leaning-in-to-read-the-wine-list, mr. Aaron.)

(Mr-)

“How did you know about the guy?” slips out of you, as you’re already pouring something into an empty glass just to keep moving… you don’t even look at the bottle.

No pear. So, not Pinot. (Small victories.)

“He always sits on the side of the table facing you, instead of watching his son’s swimming lesson like the rest of the parents.”

Yeah, okay, that guy is a bit way too obvious, but the problem only continues to be him.

Aaron.

“He straightens his posture every time you laugh.”

Aaron, who shouldn’t have time to notice these things. Who stops by every other week, maybe. Maybe less. Always suited. Always in a rush. Always delivering the same three lines.

“Americano, no sugar.”

“Card.”

“Have a nice day.”

He never lingers. He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t even stir the coffee. Just takes it and goes. Gone before the register beeps. FBI stuff awaiting for him.

“He ordered the same drink as you twice. Didn’t drink it. He doesn’t like cappuccino, he only did that because he thought you’d notice him”

So, how the hell does Aaron know? How does he notice you? Because he must have.

Somewhere in those two-minute drop-ins. In the blur between Card and Have a nice day. In the handful of seconds he’s ever been within ten feet of you.

Unless…

“Puts his phone down when you walk in. Doesn’t check it again until you’re gone.”

Unless he did look. Unless he looked specifically at you. Out of all the people. All the tables. All the parents and staff and regulars.

“His son finishes swimming before your friend. He doesn’t leave. Doesn’t talk to anyone else. Always finds something to do. Phone. Book. Pretending to read the sign about pool shoes.”

He saw you. And he remembered.

Which means…

“Always leaves five minutes after you. Never before. Never with anyone else.”

He’s either been paying attention. Or this big, terrifying federal agent is actually just… a massive gossip.

You freeze, because he picks up the glass you poured.

It wasn’t meant for him. You didn’t even know what it was.

Aaron swirls it once.

Leans in. Smells it.

Then brings it to his lips-

And hums.

A low, pleased little sound that settles right between your legs  lungs, ergo straight to your heart. Because you’re a professional. And you take the sommelier thing very seriously.

You’re just passionate about your craft.

Especially about praise.

You love being praised.

On the job.

For the wine.

“People give a lot of themselves away when they want someone,” he says softly, almost kind.

Then he licks his lips. Just to clean the red off.

But it’s slow. Thoughtless. (Only makes it worse for you, honestly.)

You’re magnetically locked onto that smart mouth, so it’s easy to catch the small smile he gives you before turning and walking away.

Still with that soggy pool bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck.

The things you wouldn’t do to that man.

“Can I have what he just had?” the next woman in line asks, already stepping up.

Of course you can.

That’s the point of lines, isn’t it? You wait your turn, you get what you want, and you leave. No lingering. No swooning. No involuntary pelvic lurches.

Survival.

Even if the sommelier - oh, that’s you! What a coincidence - would swear to drink Pinot for an entire godforsaken month just for five more seconds with that huge, handsome, back in that goddamn navy shirt… and that mouth too.

You glance at the bottle in your hand.

What did you even pour?

Oh. Of course.

It’s that wine.

The one you only open on nights when you’re either crying or coming.

The one that tasted like a mistake the first time and like a need every time after.

Aglianico.

Black fruit. Smoke. Leather.

Earthy. Dense. A little savage around the edges.

Unapologetic.

Masculine.

Slow to open.

Demands patience.

Tastes better if you wait for it.

Like all the worst things.

And all the best ones.

What a coincidence, really.

Phi's Corner: requests for fleabag!reader x Hotch are (wide) open(ed)!

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[keeryhours]

no one knows (oh, what you do to me) - steve harrington

CEO!Steve Harrington x personal assistant fem! reader

Main Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

1k Celebration Masterlist

Summary:

Your boss is too hot for his own good.

1k celebration prompt: “Behave.”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, smoking, unspecified age gap

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

Thank you for celebrating with me! You can still request here if you want to join!

Big big shoutout to the best of the best @punkrockmlchael @the-witty-pen-name @lesservillain @fizzing-imagines @losingmygrasponreality for reading and helping with ideas!

Mr. Harrington fastened his cuff links, staring intently at his reflection in the mirror in his large office. His hair was perfectly styled, his expensive suit dry cleaned and pressed. He had spritzed on the slightest bit of his cologne, the scent intoxicating even from the other side of the room.

You came over to him with your binder in hand, little black dress hugging your curves just right. This company party was an important one, there would be CEOs and presidents from multiple large companies in attendance. You could tell Steve was nervous. There was a major deal he was hoping to close.

“Can I help with anything, Mr. Harrington?” You asked, opening your binder and looking through the list of tasks. As his personal assistant, you were determined to help this party run as smoothly as possible. “The caterers have arrived, they just finished getting set up downstairs.”

Steve glanced away from the mirror to meet your eyes, giving you a kind smile that did nothing to hide his nerves. “No, you’ve done amazing. Thank you.”

The electricity between you felt like a physical presence. You had always been drawn to Steve, from the moment you got hired at his company. You originally had been hired as a receptionist, but Steve took such a liking to you and how you did things that he promoted you to his personal assistant. You loved the job. It paid well, it was exciting work, something you were good at, and Mr. Harrington was a kind and fair boss.

He was also extremely good looking. Maybe a little too old for you. And, you know. Your boss.

It didn’t stop you from swooning over him, or constantly gushing about him to your friends, or thinking of him when you were alone.

It didn’t help, the way he looked at you. Like he felt it, too. The way his gaze would linger on you whenever he had the chance, how he would place a hand on your back and let it linger too long, the way he always wanted you by his side (which probably was because you were his assistant, but you’d read into it if you wanted to, dammit). Steve was quiet about his private life, but you had certainly noticed the lack of a ring on his finger.

Lisa, the new secretary, popped her head into the office. “The guests are arriving, Mr. Harrington.”

He gave her a nod. “Thank you, Lisa.” He looked over his appearance in the mirror one more time, and you wished you could tell him he looked perfect and sexy as hell, not a single thing out of place. “Are you ready?” He asked you.

“Ready,” you confirmed, and he surprised you by holding his arm out for you. He looked at you expectantly as you stared at it in shock, but finally snapped yourself out of it and linked your arm with his.

Down at the party, things were in full swing quickly. You trailed Steve as he spoke to about a million businessmen and women, introducing you as his assistant. You were surprised he deemed you important enough to introduce to these people at all. They were nice enough, but quickly turned their attention back to Steve.

The alcohol was flowing, and everyone was in good spirits. Steve’s conversations with the other professionals were going well, especially with Mr. Connor, the CEO he was trying to close a deal with. You could always tell when Steve was happy with how a deal was going because he could never wipe off that charming smile, the laugh lines on his face prominent.

“Do you want to get some fresh air with me?” Steve asked after a little while. It was getting stuffy in there and you were a few drinks deep, so you agreed. Steve led you out the back glass doors onto a private balcony.

He pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from behind a potted plant, pulling one out and placing it between his lips. You raised your eyebrows, and he smirked as he brought the flame of the lighter up to the cigarette. “Our little secret,” he said.

Somehow, it made him even hotter. And now you had a secret together? It might have been the alcohol, but your head was spinning with how badly you wanted this man.

And maybe it was also the alcohol, but you were feeling a little bold.

Your pen slipped from your hand (totally by mistake, of course), clattering to the ground. “Oh, shoot,” you hissed, and you bent over, giving Steve the perfect view of your ass in your short dress.

You could practically feel Steve’s eyes on you. And oh, was he looking. His eyes shamelessly dragged over the curve of your perfect ass, the tiniest glimpse of your black lace panties beneath. The smoke left his lips in a slow cloud as he took in every inch of you he could before you stood again, his pants now uncomfortably tight.

“Sorry,” you blushed, leaning back against the balcony as you faced him again.

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

You only blushed deeper, your eyes roaming Steve’s figure, his immense sex appeal only increased as you watched him smoke. “Sorry,” you said again out of habit.

Steve chuckled. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You cheered internally. He had really just complimented you.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Mr. Harrington,” you smiled at him, a little flirtatious. For the year you’ve dreamed of making some kind of move, you’re still beyond shocked that you’re actually doing it.

“Please,” he waved his hand with the cigarette before dragging on it one more time. “Call me Steve.”

He had never told you to do that before. Your heart thundered in your chest - what did this mean?

“My ex wife never liked when I smoked,” he commented randomly. “So now I keep it quiet.”

It was the first thing Steve had ever told you about his personal life. It caught you off guard, and your own next words surprised you even more. “Are you single now?”

Steve smirked at the question. “Yes. I am.” Another drag. “You?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, completely giddy that he’d even asked. “Single.” He smiled again, giving you a little nod like he approved of that.

When he finished his cigarette he stubbed it out, tossing it off the balcony. He straightened his suit and slid a hand over his always immaculate hair. “Ready to get back to it?”

Back at the party, you were suddenly physically much closer to Steve. He led you around with his large hand on the small of your back, and you could almost pretend you were his date. His young little trophy wife, attending events on his arm without a pen and binder clutched to your chest.

Steve being into you out back had only boosted your confidence, and the cocktails were certainly helping. You would make a point to slide in front of him in tight spaces, muttering a quiet “Excuse me,” as you brushed your ass over the crotch of his pants completely on purpose. You could feel his breath hitch behind you; the way he twitched like he wanted to move away but also wanted to touch you. You kept bending over in front of him again and again, leaning across him and pushing your breasts near his face.

It was working. Steve’s attention was entirely on you, totally distracted whenever a colleague would speak to him. Something about his demeanor seemed a little on edge, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you by the arm and pulling you out into the hallway. Your eyes were wide when he spun on you.

“I’m carrying this company’s reputation on my back,” he said, eyes shining with intensity. “This is potentially the most important deal of my life.” He leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear. It gave you goosebumps. “So you need to be a good girl and behave.”

Your mouth parted in silent shock. An electrical current ran through your body, right to your core. His hand trailed up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress up slowly.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He practically growled in your ear.

“I-“

“Oh, don’t act cute,” he sneered. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You may be young, sweetheart, but you’re not some innocent little girl.”

You were speechless. Steve looked like he was fighting something in his own head; he cursed under his breath. “We’re not gonna be able to go back to that party until we get this out of our systems, are we?”

And with that he pulled you to the elevator. “Where are we going?” You asked, attempting to keep up with his long strides in your heels without falling on your face.

“To my office,” he said simply. He pressed the button for the top floor and the doors slid closed.

The second they did, Steve was on you. He pushed you up against the wall, his lips on yours in an instant. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands slid up your dress, grabbing your ass and pulling your body against his. God, was he hard already?

He bit down on your bottom lip before his tongue slid over it and you let him in with a moan, the smirk felt against your lips as his tongue pressed into your mouth. His hands slid over your hips, teasing the hem of your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since you walked in these doors for the first time,” he murmured. “You have no idea the restraint I’ve had to show. The things I’ve had to do to the thoughts of you when I get home just so I can control myself at work.”

You whimpered at his words, clit throbbing between your legs at his dirty mouth. Were you dreaming?

“Mr. Harrington…”

Steve groaned, pushing his hardened cock against you. “I told you, you don’t have to call me that. But fuck, I love it when you do.”

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open and revealing the empty hallway. Steve lifted you, and you squealed as your feet left the ground and your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you the short distance to his office, fumbling with the doorknob as he held you up.

Inside, he carried you to his huge mahogany desk. He used one arm to sweep everything but the computer off and onto the floor, sitting you on top of it. Your eyes were wide, head spinning at how bad he clearly wanted you as the papers all scattered to the ground, making a huge mess Steve didn’t seem to give a fuck about.

He hiked your short dress up around your waist, revealing your black lace panties and your (thankfully) freshly shaven legs. His hands slid up the smooth skin slowly, like he was savoring every inch of your body. He wore a ring on his right hand, the real gold like ice against your skin, making you shiver.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he remarked to himself. “And such a little minx. You know what those tiny little skirts do to me?” He leaned in closer, lips brushing your neck. “It’s against our dress code, you know. Couldn’t bring myself to say anything because I liked the view too much.”

He kissed your neck, running his tongue over the sensitive flesh as he moaned at the taste of you. He pulled back and quickly discarded his suit jacket, throwing it over the back of his desk chair. Your hands moved for his expensive leather belt, unbuckling it and then working on the button of his pants.

“I’ve wanted you so bad,” you admitted. Steve chuckled, the sound way sexier than you’d ever heard a laugh sound. He bit down on your neck and you moaned, tilting your head to the side. His hands caressed your body, now sliding up your sides until he was grabbing at your tits.

You got his pants undone just as he reached for your panties, sliding them down your legs. He placed your high heel-clad feet on the edge of the desk, spreading your legs wide for him before he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lowered his head to your pussy.

You gasped at the feeling of his tongue licking along your folds, devouring your wetness and groaning at the taste of you. “Fuck, taste so good. So sweet. Just like I imagined.”

He was so good. He worked his tongue expertly against your cunt, paying special attention to your clit as he flicked it with his tongue and wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. You cried out, head tilting back as you leaned back on your arms. Steve grabbed tightly onto your hips, pulling you as close to his face as possible. His tongue teased your hole, nose brushing against your clit.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. “I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-“

Steve slipped a long finger inside of you, curling it and pumping deep inside, and it was all it took to push you over the edge. You moaned loudly, not even thinking about if there could be a janitor or other staff member on the floor. Steve groaned as he worked you through your orgasm, drinking in every bit of slick you gave him.

When he stood to his full height again, you could see the wetness on his lips and chin, the sight absolutely obscene and so hot. He crashed his lips to yours again, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He moved back a little to push down his pants and briefs, long, hard cock springing free.

Jesus Christ.

It was such a pretty cock. Long and thick, just the slightest upward curve. There was a vein along the underside of it that you ached to run your tongue over. His tip was tinged red, precum glistening at his head. You longed to wrap your lips around him, to have a taste. His cock twitched as he watched you staring, and you reached for it.

But Steve already had other plans.

“Later,” he promised you, slotting his body between your thighs. You breathed out at the feeling of his hard dick pressed against your pussy, insistent and ready. “I need to be inside you, baby. I can’t wait another second.”

And with that he pushed inside of you, the stretch intense but incredible. You both moaned deeply as he sunk into your deliciously tight heat, it was everything he imagined and more.

“Mr. Harrington-“ you cried out a moan as he snapped his hips into you, filing you with the rest of his length abruptly. He was so deep his cock was pressed up against your cervix, you had never had a guy so deep inside you before.

Steve shuddered as the formal title accidentally slipped from your lips, holding still as he was buried to the hilt and trying desperately not to cum in 2 seconds. He had never in his life felt a pussy so perfect, so tight and wet and made for his cock. “Fuck…” he hissed.

“Please fuck me,” you begged, moving your hips, desperate for the friction of him moving inside you. Steve groaned again, face buried in your neck, but he slowly drew his hips backwards, pulling out until only his tip remained, then snapped them back into you.

He started a quick pace, like he lost all self control and now could only think about fucking you, losing himself in your perfect cunt. He held your hips as he rutted his cock into you, the noises of your wetness around his cock and his skin on yours filling the room. The sturdy desk groaned under the intensity of his movements.

“Feels so good,” he huffed, moving back to press his lips to yours again. “Perfect little pussy. So much better than I imagined at home with my cock in my hand.”

You moaned, because fuck, he had gotten himself off to the thought of you?

“You’re so big, Mr. Harrington,” you whined, pussy throbbing around him as he hit your g-spot with every deep thrust. Steve seemed to lose the tiny sliver of self control he was desperately holding onto at that, his pace turning brutal and his fingers digging bruises into your hips.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last,” he hissed. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, and I’m not gonna last.”

“Want you to cum in me,” you begged. “I’m so close. I wanna feel you filling me up.”

“H-ohh,” Steve let out a mixture of a moan and a whimper, hips stuttering as he nearly came right then and there. “Cum around my cock, baby girl, and I’ll fill you up just like you want.”

He reached a hand between you and rubbed against your clit, that extra bit of stimulation all you needed to have you clenching around his cock over and over as you came, leaning back and your back arching off the desk as the intense feeling washed over you like a wave. “Mr. Harrington! Steve, I- oh god, oh fuck!”

He wasn’t long behind you, groaning your name loudly as his ropes of cum shot deep into you, balls tightening like he was giving you every drop he had. “Fuck! Fuck!”

He held you, both of you trembling as you came back down to earth. Finally Steve pulled out of you, some of his cum escaping and dripping onto his desk below you. Steve just about lost it right then.

He adjusted himself back into his pants, reaching for the tissue box on the floor to get you cleaned up. You blushed as he did, not used to such sweetness after a hookup. He handed you your panties and you gratefully pulled them back on, pulling your dress back down. You had a party to get back to, after all.

“That was…” You began, unsure what to say.

“Incredible,” Steve took the word from you. “But next time-“

“Next time?” You squeaked out, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

Steve smirked. “Next time, I’m going to take my time with you.”

[clarkeybabey]

❝ but i'ma be under the mistletoe with you ❞

# prompts; 6: "They kiss under the mistletoe." 7: ^ but A does the, "Oops, I'm holding mistletoe above us, guess we have to kiss." thing.

# playlist; mistletoe - Justin Bieber

# word count; 737

# note; merry christmas to all who celebrate, & Happy Holidays to those who don't<333 i missed writing for arthur so much omg.

The holidays are always a stressful time, however, more than half of your family was abroad for Christmas this year, so you all had chosen to do your family celebrations on New Year instead. Arthur and Lisa were more than happy to have you with them instead.

You spent the morning making and eating a full English, exchanging gifts, and going through their old photo albums much to your boyfriend's protests.

His parents turned in early after a bit of chatter over a few glasses of wine, leaving you lying on the couch stuffed from both dinner and copious amounts of cookies. You tap the arm he has lazily resting on your chest, "'m gonna go get some water," he whines but when you lift his arm he sighs, dramatically letting it fall back against his chest.

"Don't be long," he calls out when you disappear off into the kitchen, his eyes catch a branch of mistletoe on the mantle he presumes his mum set out to add to her decor, giving him an idea.

He listens for you intently, when he finally hears you rummaging through the the freezer for ice, he takes the opportunity to set his plan into motion, he grabs the branch and leans against the door frame, silently watching you.

When you turn, you raise the cup to your lips until you spot him and more importantly the mistletoe he's holding above the door, making you snort, "if you wanted a kiss, you could've just asked," you mumble, shaking your head.

You shuffle toward him agonizingly slow. Arthur reaches out for you, his free hand pulling you into him by the front of your matching, festive pajamas. A confident smirk falls from your face, and a gasp escapes you at the sudden movement.

The feeling of the water swishing in the glass, the only sound now is the ice clinking against it. His voice interrupts the silence, suddenly having dropped an octave compared to earlier, "Oh look at that," his eyes flick up to what's pinched between his fingers, "Guess we might have to kiss, now..."

Setting the glass on the counter next to you, before you hum, "Think you might be right."

He smiles content with the fact that you're going along with things, he shrugs, "I don't make the rules," he pulls you into him impossibly closer, watching how your lips twitch slightly. You're floored and Arthur can simultaneously see and feel it, "May I?"

Smiling once more at how he never fails to make sure you're comfortable, "You may," somehow you've found yourself breathless at his words and demeanor alone. He dips down to catch your mouth with his, facial hair tickles your upper lip when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Arthur's hands, warm and strong, slowly slide under the hoodie you had stolen earlier that morning. As he presses you back against the counter, your bodies locked together, you both freeze at the sound of a voice calling out just behind you, "Arthur, you've got a bedroom for a reason."

Lisa, shit. He steps away from you quickly, running his hands over his face and through his hair, "Sorry, mum," he mutters, he always talks about how comfortable they are with talking about certain things but you find yourself wanting to giggle at how he can't meet her eyes.

"She's a nice girl, she doesn't need to be done on my counter," you can't stifle your laughter now, you watch in your peripheral the way his face twists, "Mum! I understand, please," he pleads, obviously hating this conversation.

Lisa scoffs as she turns on her heels deciding she's said enough to his face, but she continues mumbling about raising him to be a gentleman as she disappears around the corner and shuts her bedroom door loudly.

"That's so embarrassing," he groans, hiding his face in his hands with a sigh. You reach for his wrists, tugging them away gently to reveal his reddening cheeks. "'ts not embarrassing," you reassure him, a small smile on your lips. "It's sweet; she cares."

He shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle as he drops it onto your shoulder. "Such a cockblock," he mutters into your ear. You flick the back of his neck, making him step back, rubbing the spot with a mock frown. "Maybe it's a sign we shouldn't be shagging in your parents' house, hm?"

[mytheoristavenue]

Dude I know you don't have any requests but if you ever feel up to it I would absolutely eat up a continuation of your creature x reader fic...perhaps they slowly fall for each other.

Hes just...he's so sweet and the way you write him makes me feral. I'm definitely going to check out your other works.

This is me letting you know that your target audience had been reached

Normally, I would politely decline or ignore requests, as I just don't enjoy doing them anymore for multiple reasons, but I wanted to address this one specifically. Hopefully this isn't too short!

For the sake of this story, let's pretend that the time between the events of the movie span over a longer period.

LF Creature x Reader - Compost

Summary: Creature helps you out in your garden.

Warnings: mentions of rot, bugs, worms, and dung, creature x reader, bisexual reader, reader has a crush on Lisa, continuation of Mutual Comfort, plot holes, not proofread, spelling/gramatical errors, calling Creature Ein

"You look different today," you noticed allowed, squatted over the flower bed, carefully dropping a marigold from your trowel and covering the roots with soil. "Little more alive."

The man behind you grunted in response, prompting you to glance at him over your shoulder. He seemed to have more color in his face, and his hair seemed less stringy. He lifted a discolored hand, and waved it around as if it were an explaination. You simply shrugged, not understanding the meaning, and went back to what you were doing.

"Regaurdless, I appreciate you helping me." you smiled, standing up and admiring your newly replanted marigolds. Another grunt in responce. "Now I need to mix up the compost pile. Mind pushing that wheel barrow over there?" you aske pointing to the object and then to the destination. Nodding, Creature made his way over.

Once he got behind the wheel barrow, however, he scrunched his face in disgust. "What?" you laughed, slumping your shoulders. "Too good for hard labor? He shook his head, letting go of thehandles and covering his nose. Finally, it clicked for you.

"Oh, come on, you big baby. It doesn't stink tha bad." you rolled your eyes, walking over to simply wheel it over yourself. Seeing you prepared to take matters into your own hands, Creature finally pulled himself up by the bootstraps, taking hold of the handles again and pushing it forward. "Its cow dung, if you were curious," you giggled, following him. "My dad has a friend that owns a far and he hooks me up with free manure for the garden."

Once again, Creature grimaced, turning up his nose. "Hey, Zomboy," you scolded playfully. "Your half rotted flest doesn't smell all that much better." He flashed you a hurt expression coupled with a somber groan, making you back peddle. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Finally in front of the compost pile, you grabbed a nearby shovel and began to heave the dung onto the top, the smell never once bothering you. When you were finished, you stuck the shovel in the ground and rested a foot on it, hiking your knee up, and glued your hands to your hips, tired from a hard day's work.

"I don't know about you, but I think today is a good day for some lemonade." You sighed, beginning to walk back toward the house, Creature trailing behind you. "You like lemonade?" He nodded when you glanced back, prompting you to smile. "Go ahead and take a seat," you said, motioning to the patio set to his right. "I'll go get us some."

After a few minutes, you returned, slipping out the back door and into the yard, a glass in each hand, but your eyes lit up before you couven step off the patio. You quickly scurried over to set the glasses down, gushing over what he had. It was a lovely little hand picked bouquet, mostly consisting of wildflowers and weeds. In the short time you were gone, Creature had taken it upon himself to currate you a gift. "Ein..." you breathed, taking it from him and examining it. "You did this for me...?" you asked, oblivious to how silly the question was. He nodded with a timid smile, inviting you to sit with him.

After a moment, your heart dropped, realizing what you'd called him by. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry I called you that!" you fretted. "Lisa told me that was the last little bit of your name, I sholdv'e asked if you'd be kay with being called that."

He seemed to wave your worries off, shaking his head, signalling tha he wasn't bothered. He then bowed his head, something that confused you. "So you are okay with me calling you Ein?" He bowed again, and you were unable to keep the grin from spreading across your face. "Okay, Ein it is then. I suppose we couldn't have just called you 'Creature' forever, right?" He shrugged, as if he truly didn't care what his name ended up being. "Regardless, thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."

The man couldn't help but stare as you admired the little nosegay, noting how eyes eyes lit up when you smiled and your nose scrunched when you laughed. He actually found himself so invested in observing you while sipping his lemonade that he choked a little when your eyes flitted back to him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" you suddenly jumped up, patting his back as he coughed, hunched over. "Ein? Ein! Are you okay?" you panicked, patting a bit harder, and wondering if the heimlick would even work on a corpse. Luckily, that deemed to be unnessisary as he finally spat up whatever was clogging his airway.There on the table, squirmed a very long, slimy earthworm.

"I-Is...is that a worm?" you grimaced, entirely freaked out as you stared at it, eyes flickering back to his every few seconds. Creature was frozen in place, terrified he'd ruined a lovely moment between the two of you, and slapped his hand over the thing, shaking his head no. "You're telling me I didn't just watch you spit up a worm onto my dad's patio table? You're telling me if I move your hand, there's not gonna be a worm?"

Hesitantly, he shook his head with a nervous smile, resisting as hard as possible when you grabbed his hand to move it. Though you had no time to think about it then, you couldn't help but notice the way the stitches holding his hand on felt under your finger tips- definately an interesting sensation.

Finally, you managed to lift his hand up, still holding it, and proved yourself right, once again staring at the wiggly little thing on the table. With a sigh, and ignoring his protests, you reached down and lifted it into your palm. "Got anymore?"

Creature sheepishly shook his head and got up to follow you as you walked away. "Well, this little guy is going in my compost pile." you decided, pinching the worm out of your palm and setting it on top of the pile. "And if it has any buddies in there, they're welcome to the pile too." you smiled, grabbing his hand again.

"I like you," you confessed with a giggle. "A few little bugs aren't gonna scare me away."

I hope this was along the lines of what you were looking for! Sorry it was so rushed, it probably has a million errors, as my gramarly is suddenly not working!

[supernotnatural2005]

The Full Circle

Pairing: College!Dean x Reader AU

Summary: A tale of mutual pinning, miscommunication and heartbreak. Will the reader and Dean finally figure it all out?

Word Count: 3.2k

Prompt: "Don't take me for granted!"

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angst, feelings are hard! Drinking, swearing.

AN: Okay so this one was a tough one 😅 i don’t know why i struggled so much with this prompt, i wrote like 5 different stories lol. But this is the one that stuck. Another square filled for @jacklesversebingo I hope you enjoy 💕 feedback is appreciated 💕

Main Masterlist

JVB Masterlist

The bass from the speakers thumped in rhythm with the nerves twisting in your stomach as you stepped through the door of Ash’s place. The apartment was already packed, the air thick with the scent of alcohol, cheap cologne, and the unmistakable energy of a party well underway. 

Charlie nudged you playfully with her elbow, grinning as she surveyed the scene. “Relax,” she said, noticing your anxiousness, you had been a little off lately and she thought this would be a good way to get you out of your funk. “We’re gonna have some fun tonight.” 

Fun.

You wished it were that simple. But you knew he would be here.

Your fingers clenched around the strap of your purse as you followed Charlie inside, weaving through the mass of people. The excitement of the party barely registered through the storm in your chest. 

You had been to countless parties before—hell, you’d been to plenty here at Ash’s place—but this was the first one where you felt like you didn’t quite belong. Because two weeks ago, you had made the biggest mistake of your life.

Or maybe it wasn’t a mistake at all.

“Hey, there’s my favourite new wingwoman!” Jo’s voice rang out, breaking through your thoughts. Her blonde hair was curled in loose waves, her wide grin easy and familiar as she pulled you into a hug. “Come on, I need you to help me school these idiots in beer pong.”

You smirked, letting the energy of the party pull you in. “Oh, absolutely. Let’s crush them.”

Jo clapped her hands together. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Ash appeared with a beer in each hand, passing one to Charlie. His lazy grin and signature mullet were as ridiculous as ever. “You guys made it. I was starting to think you bailed.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Charlie replied, already taking a sip.

Before you could respond, Jo grabbed your wrist and dragged you toward the beer pong table. A small crowd had gathered, cups already set up, the air buzzing with playful competition.

“You’re going down, Harvelle,” Benny taunted from the other side of the table, standing next to some unfortunate teammate who already looked nervous.

Jo scoffed, grabbing a ping pong ball. “That’s cute, Lafitte. Real cute.” She tossed the ball, sinking it in one shot. The group erupted in cheers and groans, and you laughed as Benny’s teammate sighed, already reaching for his drink.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to dominate the game, sending team after team packing. You felt lighter, almost giddy, as you landed another perfect shot, throwing your arms up victoriously.

Jo whooped, nudging your shoulder. “Hell yeah! That’s my girl!”

“Y’all are cheating,” Ash grumbled from the sidelines, shaking his head.

“Don’t be bitter,” Charlie teased, bumping his hip with hers.

You grinned, soaking in the moment, the warmth of alcohol settling in your veins, and let yourself relax into the atmosphere, mingling with your friends. The tension in your chest lessened—until you turned your head and saw him.

Dean.

The sight of him sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was standing near the kitchen, laughing at something Cas said. And Lisa was right beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her body angled toward him like he was her whole world.

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t like you hadn’t known she would be here. But knowing and seeing were two very different things.

Dean’s eyes lifted, and for a split second, they locked onto yours. His smile faltered. The air between you shifted, invisible threads tightening and pulling. But then, just as quickly, he looked away, muttering something to Lisa, and your throat closed up.

Charlie must have noticed because she nudged you again. “You good?”

You swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

You weren’t.

The night pressed on, alcohol dulling the edges of your pain. You found yourself actually enjoying the party, letting the noise and laughter drown out the ache in your chest. You danced with Jo, took shots with Ash, and even managed to joke around with Cas and Meg. For a while, it was almost easy to forget.

Almost.

You had been on your way to the bathroom, the buzz making your steps lighter than they should have been, when you rounded the corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Whoa,” Dean’s hands shot out to steady you. “You alright?”

Your skin burned where he touched you. You stepped back quickly, shaking off the daze. “I’m fine.”

He hesitated, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

The question knocked the air from your lungs. You blinked up at him, surprised. “Talk?”

Dean’s jaw tensed, his green eyes searching yours. “Yeah. About…about that night.”

That night.

The words sent a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you—longing, regret, anger. The alcohol in your system made it impossible to shove them down this time.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, now you want to talk about it?”

His eyes darkened. “Come on, it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “You’re still with her, Dean.”

His lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but before he could, a voice called down the hall.

“Dean?”

Lisa.

Your heart clenched. You sucked in a sharp breath, brushed past him, and shoved the bathroom door open before locking yourself inside.

Your hands trembled as you gripped the sink, staring at your reflection. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes shining with frustration and something deeper, something you didn’t want to name.

After a little while spent calming yourself down, a knock came at the door. “Hey,” Charlie’s voice was softer than usual. “You okay?”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

“You sure?”

You exhaled shakily. “Yeah.”

When you finally rejoined the party, Charlie eyed you carefully before murmuring, “Dean’s been in a mood all night.” She took a sip from her drink, her gaze shrewd. “Something going on with you two?”

Of course she'd noticed the distance between you both, and it wasn't the first time she'd asked. But your answer was always the same.

You forced a smile, ignoring the lump in your throat. “Nope.”

Charlie didn’t believe you. But thankfully, she didn’t push.

You let the party swallow you whole again, pretending, just for a little while longer, that your heart wasn’t breaking all over again.

The night stretched on, the alcohol dulling the edges of your pain but not enough to make you forget the way Dean’s gaze found you every few minutes. It was never long, never obvious, but it was enough. Enough to keep your heart lodged in your throat, enough to make you reach for another drink each time you caught him looking.

You weren’t the only one getting drunker by the minute—Dean was knocking back beers like he was trying to drown something, and maybe he was.

The party carried on in full force. Jo and Ash had somehow convinced Cas, to do a ridiculous impression of his favourite movie character, which ended in him dramatically monologuing in his deep, gravelly voice about how “profound” love was while Meg cackled beside him. 

Someone, probably Jo, suggested a game of spin the bottle, and in your drunken haze, you let yourself be dragged into it. Dean was already sitting in the circle when you plopped down beside Charlie. Unfortunately, that put you right next to him. 

Lisa was on his other side, chatting away to him whilst you tried to ignore the close proximity. The way his knee brushed yours every so often, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, and the soothing warmth of his body heat. 

The dares started off innocent enough. Jo spun and had to take a shot off Charlie’s stomach, which ended in her nearly choking on tequila while everyone laughed. Garth kissed Benny, which neither of them seemed to mind. Meg was dared to whisper the dirtiest thing she could think of into Cas’s ear, and whatever she said had him turning an alarming shade of red.

Then Meg, drunk and mischievous, turned to Dean with a lazy smirk. “Alright, Winchester. I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

Your stomach dropped. The group hollered, whistling as everyone waited for Dean to do something. You braced yourself for him to turn to Lisa, to get it over with—but he didn’t.

Instead, before you could react, his lips crashed against yours.

The world tilted. The room faded. Your heart slammed against your ribs as his hands cupped your face, his lips warm and firm against yours. It was so wrong, but felt so, so right. Like everything you had ever wanted, everything you had been aching for since that night.

But then reality slammed into you—Lisa.

You pulled away, eyes wide, heart pounding.

The room fell silent, all laughter fading into hushed whispers. And then Lisa was climbing to her feet and rushing for the door. 

She was already halfway, her face set in a mix of hurt and fury, before Dean blinked, as if just realising what he had done, and immediately pushed himself to his feet, following after her.

A heavy silence settled over the room, but it didn’t last long.

“What did I say, huh?” Lisa’s voice rang out from the hallway, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Don’t take me for granted!” Lisa was furious, her voice shaking. 

Everyone winced. You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting painfully.

“You promised me nothing was going on!”

“Lisa, I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

You couldn’t listen to it anymore. You needed air.

Stumbling to your feet, you made a beeline for the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you gripped the sink. Your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and flushed, lips still tingling from Dean’s kiss.

Why did he do that? What was he thinking?

Your breath came uneven, chest rising and falling too fast. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was everything. The weeks of silence, the confusion, the guilt, the ache of loving him when you knew you shouldn’t. He had kissed you so easily, so thoughtlessly, in front of everyone. Like you were something he could just have. But then why had he let you go so easily after that night? Why had he stayed with her?

A knock at the door made you jolt.

“Y/N, it’s me.” Dean’s voice was muffled but unmistakable. “Can we please talk?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Go away, Dean.”

“Please. Just… let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Your voice wavered as you turned, pressing your back against the door. “That you’re still with her? That you let me believe I was just some stupid mistake? That you—” Your breath hitched, and you shook your head. “I can’t do this. Not here.”

You yanked the door open, brushing past him before he could stop you. The apartment felt too small, too suffocating. You needed to get out.

Charlie spotted you the moment you stepped into the main room, her brows furrowing as she saw your expression. “Hey, where are you—”

You didn’t answer, just shoved through the crowd, stepping out into the cold night air. The second the door shut behind you, you exhaled sharply, your hands trembling.

Charlie was right behind you. “Okay, what the hell happened in there?”

You let out a bitter laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walked down the quiet street. The cool night air did little to soothe the heat still burning under your skin. “I slept with Dean.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Two weeks ago.” The words tumbled out in a rush, your voice shaking. “We were drinking, talking, and it just… happened.” Your breaths came uneven, heart still racing from the disaster you had just left behind.

Charlie stared at you, processing. “Jesus Christ.” She ran a hand through her hair, looking torn between shock and exasperation. “I knew something was up. You two have been acting weird as hell. But this?” She let out a breath, shaking her head. “Shit.”

You swallowed hard, guilt settling deep in your stomach. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt,” you admitted. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I’m just so confused.”

Charlie softened. She could see the way your body trembled, whether from the cold, the adrenaline, or the sheer weight of everything, she wasn’t sure.

Without a word, she pulled you into her arms, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Okay,” she murmured. “Okay, deep breaths. We’ll figure it out. But first, let’s get you home, get me a strong-ass coffee so I can process all this, and then we’ll talk. Sound good?”

You nodded into her shoulder, blinking back tears.

The walk back to the apartment was mostly silent, except for the occasional sniffle from you and the way Charlie muttered something about “dumbass Winchesters” under her breath. Once inside, you changed into sweats, Charlie made her coffee, and then you told her everything.

You told her about how you had always felt about Dean, how it had never seemed like the right time, how you both kept dating other people as if that would fix things. You told her about that night, how you had been comforting him, the way he had opened up about his mom, who was sick, the drinks, the lingering touches that had turned into something more.

“And then I panicked,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I left the next morning because I didn’t know what to say, I felt so guilty. But then that afternoon, I went to talk to him. I was ready to apologise, to at least get everything out in the open.” You swallowed, throat tightening. “But then I saw Lisa going into his apartment. Like nothing had changed. And it stung. It hurt so much, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed, rubbing her face. “And he just… stayed with her?”

You nodded. “I waited for him to end it. To say something. But he didn’t. So I distanced myself.”

Charlie looked down at her coffee, then back at you. “I don’t know what to say, dude. Lisa isn’t exactly my favourite person in the world, she barely tolerates any of us, and yeah, Dean has been distant because of her… but she didn’t deserve that.” She met your eyes, her voice softer now. “Neither did you.”

You exhaled shakily. “I feel awful. But at the same time, I’m in love with him, Charlie. And it fucking hurts.”

Charlie reached across the couch, squeezing your hand. “I get it. And I get why you’re pissed, but… maybe you should let him explain.”

You scoffed, but before you could respond, a knock at the door had both of your heads snapping up.

Charlie arched an eyebrow. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You already knew who it was before Charlie even moved to open the door.

Dean.

He looked wrecked. His hair was a mess, his green eyes glassy, his jaw clenched like he was barely holding it together. “Is she here?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Charlie glanced back at you. “You wanna hear him out?”

You hesitated. But then you nodded.

Charlie stepped aside, letting him in before shooting him a glare. “Don’t be an ass.” Then she disappeared into her room, leaving the two of you alone.

Dean exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before meeting your gaze. “I fucked up.”

You swallowed; arms crossed protectively over yourself. “Yeah. You did.”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue but knew he had no right to. Instead, he took a slow step forward. “I need you to know that morning you left? It felt like a punch to the gut. I woke up, and you were gone. No note, no call, nothing. I thought… I thought you regretted it. That it didn’t mean anything to you.”

Your breath hitched. “That’s not… I just didn’t know what to say.”

Dean let out a shaky breath. “And that day, when Lisa came over… I was going to tell her. I swear. But before I could, she told me her grandma died. And I didn’t know what to do.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And then you started pulling away, and I just felt like I was drowning. I fucked up. I know I did. But I need you to know that it’s always been you. Since the moment I met you, it’s been you. I just… I was too much of a coward to admit it before.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Do you know how much that hurt, Dean?” Your voice cracked. “Watching you with her, waiting for you to say something, to do something—but you didn’t. And I thought I meant nothing to you.”

His face twisted in pain. “You mean everything to me.”

The weight of the night, the emotions, the months—years—of feelings left unspoken all crashed down on you at once. Your breath hitched, your vision blurred with tears as you sank onto the couch, your hands trembling as they covered your face. It was too much. All of it. The heartbreak, the confusion, the love you had carried for him for so long.

A moment later, you felt him. Dean knelt in front of you, his hands carefully wrapping around yours, pulling them away from your face. “Hey, look at me,” he whispered, his voice gentle but urgent.

You did. And the way he was looking at you—it made your breath catch. There was so much emotion in his eyes, so much love, so much regret.

“I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you since the first damn moment I met you. And I’m sorry. For everything. For waiting too long, for hurting you, for not being brave enough to do something about this sooner.” He swallowed hard, squeezing your hands.

“Lisa and I—we’re done. I should have ended it earlier; I should have never let things get this messy. But all I want is you. If you’ll have me, I’m yours. No more doubts, no more waiting. Just you and me. Always.”

A shaky sob escaped you as you stared at him, searching his face for any hesitation, any doubt. There was none. Just Dean, raw and open, laying his heart at your feet.

You didn’t think. You just surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate, aching kiss. He responded immediately, his hands cupping your face, holding you to him like he was terrified you might slip away again. The kiss was everything—a promise, an apology, a confession all in one.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard, your fingers tangled together.

“Always,” you whispered, and the way his lips curved into a soft, relieved smile before kissing you again told you everything you needed to know.

AN: Okay this one was a little on the angsty side, but there was a happy ending right? for some... 👀😅 I just want to throw out there that I don't condone cheating, just adding a little flavour other than all around fluff for once lol. I hope you all enjoyed! 💕 Feedback is much appreciated 💕

Also did any of you get the Perks of being a wallflower parallel? 👀

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[queers-gambit]

Campus Breakdown

prompt: ( requested ) after a hard day, at least you can come home to him.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: reader's a graduate student, cursing, small angst but mostly small hurt bigger comfort.

The door slammed shut in a forceful rattle, making Carmy perk up from his place on the couch. "Baby?" He called, setting aside the magazine you left behind.

"Carmy?" You sounded confused, exiting the foyer to round into the living room. "Hey, what're you doing home so early?"

"Uh, pipe burst at work, left Fak t'deal with it," he sniffled, muting the television. "What's up with you? Or do you always slam doors happily around here?"

You sighed, "Sorry, I just - it's been a day and a half, you know?"

He pouted dramatically, offering, "Wanna tell me 'bout it?"

"It won't fix what happened."

"No, but it might help get it off your chest, filter a little emotion."

You nodded absently, "I think I might want a glass of wine first - maybe two."

He felt a surge of empathy in his chest, knowing that distant look in your eyes and the way your entire demeanor seemed absent, distracted, exhausted. Work often kicked his ass, too, so there was an understanding after so many nights you had let him rant and rave about whatever went wrong - it was only right to return the favor.

Carmy readjusted the pillows and coffee table, leaning over to light the scented candle you kept there; grabbing a blanket to prepare for you. When you entered the living room, you had stripped out of your pants and was pouring a glass of wine, leaving the bottle on the cleaned-up coffee table; sighing when you dropped onto the couch.

"All right, pretty girl," Carmy chuckled, pulling your feet into his lap. You readjusted with a small grumble as Carmy then tossed the blanket over you, but left your feet out for him to massage. "Tell me what happened today."

You held up a single finger, downing more than half your glass of wine. Carm's brows perked up, blinking in shock before nodding slowly when you swallowed. "Today. Fucking. Sucked," you told him.

"I can see that, and feel it - your feet are knotted," he noted, working his thumbs into the meat. "Did you sit down at all today?"

"Well, no, 'cause I had to work alone today," you groaned. "Lisa has mono, Brittany had to make up some exam, Benjamin apparently had a meeting with the bursar's office, and Stacy literally stood outside, fighting with her boyfriend - like what!?"

Carmy offered you a stale look in reaction to your story, "She get docked?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, I kinda had to; she didn't bus a single table, she didn't talk to a single customer, like, the only other person working with me today was Carl and he was in the kitchen the whole time."

"Doesn't sound exactly fair..."

"It's a shitty campus diner, Carmy, 'fair' isn't exactly in their vocabulary, but the tips are semi decent 'cause we have that 'drunk rush special'. Oh! Wait! That's not all," you hummed, taking another gulp. "'Cause why would anything go right on a day I worked the entire floor alone? Right?"

"What else?" He asked, turning in his seat so he could face you directly; still massaging your feet, but leaning his cheek on your bent knee to remain close.

"The fucking register went down."

"You mean the only one in the whole place?"

"Yep, of course! 'Cause why the fuck wouldn't anything go right?" You scoffed. "And it's not like any of this was, like, hidden, you know? It was very obvious I was working alone, the register was fucked, but do you think that made anyone empathetic towards the situation? No, of course not, they wanted to just pay their bills and leave. Which I fucking get! But like, what!?"

"What'd you do?"

"Took cash only," you shrugged. "ATM was still up and running, so it was on them," you wiped you eyes, sighing deeply. "Still bitched the whole time though, complained to whoever listened. End of the night, that new manager even docked my tips, you believe that?"

"Hold up - for what?" Carm snapped.

"Customers were that pissed, Carmy, so a few of them dined-and-dashed, someone had to pay," you whined, head tilted back. "Like I did any of this on purpose? Like I went and unplugged shit myself? Like I wanted to make my life significantly harder? Do people even fucking think by themselves now? Where's the empathy?"

"Nah, they definitely lack in that department," he chuckled. "Know what I'm gonna say, right?"

"Hmm? Oh, Carmy, no," you groaned, "I'm not working at The Beef."

"It's ten times better than where you work, baby," he pouted. "And I could use someone with experience like yours with the customers. Richie's not always the best 'face of the store', you know?"

"No, Carmy," you refused sternly.

"C'mon, why not?"

"You as my boss? And boyfriend? Fuck no!"

"I'm literally so nice!"

"Yeah, that's exactly what Sydney says," you laughed, nudging his stomach with your foot. "Baby, no. Listen, I appreciate it, I really do, but I get ten times the tips at that shitty diner than I would at The Beef, and it's right on campus so I lose literally no time."

He sighed, "You're only, what? A year out from your Masters?"

"Just about," you grumbled with a pout.

Carmy chuckled, "C'mon, baby, don't torture yourself. Get a new job."

"I'm not, I'm just - " You cut yourself off with a sigh, hating that advice (as if it were just so simple), shaking your head and finishing your wine. "I'm just dealing with my current circumstances, I'm sorry I came home in a bad mood - "

"No, hey, wait," Carmy sat up, reaching for your cheek to hold, "I didn't mean to make you feel as if I was shutting you down. Baby, I always want you t'talk to me, okay? I just mean, there's something better out there, and you deserve better than that place. I hate seeing you so stressed out," he pouted dramatically, making you snicker lightly.

"You're one to talk," you reminded softly, sitting up so you could nestle under his arm. "You're stressed out, like, more than 90% of the time."

"Hey now, we're talkin' about your day, not mine," he deflected with a small chuckle. "What if I asked around a bit? You know, a different server job? I can check out places close to campus, but you'd get much better tips and better customers at a nicer place."

You groaned, "Now that sounds nice." He chuckled with you now. "I mean, it's bad enough I have to deal with those creepy frat boys in class, but in the diner, I have to play nice 'cause they tip with daddy's money well if I don't shut them up. It'd be nice working somewhere they couldn't even afford t'walk into."

"See? I'm good for something."

"You're good for everything, Carm, shut up," you laughed, leaning up to kiss his jawline. "I'm just tired of this whole 'pay your dues' bullshit. You know? I get having to suffer a little to build a better character, but for fuck's sake."

Carmy pouted, "Sounds like a second glass of wine kinda rant?"

You pouted back at him, nodding, both mockingly making little noises as he lifted from his sitting position to snag the bottle of wine. You smiled as he poured, watching his face, loving the effect he had on you; feeling calm and serene, and it wasn't the alcohol. When the bottle was set aside again, he tugged your legs over his lap and laid one of his arms around your shoulders; keeping you snuggled close and under the blanket.

"What else happened?" He asked softly, kissing your temple.

"I don't want to sound like I'm just bitching."

"How else do you expect to blow off steam? Huh?" He countered. "You're not bothering me, I want to hear this, baby - all of it. So, lemme recount, yeah? Okay, so, you worked alone your whole shift with only the frycook in the back, the cash register went down, and that made a buncha customers all pissed off. Enough that a few dipped off and you had to cover their bills. But the ATM was good, so they could still pay cash, but they were still being dickheads, yeah?"

"Mhm," you hummed, halting yourself.

"Nuh-uh, c'mon, what else?"

Tears sprung to your eyes as your head lulled onto his shoulder. "It was just a really shitty day, Carm," you whispered, giving a small sniffle. "Guys are grimy and gross, they garnished my wages 'cause of those dashers - I told you. It was a fucking shit show! Oh, and a few bulbs blew all within 10 minutes of each other - like fully snap, crackle, and pop, blew out. So, I had to call the electrician, he took over 2 hours to get there, so, part of the back dining room was darker and this group of guys all decided to sit back there - it was so fucking creepy!"

Carmen frowned, listening to you rant and rave about how overworked and under appreciated you were. He held you tight, raking a hand through your hair, tracing invisible patterns on your upper arm; keeping you close as the wine slowly sunk into your blood. You grew less lucid by the passing hour, mostly the exhaustion sinking in, but Carmy didn't mind.

He just adjusted you both on the couch so he was laid out with you safely tucked between the cushions and his body. You had long since changed subjects; going from shitty work conditions to sports to your coursework load, then to The Beef, breezed over whatever Richie's daily attitude was about, then quietly debated if Carmy was taking the weekend off to spend it with you. Now, the TV was the only light on in the apartment, wine bottle empty, you resting on Carmy's chest; his arms tight around you, blanket tangled around your legs, both speaking quietly into the night before sleep claimed you both.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter Seven

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 3715 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. Domestic Dave. Good Dad kink. We like thick thighs in this house and so does Dave. Nicknames and terms of endearment. Mummy is a whole lotta bitch. No use of y/n. Lots of cursing, talk of sex toys, and a bj.

a/n: This chapter features a prompt from @yxtkiwiyxt's Never Have I Ever challenge. The prompt was Never have I ever been to an adult store. I've added a little bit of context to the beginning of this chapter so it can conceivably be read as a standalone, but just makes more sense if reading the larger story. Hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Chapter Seven

Now that Dave had a taste, he was quickly becoming addicted to you. He couldn’t stay away, sneaking down to the basement to spend time with you after Lisa went to bed, coming and going from his office more often than usual, using the private entrance from the garage to enter the house rather than the main entrance. Anything and everything he did was designed to set eyes – or hands – on you more frequently.

However, in front of your mom, he still played the role of faithful, if not loving spouse. It pained him more each day to do so, but he had to be to maintain appearances. There was still too much at stake.

He didn’t miss the pained look that crossed your face sometimes when you’d come up to the kitchen in the mornings to find him seated at the table with your mom and the girls like the perfect little family. Or when Lisa would put her hands on him, trying to snuggle into his side or putting her head on his shoulder while he sat on the couch. It never lasted long, that look on your face or the touches from Lisa since he always pulled away, but the effects lingered.

It hurt Dave for you to see those things, the look on your face, when you did, tore at his heart, knowing how you felt. It was a necessary evil, though, and he convinced himself it was okay because you never asked any questions about his marriage to your mom. You avoided the topic altogether, which suited Dave just fine. He couldn’t have told you the truth anyway. Not yet.

Christmas was particularly difficult, Lisa making a big fuss over him to the point he thought she was putting on a show to make you uncomfortable. All it did was make Dave really uncomfortable. He spoiled the girls, getting them everything on their wish lists and then some. His gifts to your mom were practical and simple, much to her disappointment. He knew you heard their raised voices later that day as she reamed him for the thoughtless gifts.

Dave didn’t give a shit. His mind was focused on you, on making sure the gifts he gave you were perfect. He had two sets – one consisting of candles to give in front of Lisa and the girls and the real, special one to give you in private. He gave you his heart on a string, basically – a necklace with a heart-shaped diamond, which you loved.

Still, he felt like it wasn’t enough, not for what you meant to him, for the ever-deepening feelings he had for you.

That’s why he doted on you whenever he could, playing any silly game you insisted on while sharing a bottle of wine or mimosas on the basement couch after your mom and the girls were asleep. Tonight, for example, the two of you sat facing each other on the cushy furniture, eyes glassy with laughter and a bit of a buzz from the delicious mimosas in your hands, as you declared the latest game.

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever!”

Dave groaned, but he couldn’t deny you, not with how cute and happy you looked, sitting cross-legged on the couch, torso leaning back against the armrest with a half-full glass in your hand. You were incandescent in that moment, smile brighter than the full moon outside, and Dave could do nothing but grin back at you.

“Fine,” he caved, mind whirring for the most salacious topic he could think of. He wanted to make you squirm, but he needed a moment to come up with something. “You first.”

One finger tapping against your pretty lips, you hummed in thought. Smile widening across your face, eyebrows raising excitedly, you settled on something. “Never have I ever… gone to an adult store.”

Dave’s brow shot upwards, surprised by that confession. He had, several times, and took a sip of the bubbling citrusy cocktail, his eyes never leaving yours. Despite his surprise, your question led him to one of his own, something he was certain you wouldn’t have done. Not if you’d never even visited an adult store.

Leaning forward eagerly, you watched his throat bob as he swallowed, pupils dilating prettily. Tempted as he was to kiss you right then, Dave eyed you smugly instead, awaiting your reaction to what he was about to say. “Never have I ever… used a vibrating cock ring.”

Your mouth dropped open comically as you stared wide-eyed at him, causing Dave to chuckle darkly. Fuck, how he’d like to try one out with you. He nearly choked when you gathered yourself and took a sip of your mimosa, sending a cheeky wink at him.

“Wait, what?” His brain could not compute.

Giggling at his reaction, you shrugged. “What? I may have never set foot in an adult store, but I’ve tried a toy or two before.”

“Fuck,” Dave breathed, a surge of unexpected jealousy sweeping through him at the thought of you trying out toys with any other man.

“Color me surprised you’ve never used one,” you teased. “A man of your experience?”

A crease formed between his eyes as he pouted at you. “Are you implying that I’m old?”

Again, you giggled, the sound warming his insides. He loved making you laugh. “No! I just thought with two marriages under your belt, you’d probably done a lot, tried all the toys, or whatever.”

Dave couldn’t help the frown that made its home on his face, torn between wanting to tell you everything and nothing at all about those marriages. You softened at the sight, reaching across the space between you to caress the line between his brows. “I’m not judging, promise. I’m just surprised. Your cock would look amazing with one wrapped around the base.”

He couldn’t speak with that visual in his head, the blood flowing south stole his ability to form words, and you added in a suddenly shy voice, “Maybe we could go to the store and pick one out to try together?”

Fuck, he loved that idea. Visions of the two of you choosing sex toys together, and then going home to try them out washed over him, taking over every thought in his head. His cock, already half hard from the pleasant buzz of champagne and his proximity to you, was fully hard now, pushing against the confines of his boxer briefs.

Your eyes, wide and full of salacious thoughts of your own, darted downwards to take in the bulge in his sweatpants becoming ever more visible. The tip of your pink tongue darted out, gliding against your bottom lip as you stared, and Dave felt his cock twitch in anticipation.

The electricity between you sparked, but he wasn’t quite ready to give into it yet – the build-up was as fun as the grand finale.

“What else have you never tried?” Dave asked, his voice deep and raspy, cutting the air like lightning.

Arousal was clear in your gaze as you bit your bottom lip in thought. “I’ve always wanted to wake up to someone balls deep inside me. Like, when I’m lying on my stomach, you know?”

“Holy fuck,” Dave muttered. The need, the want, became too much and he yanked you closer until you sat in his lap. Playful conversation turned to kissing and before either of you knew it, you slid to the floor and were on your knees for him.

You gave him the blow job of a lifetime that night. He never spurted that much cum before – so much it filled your mouth and dribbled over your chin. The sight of you with his cum on your beautiful face caused two more ropes to spill from his cock, painting your chest as you leaned back to swallow and catch your breath.

He fell harder in love with you as you stared up at him all blissful and doe-eyed while still on your knees for him.

“Honey?” your mom called as she walked through the front door. The way her voice simpered, you knew she was calling for Dave, not you. She’d been switching back and forth from ignoring your presence to nagging the hell out of you lately. You preferred the former, for obvious reasons.

He grimaced, glancing at you from his spot at the breakfast bar while you helped Alice and Molly with a puzzle on the dining table. With a sigh, he called back, “Yeah?”

Entering the room with a broad smile and a card in her hand, she sidled up to her husband. “Roger and Mary invited us to a last-minute New Year’s Eve party at their house tonight.” Her long, red nails scratched down his back, catching in the fabric of his shirt and you turned away with an uncomfortable shudder. “They invited all of us, though I suspect it will be only you and me by midnight. You wouldn’t want the girls staying out that late.”

She looked at you then, flashing a knowing smirk. “Since you’re obviously not doing anything tonight, you can keep an eye on the girls at the party and bring them home early so Dave and I can enjoy ourselves.”

“Lisa,” Dave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not necess—"

You cut him off, your hackles up from your mom’s attitude. “Excuse me?”  She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the point. Of course, you would watch them, for Dave’s sake, not your mother’s. But would it kill the bitch to ask instead of assuming?

Looking at you like you were an idiot, your mom spoke slowly, obnoxiously, as she approached the table. “The girls. Alice and Molly, do you remember them?” She gestured toward the wide-eyed little girls like you weren’t sitting right fucking next to them. “You’ll make sure they don’t get into trouble at the party while Dave and I are busy socializing.”

You wanted to slap her smug face but you swallowed the violent urge and settled on irritation instead. “Right, because I clearly have no life outside of this house.”

Lisa smirked again, patting your cheek like you were a fucking child. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Sometimes you fucking hated that woman. The things you would say if the girls weren’t sitting right there watching everything unfold.

Dave’s eyes locked onto yours, his gaze soft as he jumped in to distract your mother so you could calm down from the rage building inside you. Your mom reached for new levels of bitchiness each day.

“I doubt I’ll make it to midnight myself,” he said. “I’ll probably go home when they do.”

Your mom pouted at that, and you tuned them out as it turned into a hushed argument. In fact, you avoided your mother altogether for the rest of the day, choosing to keep the girls entertained until it was time to get ready for the party. You helped them put on the cute dresses their maternal grandparents gave them for Christmas, curling their hair and sweeping the lightest dusting of powder on their sweet faces because they wanted to look pretty like you.

“See? Just a little glow and you both look like beautiful princesses going to the ball,” you said, smiling as they admired themselves in the mirror.

“This is so cool,” Alice said, turning her head from side to side.

Molly grinned. “We look just like you.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you kissed the tops of their heads, careful not to mess up their hair. Goodness, you loved these girls.

You were quick with your own preparations, adding a little curl to your hair and understated makeup to your face. Opting for simplicity, you went with the trusted little black dress that had seen you through most major events in your adulthood. You were just digging out a pair of heels to wear with it when Dave appeared in your doorway, decked out in a slate gray suit with a dark blue tie, hair swept back off his forehead and a brightness shining in his eyes at the sight of you.

“You look beautiful,” he said in a low, soft voice as he stepped into the room. One large hand brushed down the fabric of your dress, following the curves of your body, and he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead.

“You look rather dashing yourself, Mister.” Your eyelids fluttered shut at the press of his lips against your skin. A little sigh slipped past your glossy lips as you breathed in the rich scent of his cologne.

Dave’s eyes searched yours as he stepped back. “I wanted to talk to you before we head to the party.”

“Ok,” you replied, a hint of worry in your voice as you sat on the edge of your bed. Dave followed, sitting next to you and slipping a hand into your lap to tangle his fingers with yours.

“It’s nothing bad, Firecracker,” he smiled. “It’s just…”

“It’s just the first time we’ll be in public together since things… changed between us.”

His eyes softened, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter. “Exactly. We’ll need to be careful, especially in front of Roger. He’s… not a man whose attention I want on you.”

“Why is that?” you asked, brows furrowed curiously. “Is he a criminal or something? Wait, are you investigating him?”

Dave shook his head, his smile faltering a bit. “I can’t tell you that. Just stay away from him, okay? Anna – the woman from that day in the café – stay clear of her, too. Please.”

You nodded, looking away and muttering, “Of course.” A tug on your hand drew your eyes back to his, and he leaned over to softly kiss your mouth. A hint of your lip gloss lingered on his lips when he pulled back with a grin. The sight broke the tension, and you chuckled, wiping away the evidence with your thumb.

“I wish I could walk into that party holding your hand, not hers,” Dave offered sincerely, lifting your hand to kiss each of your knuckles.

“Me, too.” After a beat, you added, “Maybe someday.”

Dave looked at you with such a soft, hopeful look before leaving the room, it left you with an aching, jealous heart.

This night was going to be torture, you thought.

And it was.

Roger’s house was alive with music and laughter, champagne flutes clinking as guests milled about in glittering attire. The girls ran ahead, already excited by the sight of a variety of desserts laid out in the dining room.

Your mom wasted no time draping herself around Dave, greeting Roger and his wife with an air of effortless charm. You kept to the sidelines, watching, observing with one eye always on the girls.

Seeing your mom and Dave together like this, smiling at each other as they worked the room, his arm around her small waist, the occasional kiss to his cheek from her garishly red lips. All of it fucking sucked to watch and you questioned why you even bothered to come to this party with them in the first place.

A huge part of you ached to bolt, take the girls, and leave the party without any explanation. Observing your mom tangle her fingers in that same shock of hair at the base of Dave’s neck that you liked to play with had you taking a step toward the door.

And then, you felt it.

Dave’s gaze.

It burned into you with a longing so strong your skin prickled with goosebumps. You decided to stay put just so he’d keep looking at you like that.

And he did.

Every time you turned, you caught him looking, his soulful eyes saying everything. He checked on the girls frequently, but his eyes always found you, no matter where you were in the room.

If not for those shared glances, the subtle winks at you, and the quirk of his lips when your gazes locked, you would be dying inside.

You were getting another glass of wine from the bartender the Grants hired for the evening when you spotted a vaguely familiar face approaching your mom and Dave.

It was Anna, the woman you saw in the café with Dave. The one he told you to stay away from.

Her eyes cataloged your mom and Dave with interest, a smirk playing at her lips. She joined the small group they were talking to, stepping too close to Dave for your comfort. Fingernails dancing up his suit jacket, she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

He froze at whatever she said, and a frown marred your brow as your gut twisted.

Torture. This night was nothing but fucking torture.

Suddenly, a presence loomed too close beside you.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You turned to find Roger, his grin lazy, beady eyes scanning you in a way that made your skin crawl.

“It’s a lovely party,” you replied politely, stepping back to create distance between you. Roger quickly closed the space.

“You must be Lisa’s daughter. We haven’t had a chance to officially meet yet. You’re always so occupied… They keep you busy over there.”

You tensed, glancing across the room, but Dave was nowhere in sight.

Roger reached for a stray lock of your hair, twirling it between his fingers. “You know, I see now why Dave keeps you hidden away. If I had someone like you around…”

You jerked back, heart pounding. You did not like where that observation was heading, but a deep, stern voice interrupted the uncomfortable moment before you could react further.

“Roger.” Dave’s voice was ice.

Roger turned, all casual charm, but the flicker of unease in his eyes met Dave’s was unmistakable. He must know what Dave was capable of. “Relax, York. We’re just making conversation. You certainly have your hands full being surrounded by such beautiful women.”

Dave’s jaw tightened as he muttered, “Find someone else to make conversation with.”

For a long moment, Roger seemed like he might push back just to be an ass. But whatever he saw in Dave’s expression made him reconsider any further remarks. With a smirk, he raised his hands in mock surrender and disappeared back into the crowd of partygoers.

Dave turned to you, his breath heavy, his eyes burning with something unreadable. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, though your hands trembled slightly. That man gave you the creeps even without Dave’s earlier warning. “I—yeah. I just…”

He exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I told you to stay away from him.”

You bristled. “I didn’t exactly seek him out, David.”

He sighed, tension rippling through his body. He reached out, hesitated as if remembering where you two were, then let his hand drop. “Just… stay close to the girls and away from everyone else, okay?”

“So, I’m just supposed to babysit and not speak to anyone?” How un-fucking-fair was that?

“Pretty much,” he replied without remorse.

You wanted to push back, to demand that he stop treating you like a fucking child, but your mom appeared before you could respond. Slipping her arm around Dave’s waist, kissing his cheek before turning to you with a sickly sweet smile. His dark eyes remained on you the whole time. “I hope you’re not causing trouble.”

Forcing a tight smile, you snapped, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” before striding away. Both of them could just fuck right off. You were so fucking sick of this party.

He tried to keep his eyes off you knowing what was at stake. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down with this crowd, so he tried. He really fucking tried. And completely failed.

You were breathtaking in that dress. The way it hugged your curves, showcasing the best parts of your body, made his heart thump heavily in his chest. You were his dream woman. How was he supposed to pretend you didn’t exist?

So, he chanced glances more often than he should have. He winked and smiled at you, knowing how hard it was to see him with his arm around your mom. He longed to be by your side instead of hers.

And that smug bastard Roger noticed the looks. Dave knew it was entirely his fault the man approached you. He practically lit a beacon drawing the man’s attention to you with each look. So much for being subtle.

You had Dave York twisted up inside and made him forget the most basic rules of subterfuge.

He intervened when he saw Roger speaking to you and kept an eye on you and the girls until you said goodnight and took them home. When he took a breather out on the patio after you said goodnight, Anna cornered him.

“Roger told me about your sweet little stepdaughter. Tell me, is she your plaything? Is that why you keep turning me down? I know it damn well isn’t your wife, so she must be the reason.”

Dave’s expression darkened. He dealt with enough of Anna’s over-the-top sex kitten act for the job, he didn’t have the patience for it tonight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Anna smirked, twirling the glass of champagne in her hand before taking a long, drawn-out sip. “Oh, relax. I’m just saying… you must enjoy having something to grab onto. She’s a little… thick in places. Sizeable ass.”

“Anna,” Dave snapped, his voice full of warning as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Anna merely chuckled. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, handsome. I’m just teasing.”

“Enough. Contact me when you have something business-related to talk about. Otherwise, leave me alone.” He had enough. Striding back into the house, he deposited his empty glass on a random table and left the party without saying goodbye to anyone, including Lisa. She was too busy paying court to a room full of admirers and he’d had enough of her shit tonight, too.

As Dave walked across the street and back to his home, his phone buzzed, and he hoped it was from you. When he pulled the phone from the inside pocket of his blazer, the message on the screen made his blood run cold.

Unknown Number: I know what you’re hiding.

tbc

Chapter Eight

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[spadecentral]

👨‍🍼 He’s Your Father | Diluc Ragnvindr & Reader

>> requested: no >> a/n: yes guys i am back to this prompt i know...

>> masterlist: genshin impact >> summary: your dad is diluc <3 >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): single dad diluc implied

dad!diluc who is terrified of becoming a dad

dad!diluc who doesn't know how to hold you right and is standoffish

dad!diluc who watches you like a hawk when kaeya comes to visit you

dad!diluc who sets up a little table for you in angel's share, and makes sure you don't hear any foul language

dad!diluc who becomes a little more violent at night, since he now has someone he truly cares about (you)

dad!diluc who is only 50% okay with jean and lisa teaching you things in the library, even though he acts like he's fine with it (everyone can tell)

dad!diluc who doesn't mind when you stand behind the bar right next to him while he's working

dad!diluc who makes sure you're comfortable staying home, and watches you play with adelinde in the gardens from his office while he works

dad!diluc who gets anxious when you make friends in mondstadt, especially if you hang out with klee regularly

dad!diluc who would rather you didn't start dating, but will begrudgingly let you

dad!diluc who doesn't want to let you go after he's watched you grow up

dad!diluc who promises he won't leave you, even if he's on the verge of dying

>> diluc taglist: @oseathepebble | @wisteriainslumber | @villaim | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax

@atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @oepionie| @l1vyatan

[midnight-mourning]

(Unexpected) Season's Greetings

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 7❄️❄️

guhhh it's HERE, this got long, it's now going to be ch. 1 of a multi chap fic, I'm going feral over this, pom what have you done-

ahem, anywho, so this is a little something of an au of Confused Spirit (an au of an au if you will) called Holiday Spirit!

Set in a holiday village instead of the plex, reader works as an animatronic technician/blacksmith and encounters a pair of guard bots that are in the village for sceurity purposes (guess who lmao) won't explain the whole plot as this story covers most of it but something to keep in mind is this; the characters here ARE CS characters, but the story is different than CS. As in, the characterizations are the same in how they act, but certain plot points differ as well as the origins for character motivations and such. That is to say, take anything here and in the story that follows with a grain of salt in regards to Confused Spirit. Okay? Okay. Enjoy!

Prompt: I have pondered the orb for a very-super specific scenario, and I THINK!! I have cooked one up that's hopefully fun to tackle... :3c A tree lighting ceremony in a historical town, decorated to the nines as a Holiday village! Its dark, its cold, the world is blanketed in snow-- but there's hot chocolate, a crowd, and beautiful light displays. (Atmosphere, ✓) The DCA is one of the robots/animatronics stationed to interact with guests/assist security. Part of whatever company is in charge of all the lighting/special effects etc that the Town hired. (DCA, ✓) Find a lost kid, or a lost kid stumbles upon them--get them to safety. I keep thinking about hot cocoa & melting peppermint sticks in, so maybe they get the kid a cup to warm up? :3 Whether the kid is the reader's kid, sibling, etc-- they find them, frazzled. (Reader, ✓) Tree lighting, together! Fireworks, together! Could interrupt their conversation, play it all out wherever whimsy takes you (This could be an AU of confused spirit -- AU within an AU, I enjoy the inception x3 Take whatcha want outta the word salad here, dont worry about adding it all in!!)

Word Count: 2846

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"I just don't know about this Abs." You say, huddling further into your coat as the wind blows by. 

Your friend nudges your shoulder. "What? Afraid of a little light show? Come on, it's the holidays! Or holiday time, anyway. What's the harm that can come from that?"

You shake your head, dodging past another bunch of people eagerly walking through the displays. "I'm just not a fan of so many capital people in town I guess..."

Your cozy little village was on the map for one reason and one reason only, the grand evergreen tree that sat in the middle of the square, assumed to be hundreds of years old, which was always decorated extravagantly for the holidays. Tonight was the lighting ceremony that would officially kick off the holiday season. 

You were, not exactly enthused about it, for the reasons you've already shared. People from everywhere came to gather in your village—which, mind you could hardly accommodate so many extra bodies—to watch the lighting ceremony and partake in the festivities. 

If you were younger and more carefree, you'd have enjoyed the commotion, you used to love people watching from the roof of your house, watching the fireworks display and cuddling up against the chill of the night air with—

You stop, the memory's gone, faded. Grown over with a bitterness and a grief you're more familiar with nowadays. Still, it does irk you that a memory from so long before the accident is so foggy. But, you let it pass you by like all the rest. It was better that way. 

The only reason you were out here now was for your siblings, and really just the older of the two. Gabe was just a baby, he wouldn't remember this. Lisa on the other hand would probably be upset if you didn't uphold the family tradition of watching the ceremony and visiting the night market and lights displays. 

"Oh, I think it's good for you to get out of that shop of yours every so often. Think the smoke fumes would get to your head otherwise." Abby slings her arm over your shoulder and flicks your forehead. 

You rub the spot, frowning. "Gee, thanks."

"I'm just saying, you gotta a live a little more." The slightly sad smile on her face doesn't miss your gaze. "If not for yourself then for them, yeah?"

You nod, sighing, and relent, offering a small smile in return. "Yeah, you're right."

"Speaking of, where's Lisa and Jack?"

You turn forward again. "They should be over by the—oh no."

Sure enough, neither your sister nor Abby's brother are where they should be. Immediately, you panic. You start looking around for the pair, calling their names as you weave through the crowd, which thickens as you move closer to the town square. When you arrive near the tree, still waiting on the lights to be finished prepping, and the king to show up, you and Abby decide to split to cover more ground. 

While she heads to the side of town towards the lake, you head in the direction of the remaining market you'd yet to explore. 

Meanwhile you try to keep calm. While Lisa had a penchant of running off—especially when around a certain friend of hers by the name of Gregory—you were particularly worried because of the amount of people. Not to mention, there was always the concern of something worse happening. 

Everybody was aware of the disappearances happening all across the capital. Whispers of children vanishing without a trace sent ripples throughout your quiet town, and with the king himself in your village, there were concerns that he'd bring with him whatever it was that was causing these missing cases, not unlike those that happened so many years before. 

But, thinking like that wouldn't find your sister, and so you have to bury those thoughts and focus. Think logically. If you were an eight year old girl with her friend who'd follow her anywhere, where would you go?

At that moment, you hear Gabe's stomach rumble and it clicks. Somewhere with food it is then. 

Along the way, you take note of the additional security that's present this year. Seems the threats that'd been directed towards the monarchy as of late weren't being taken lightly. It also didn't slip past your mind that the majority, if not all, this additional protection consisted of machines. 

Many looked exactly alike, large wide eyes and blank faces, though there was the occasional difference. For example, a bear and a rabbit animatronic stationed together, the bear standing tall and resolute, while the rabbit lounged casually beside him. If you remember correctly, you recall both a wolf and a gator roaming around the square with the tree, as well. 

You were half tempted to ask them if they'd seen your sister or Jack, but decided against it in the end. While you worked on animatronics and machines in general every day, you preferred not to talk with your clientele outside of work. It was better that way. Better to not mix business and pleasure. You'd learned that the hard way—

A rogue scream interrupts your train of thought. One that sounds far too familiar to not investigate. No one else seemed to hear above the chattering crowd, but when it happens again, coming from a nearby alleyway, you know it's Lisa. 

You force yourself through the crowd, stumbling into the alley, and head towards where you heard the sound. But by the time you get near the end, you see no sign of your sister. 

You sigh, defeated, and near the edge of tears. You run a hand through your hair, stressed. This is all your fault again, why can't you just do anything right—

There's a loud creak above you, followed by the sound of mechanical clicking. You look up in time for something to land on the ground in front of you, something else dropping down onto the railing of the fire escape just above that. 

The figure on the ground rises, slow, calculated, while the one on the railing stares down at you, red eyes narrowed and head tilted. 

They're wearing the same outfit as the other guards from before, red coats and blue pants, with gold and white detailing spread throughout. The one standing has shimmers of gold near the bottom edge of his coat, not unsimilar to the sky near dusk, from what you can see of the other's there's bits of purply-blue, reminiscent of twilight. 

You take brief note of the hats adorning them both, but it's their faces that catch you off guard. Not because they're animatronics like all the rest, either. 

Celestial bots, the two of them. The one perching has features of the moon, a bluish-white crescent for the right side of his face, and  deep blue for the other. His counterpart, the one standing in-front of you, has the features of the sun, with that same crescent combination, only yellow and a softer shade of blue, instead. 

None of you say anything for a moment. Simply watching, waiting. You glance briefly to the end of the alley, knowing you'd unlikely be able to make it should this turn sour. Though, you really hope not. 

"Can we help you, friend?" The sunny one asks, head clicking to the side, white eyes narrowing.

You're too surprised to speak for a moment. But you're not entirely sure as to why. Finally, you shake your head, coming out of your daze. "I, maybe. I'm, looking for someone. Well, someones. Two kids, boy and a girl. Have they come through here by any chance?"

"And we should tell you because...?" 

His tone catches you off guard, but you're hopeful. "I, the girl's my sister. She ran off with her friend, my friend's brother and we've been looking everywhere for them. Please, if you've seen them, I, I need to know."

You take note of the way the sun bot is examining his hands, paying special attention to the way he taps the gold, claw-tipped finger on his left hand. You swallow, you're not stupid, you know a threat when you see one. You want to instinctively reach back for Gabe, but resist.

After a moment, the yellow animatronic laughs. Looking back over to you. He takes a quick stride, looming over you suddenly. "Sounds like a bit too coincidental of a story, don't you think, friend?"

The one on the railing tsks. "Careful." 

The sun relents, stepping back with a grumble, smile faltering. 

Your shoulders relax for a moment, though only for a moment. 

The moon rests his chin in his hand. Red eyes narrowed cheekily. "But not too careful."

They turn to each other then, speaking in hushed tones. You strain to make out what they're saying. 

"—They do look similar, though only slightly. But what—"

"I think you're being paranoid. Not to mention a bit..."

"I believe cautious is the word you're searching for." A pause. "And I'm not..."

"It's not. But I certainly—what else could that twitch in your eye mean?"

Once the whispering becomes harsher and harder to discern is when you realize they're just bickering now. But before you can interrupt, a sneeze emits from the bundle strapped to your back, followed by the sound of giggling. 

Both bots cease their fighting and whip to face you. You see your opportunity. 

You turn around, pointing both thumbs down at your brother. "Look, she looks a lot more like him than me. If that's not enough I don't know what is."

Before you can face the two again, you find yourself being picked up by your shoulders and spun around. 

You understand what's happening when you hear the yellow bot speak, in a much lighter tone than before. "Well hello there little friend! Aren't you just the cutest little bundle of joy I've ever seen? Are you warm enough? Should I get you another hat, another scarf maybe?"

You continue to be spun around, Gabe giggling and squealing with delight. Finally you have to say something as your world grows dizzy. 

"Hey! I'm also here you know!"

As if on cue, you're set down again. Nearly stumbling before a hand rests on your shoulder. 

Glancing up, you see the sun animatronic cough into his gloved hand. "Well then, I suppose that will do." He turns and nods to his partner. "Go get them."

"A please would be nice."

He tilts his head, grin as wide as ever. "It would, wouldn't it?"

A moment's pause, the moon's eyes narrowing. Then, with a snicker, he rises, balancing on the railing before leaping up, disappearing over the edge of the roof. Leaving you alone. 

It takes you a moment to notice his counterpart is back to fawning over your brother. Cooing at him while Gabe delights in the attention. 

"And what's your name, little friend?" He asks.

You answer. "Gabriel. And yours?"

Quiet for a moment. A long moment. Then—

"Take a guess."

You tsk, but figured as much. "Not going to ask mine then?"

"No need. I've heard all about you already."

You twist slightly. "What's that supposed to—"

You're stopped by the sound of that same shriek from earlier, but now you realize that it wasn't one of fear, but of pure unhindered joy. 

The moon bot—or Moon, you suppose—lands on the ground not far from you. In his arms is your sister and Jack. 

"Lisa! Jack! Thank god." You rush over to them both, scooping them up in your own arms once they've been set down. "What in the world were you two thinking running off like that?"

You release them again, and they both mutter apologies. 

Your sister kicks her foot against the ground. "We just wanted to get a better look at the tree..."

"But then we got lost." Jack continues. 

You sigh, ruffling the hair on both their heads. "Next time, wait for me and Abby, yeah? If you wanted to get a closer look we could've walked faster."

"Sorry..." Lisa shakes her head, "But it's okay! Mr. Sun, and Mr. Moon took good care of us in the meantime!"

"Yeah! We got hot chocolate, and Mr. Moon took us for a ride!"

You smile. "Well if that's the case, what do we say then?"

Both kids turn to the bots. "Thank you!"

"Of course!"

"Our pleasure."

You stand up again, nodding once. "We better get going, or we're going to miss the ceremony." You glance between the two animatronics. "Thank you both again. I, don't know what I would've done if you hadn't found them." You lower your voice to speak more to yourself. "Probably sock someone... to be honest."

You start to usher the kids out of the alley, but don't miss the gaze exchanged between the guards. Just as you've turned around, you're startled to find Sun has slipped his arm to intertwine with yours. 

"We'll accompany you back to the square. It's the least we can do after such a scare!" He nods to the kids, already starting to get ahead again. "Moon will watch the children. Won't you?"

There's a sound, similar to grinding gears, behind you. Then a chuckle. "Of course."

He walks ahead, and plucks the two off the ground, raising them to ride on his shoulders. 

"Oh, I couldn't ask that of you—"

Sun's claw-tipped finger taps against your arm, head tilting as he looks down to you. "I insist." Then, cheery again. "We'd really be more than happy to!"

"I, okay."

The three of you make your way back to the square, Moon slightly ahead of you with the kids. 

"So, friend, are you excited?"

You chuckle. "For what part?"

"Any of it, I suppose. It's quite the spectacle!" Sun says, looking around. 

You can't deny it, it is lovely tonight. The chattering villagers and capital citizens, everyone in nothing but high spirits. The warm lights of the street lamps and string bulbs put up especially for the event. Children run and play amongst the crowed, going stall to stall. A small bit of snow falls from the sky, not quite coating or adding to the current piles that litter the streets. 

Your smile is small, soft. "Yeah. It is. Can I be honest with you though?"

Sun nods. 

"I just, I guess it just, hasn't done much for me in quite a few years." You shake your head. "Used to, don't get me wrong. Used to love all of it. But now it's just, well, I'm here for them more than me, you know?"

You notice that you've made it just in time for the tree lighting. The king's already begun his spiel. You wouldn't be paying attention anyway. Hell, you don't even think his kids are. 

Additionally, Abby must've spotted you, rushing over to where Moon stands with your siblings, looking relieved. 

"Is there any particular reason for that?" His face snaps down to yours. "Do you think?"

The tone shift catches you off guard. "I, um—" You pause, noticing something. Particularly, Sun's rays. They're patterned in a way you wouldn't expect for a guard animatronic. And the baubles at the points of each remind you of bells. Kind of like—"Were you always programmed to be guard bot?"

The tables turn. His eyes widen, wide grin faltering. Instinctively, your hand reaches up to inspect further. "These remind me of something."

"I—"

Suddenly, the crowd erupts into a cheer. Immediately the two of you break apart, and you turn just in time to watch the tree burst with lights. Starting from the bottom and rapidly climbing the tree in a spiral that ends with a flash of light from the star at the top. Seconds after, fireworks start to burst in the sky. 

Despite the lack of joy the festival has given you the past several years, in that moment you can't help the smile that slips across your face. 

A soft chuckle from beside you. "Pretty as ever, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is."

A hand rests on your shoulder. Glancing up you see it's Moon. "Lovely meeting you, Star. But we should get back to our posts. Right, Sun?"

A pause. Then. "Of course! Our job here is done." Sun releases your arm, turning to face you. "Until next time, friend." 

Sun bows, and Moon does the same, but takes your hand, pressing the back of it to his face plate. It makes you laugh, the edges of your ears burning, and not just from the cold. 

Before you can say anything more, Sun takes Moon by his padded shoulders and marches him back in the direction they came. 

You don't get to think on the encounter further, as your preoccupied once more with wrangling your sister and—trying—to enjoy the evening with your friend. Though, given this was only the beginning of the month's celebrations, you expected you'd be seeing them again potentially. 

And if they had anything to say about it, you would.

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Thank you @divinit3a for this request, I am gripping you by the shoulders and spinning you around like sun did to reader bc GRAHHHH THIS WAS GENIUS-i did a little bit of a spin from the original idea but I think it turned out alright >_<

Anywho, expect to see more of these three when i catch up on requests and spend some time on my Secret Santa :) Additionally, you can find the outfit designs for these guys over in Pom's post here. I suggest you check it out, had me SWOONING I'll probably make a post for this au in more detail sometime in the next few days but that's all for now, thanks for reading!

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[shiorimakibawrites]

Day 2 - Forget-Me-Nots

Prompt: 2 - Flower Crowns Character: Frank Castle Pairings: Frank Castle x Reader Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland Warnings: Fluff, original child character, reference canon character death, grief Tuna-Tober Masterlist 2024

Forget-Me-Nots

There was something so adorable about your daughter Sophia making flower crowns. She was so serious about it. Asking for very specific flowers. Brows furrowed, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she painstakingly assembled each crown. No mistaking who her father was. Frank got the same look on his face when he did maintenance on his guns.

But your little one was enjoying herself. That proud, little smile when she finished one said it all. Along with the big, ear-to-ear one when she presented each crown to its intended recipient. So far, everyone had accepted theirs and donned them immediately.

Including Frank. He immediately knelt down so his daughter could place the crown on his head. It should have looked absurd. Big Marine with a delicate flower crown on his head with thin blue ribbons trailing down his back. But it didn’t. It looked sweet.

The ribbon matched the tiny flowers. You wondered if Frank recognized them. Forget-me-nots, symbolizing true love, memories, and remembrance. It was rather apt but it was unlikely Sophia knew just how apt. She probably just thought that flowers would look pretty on her daddy.

Which they did. The sky-blue color was a pleasing contrast against his dark hair.

You’d bet a similar logic governed the hibiscus gracing your crown. That she just thought the colorful flowers were pretty. And familiar since you grow them in the garden. But even though it was just coincidence, it’s meaning of being consumed by love was so true. You had never felt so much love as you did now, in your little home with your husband and your daughter.

There was no mystery behind Sophia’s choice of sweet-peas for her own crown. Frank had been calling her sweet-pea since the day she was born.

On the other hand, Sophia had made other apt choices for flowers. Irises for Karen (your friendship means so much to me), sunflowers for Foggy (constancy and devotion), and chrysanthums for Curtis (you are a wonderful friend). Just to name a few.

The love and devotion of lavender for Matt was rather apt but Sophia seemed to have picked it for its sleep-aid properties. Given that she solemnly told him that he needed more naps when she placed the crown on his head. It had taken all of your willpower not to laugh. You were not alone in that regard.

The pale purple flowers seemed to be working their magic. Your boss was practically dozing on your couch, his head pillowed against Karen’s shoulder. Which was rather amazing considering that was Sophia and her friends had set up shop just feet away in the kitchen. And they weren’t being quiet.

Speaking of Sophia, she was tugging at Frank’s hand, “Daddy, daddy, I need your help!”

“Sure, sweet-pea,” he said, allowing himself to be tugged toward the crown making. You followed the pair, curious. Sophia had been very adamant about making her crowns herself, that she was a big girl.

On the table in front of her chair, you could see the beginnings of another flower crown. This one also featured forget-me-nots.

“What do you need, sweet pea?”

“Lisa’s favorite flower!”

You felt your breathe catch. There wasn’t anyone at this party with that name. There was only one Lisa she could be talking about.

“Lisa’s favorite flower?” Frank repeated. His voice was surprisingly even. Provided that you didn’t know him. You, however, could hear the brittleness. Frank might sound calm but he wasn’t feeling calm. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Curtis drift closer.

“Yes, for her crown.”

Frank took a deep breath. “Baby, Lisa’s in Heaven. She can’t wear a flower crown.”

This time he couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. You put your arm around your husband’s waist, silently offering your support. His body felt like stone under your hands. But he put his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

“I know,” Sophia said. She looked up at you both with those big brown eyes. Frank’s eyes. Her expression was unusually somber. “But she was my sister. She deserves a crown too.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “You’re right, sweet-pea. Lisa deserves her crown.”

He looked over the collection of flowers. His hands shook a little when he gathered up the yellow roses, handing them over to Sophia. Who took them with a little smile for her father. Silently she became to weave the roses amongst the forget-me-nots. The same flowers she had gifted Frank.

You weren’t surprised when Frank excused himself, claiming that he had to use the bathroom. Nor that his eyes were red when he returned. But he smiled when Sophia showed him Lisa’s crown. “It’s beautiful, sweet-pea. Lisa would have loved it.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Yellow roses mean friendship and remember me.

[copperboom82]

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Katrina), mentions of Dean/Lisa

Word Count: 4,035

Title Credit: Nothing Else Matters by Metallica

Summary: Dean's forced to confront his fear of flying to help a friend, but this time Katrina might be able to help... and maybe along the way her and Dean might find a way to stop their nonstop bickering.

Set in season 6, during Weekend at Bobby's, and part of the Long Winding Roads collection (masterlist here), but can be read on its own.

A/N: This is my sixth submission for @jacklesversebingo using the prompt There's only one thing in the world they're afraid of. It is also a submission for @alphabetquest using the nicknames prompt!

Thank you @justwhisperingfantasies for being my beta and for all your support! ❤️

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of alcohol. Prescription medication. Implied Soulless Sam. Vague mentions of past trauma... if I missed any, please let me know

**********************

“Okay, what is wrong with your brother?”

At the question, Sam followed Katrina’s gaze from where they stood in line for food to where Dean was still sitting in the terminal. There was little over an hour to go before boarding, but Dean looked like he was going to be sick, and he hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they’d gotten to the damn airport. Katrina may not have known the older Winchester particularly well, but even she could notice how uncharacteristically anxious and… on edge… he seemed to be.

“Oh,” Sam chuckled. “Dean’s terrified of flying. Only thing in the world he’s afraid of… if you ask him, anyway.”

“Really?” Katrina couldn’t help but ask, her eyes widening in surprise. Sam smirked but nodded. He had one of those weird expressions on his face again… almost like he was amused but somehow… disconnected.

“Oh yeah,” he told her. “Few years back we had to work a case where we had this demon taking down planes. You should have seen him, I don’t think he’s ever been so flipped out.”

Katrina frowned, but before they could continue talking, Sam got called up to the counter and she was left to stand on her own.

It was a little funny, Dean being so freaked out. And there was part of her that felt like Mr. Cocky-Pain-in-Her-Ass had it coming - Dean had been insufferable since he’d shown back up, and really from that first time he’d come round Bobby’s with his girlfriend and the kid.

But it was almost a 10 hour flight to Scotland. And there was no mistaking the genuine terror in his eyes, or the way he was wound so tightly he looked like he was ready to snap. That he was willing to put himself through what was clearly some version of self-inflicted torture for Bobby tugged at heartstrings Katrina liked to pretend she didn’t have.

With a sigh, she ducked out of line and rerouted to the duty free store a few yards down from where they’d camped out.

A few minutes later, Katrina wordlessly dropped into the seat next to Dean. Sam was no where to be seen, but she wasn’t about to complain. In fact, the fewer witnesses to see that she actually had a heart, the better as far as she was concerned.

Dean ignored her at first, but when she tossed one of the little vodka bottles in his direction, he turned to her in surprise, even as he caught it in his hand. When she followed up by tossing him a prescription bottle, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Pick your poison,” she said, already digging in her bag for her earbuds. “I don’t recommend both, but to each his own.”

Katrina tried not to let her heart beat too fast at the thought of what she was potentially revealing about herself with the offering. She couldn’t afford brand name anyway, so it wasn’t like she expected him to immediately place what the pills were. Even if he did, Xanax was a pretty common medication.

And it wasn’t like she was actually taking them. She was fine. Everything was fine.

“Wha -“

“We’ve got at least 10 hours ahead of us. You shouldn’t have to white knuckle it the whole time, that’s ridiculous. Even if you are a jackass.”

“Gee, how sweet,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can really feel the love.” Katrina fought the urge to flip him off. From the corner of her eye she noticed Dean bringing the pill bottle closer to his face, his eyes scrunching as he scrutinized it.

“Katrina Black, DOB 4/22/84, take 1 tablet orally four times a day… Jesus, Kat, they’ve got you on 8mg of this stuff a day? The hell are you doing hunting?”

Of fucking course, she thought. And that fucking nickname again, to boot.

Katrina glared and reached back for the pill bottle but Dean quickly pulled it out of reach, holding it up and to his other side while pushing her back.

“If you’re gonna give me shit, you can give them back,” she snapped.

“I wasn’t giving you shit,” he complained. “Just surprised. Besides, it’s a valid concern, considering Sam and I seem to keep getting stuck working with you, which mean’s you’re supposed to have our backs.”

“Hey, no one’s making you hang around. Or Sam for that matter. I could have handled this one just fine on my own.”

He started to puff up the way he usually did when they got into their verbal sparring matches, but before any words actually came out he seemed to deflate, running a hand down his mouth - a habit she’d begun noticing of his when he was frustrated or trying to pull his thoughts together - before looking at her with an expression she hadn’t seen before.

“You’re right,” he finally said, though it looked like it pained him to get the words out. “I’m sorry.”

Katrina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Dean gave her a look, dropping the hand holding the prescription bottle back into his lap now that he seemed to deem the danger of her trying to take it back had passed.

“Don’t be a smartass, Black. I said I’m sorry.”

“My bad,” Katrina quipped, “I didn’t know you knew how.”

She clocked the way he started to narrow his eyes. But when he noticed the smirk on her own face and eased up, she let out a silent breath of relief. It was only another second before even Dean let out half a laugh and shook his head.

“Y’know, you’re a real pain in the ass, sometimes.”

Katrina shrugged and went digging in her bag again. “Yeah,” she agreed over her shoulder, “but ‘s not like you or brother are exactly a walk in the park either, so maybe glass houses and all that.”

“Touché,” he agreed. And then after a moment, much quieter, he followed up with a thanks.

The genuine tone of his voice was what caught her attention, and Katrina looked over to find him watching her, a soft, almost pensive expression on his face. It struck her the way the sunlight filtering in through the big, glass windows fell across him in that moment, illuminating the natural highlights and low lights in his short brown hair and giving extra life to his already vibrant green eyes. The jacket he was wearing over his usual flannel attire stretched across his shoulders, and even she wasn’t blind to his chiseled features.

She’d have thought he was attractive, if he weren’t such an asshole. Katrina could see what other women saw in him, though… what Lisa probably saw in him. Even in the limited amount of time the three of them had been by Bobby’s, it’d been impossible not to miss the way he fit there, how good he was with the kid… Ben, she thought his name might have been.

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” she dismissed. Dean nodded and looked towards his hands - one holding the pill bottle and the other still hanging onto the vodka. He looked unsure, hesitant, and Katrina rolled her eyes. The tension was already back in his shoulders, and his knee was bouncing in a very un-Dean Winchester like way. “You should probably take one of the pills, but do something, dude. You look like you’re about about five seconds from a meltdown.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, trying to hand her back both bottles, which Katrina resolutely ignored.

“You are not fine, Winchester*.* You’re not even in the neighborhood of fine.”

The narrowed eyes came back. This time, though, she recognized the uneasiness in his expression, saw the same self-consciousness she’d been feeling just moments before reflected back at her. “Yes, I am. Just had too much caffeine trying to stay awake on the drive here, that’s all.”

Fucking asshole, she mentally cursed. Leave it to Dean Winchester to accidentally find a way to tap into the sympathetic part of her brain.

“Sam already ratted you out, said you’re terrified of flying,” she informed him. He became visibly uncomfortable but she hurried on. “It’s not a big deal, really. We’ve all got our… things.”

Dean seemed to study her for a moment, almost as if he were looking for her to go in for the kill at any second, and when she didn’t, he pulled a face and turned the pill bottle over in his hand again.

“Yeah? Is that what these are?”

Katrina snorted, though it was the humorless type, and shook her head.

“No. Those are… I’m not taking those anymore. But those were something else.”

Those were the doctor’s answer to the thin line she’d been walking after last year. Their brilliant solution to keep her from totally spiraling out. As if some pills would have magically changed what had happened with her mom, or the mess she’d been left to cleanup in the aftermath.

Dean seemed to sense there was a story, but to his credit didn’t push. Instead he nodded and turned the bottle over in his hand again, discreetly observing it from the corner of his eye. She could tell his pride was warring with his desire for some relief, but she decided not to pick at it… yet.

“So then what’s your thing, Miss. Black? Since apparently we’re caring and sharing.”

Katrina sighed, fiddling with her nail as she glanced down towards her lap, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Heights,” she mumbled, but when Dean raised an eyebrow, indicating he hadn’t been able to understand her, she huffed again, forcing herself to raise her voice. “Heights. I’m afraid of heights.”

She had fully expected him to laugh and give her some kind of crap for it, despite the fact that she’d been trying to make him feel better. Maybe that said as much about her as it did about him, she wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. Dean surprised her, though, by doing neither of those things, and only nodding instead. Katrina thought he might have even let himself settle just a bit further into his seat, as if something about her confession had eased something just enough that he didn’t feel the need to hold himself quite so straight.

“Alright,” he said. And without another word, he uncapped the pill bottle and dropped one of the tablets into the palm of his hand. She was about to offer him water when he tossed it into his mouth and swallowed dry, recapping the bottle as he did, and then handing it back. The vodka, she noticed, stayed where he’d dropped it into his lap.

“Just like that?” she questioned, and he nodded again.

“Yeah, just like that. Your loss if you were trying to poison me or something, though, because if something happens to me you’re stuck with gigantor over there.”

Katrina’s eyes traveled in the direction he’d tilted his head and saw that Sam had reappeared but was chatting up a woman a few banks of seats away from where they’d camped out. She looked back at Dean skeptically and he shrugged. After all, she was pretty sure it had been her less-than-warm opinion of his brother that had started them off on such a sour note.

“Yeah, well, at least I’m used to working with him. You’re still an unproven entity,” she joked, dropping the pill bottle back into her bag. Dean scoffed at that, both of them knowing full well that even if they hadn’t been getting along, they’d both proven more than capable since Dean had taken up hunting again.

They were quiet for a moment, and Katrina was about to finally pull her earbuds on when Dean opened his mouth, a contemplative and an unusually serious expression on his face.

“This past year, while he’s been… back… how often did you two work together?”

There was something about the way he asked the question that told Katrina there was more to it than what it seemed at face value. She dropped the headphones back to her lap and frowned, thinking.

“Often enough…” she answered carefully. “I was starting to hunt more than I had been, and Bobby wasn’t a fan of me working jobs by myself. So when Sam showed up and insisted on leaving you out of things, Bobby seemed to think it was a good opportunity to push us to partner up.”

“And the Campbells?” Dean asked after mulling what she’d said. Her mouth twitched into a frown of its own accord. He caught it immediately, the curiosity on his own face deepening, and Katrina shook her head.

“They’re fine, just… I don’t know, I get a vibe, but I don’t have anything backing me up. Anyway, they just kinda showed up one day. Sam, I guess, had worked a few jobs without me? And then when we hooked back up they were just part of the deal - not all the time but a lot of the time.”

“You get a vibe?” Dean’s voice was incredulous, but Katrina shrugged.

“Yeah, I don’t know, man. They're just… Samuel’s a little too unbothered with the whole don’t-know-how-I’m-alive-again thing - your brother too, but whatever. And then they’re all just… close? And, look, I get it - hunters aren’t exactly the most trusting or welcoming bunch. But there’s something going on there. Whenever I’m around I get the sense they just want me out of the way - even more than you do, which is saying a lot.”

Something flashed on Dean’s face - guilt, she’d say, if she didn’t know any better - but it was gone before she could really give it much thought.

“I don’t - I never… that’s not -“ he stuttered but when Katrina raised an eyebrow, Dean sighed. “Saying I want you out of the way ‘s a little harsh,” he finished weakly. Katrina snorted.

“Oh yeah? What are we, best buddies then, Winchester? You wanna make friendship bracelets and braid my hair?”

He rolled his eyes at her sarcasm, but it broke him out of the weirdly awkward demeanor he’d been settling into and it drew out a short laugh, even if he did try to suppress it.

“Let’s not go that far… but maybe you don’t totally suck.”

“High praise,” she quipped, and Dean actually laughed, a rare smile breaking across his face. “I mean, really - sweet talker like that, Lisa’s a lucky woman.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, okay?” he admitted, mirth still coloring his voice, though she could still tell he was being genuine. “I didn’t mean to be -“

“Such a dick?” she supplied helpfully. Dean went to defend himself but immediately deflated.

“Yeah.”

Katrina smirked. “It’s fine.” Then settling back down, she added on a more serious note, “I’m sorry too. I probably could have started things off on a better foot.”

It was an understatement, not that she’d ever admit that, but Dean seemed to read it for what it was anyway and chuckled.

“Just maybe.”

They were quiet for a moment, though it was a little more comfortable now, and after a bit Katrina noticed that contemplative look sliding back onto Dean’s face. She followed his eyes back to Sam and waited, sensing there was still more on his mind. Sure enough, not more than thirty seconds later, Dean was opening his mouth again.

“So why did you say he’s a dick?” Registering the surprise on her face, Dean continued on. “I mean, you two seem to get along okay. You’ve been working together. What was the deal?”

There was more to that question too, and Katrina was done humoring him.

“Why do you wanna know?”

After all, Dean hadn’t brought it up since that initial argument they’d had in Bobby’s kitchen. In fact, they’d pretty much avoided any and all conversation about Sam since.

Dean’s gaze returned to her, and she could see him mentally weighing his desire to keep his cards close to his chest against her proven stubbornness. She didn’t flinch and eventually the debate seemed to play out in her favor.

“He’s, uh… something’s different about him, since he’s been back,” he admitted, lowering his voice. Katrina looked back, unimpressed at the lackluster answer.

“Well, he did go to Hell. Which is something I hear you have some experience with. You telling me that didn’t change you at all?”

“Smart ass,” he grumbled. Katrina only smiled back, waiting for Dean to gather his thoughts and continue. “Yeah, I do. But, this is… not that. I can’t put my finger on it, but he ain’t right. And I’m worried.”

It would have been easy to keep teasing him, and part of Katrina felt like he deserved it for how he’d been the last few weeks… but she sensed this opening up he was doing wasn’t a normal thing for him. And that was something she could relate to. Painfully so.

“Look, I didn’t know him before,” Katrina admitted, “but you can pick my brain on whatever you want. He’s definitely not the Sam I had in my head from what I’d heard from Bobby. I don’t know if that helps or not, but…” she trailed off, but Dean seemed appreciative anyway.

“You got any more for me as to why? Besides you thinking he’s kind of a dick, I mean.”

Katrina smirked, but took a moment to reflect on the past year. It was a gut feeling more than anything, but if she tried, she could articulate it a bit.

“He’s just… I mean, all I heard was how he’s this great hunter, and he’s got this heart of gold, and how you guys grew up doing this, right? And, I don’t know, I gotta tell you… dude’s got no instinct. I mean, there’s sometimes where he’s scary perceptive, like when we’re interviewing someone or dealing with the local badges, but a lot of the time? Especially when it’s not case related? I’ve seen him start to make some real miscalculations reading people. And then that heart of gold I heard so much about? I don’t think I’ve met anyone colder, and I work in emergency services. He’s… he’s tried to make some seriously fucked up calls too, and… it doesn’t exactly leave me with a warm, fuzzy feeling thinking about what he might do when he’s working solo. And, look, it’s not like I don’t have my issues, so I’m the last person to judge here, but dude, the women. He’s got no bounds.”

Even though he’d asked to hear, Katrina had anticipated some type of pushback… maybe even a defensive sort of reaction - it wouldn’t have been the first time. But Dean listened, his frown deepening and eyes drifting back to Sam as she spoke. Until finally he turned back to her, skepticism and concern fighting for dominance on his face.

“What kind of seriously fucked up calls are we talking about here?” His voice had grown hard, serious, and Katrina shifted uncomfortably.

“You sure you really want me to answer that?” In the seconds that followed her question, it felt like they were in an unofficial staring contest until Dean exhaled and ran a hand down his mouth.

“I’m sure I really don’t, but I’m just as sure I need you to.”

It was as honest an answer he could have given, and Katrina felt a pang of sympathy.

“Using innocent people as bait, for one,” she said quietly, uneasy despite the truth of what she was saying. “Letting them get hurt or worse when it’s been inconvenient to stop it. I can tell you we’ve been working together for over a year now, and I’ve got zero confidence the guy has my back. I don’t think he’d do anything to intentionally screw me, but I don’t think he’d go out of his way to help me either. Not unless it was a benefit to him. It’s just… like I said, I didn’t know him before… but I don’t see the guy you and Bobby talk about.”

Dean seemed lost in thought, but he nodded. Then when she caught his eye he looked almost surprised, but snapped out of it fast, a practiced poker-face taking over his features. He shifted in his seat, trying to look casual, but she noticed that some of the tension had returned to his body… a different kind than before that she suspected had a lot more to do with an unease that went deeper than his fear of flying.

“Well,” he said lowly, “’least I know it’s not just me I guess. Thanks, for telling me, Kat. I appreciate it.” Katrina thought it was the end of the conversation, but then he winced, shooting her an apologetic look. It was an expression Katrina had yet to see, at least not pointed in her direction, and she froze, her interest piqued.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know you don’t, I didn’t mean to… Thanks, Trina.”

Literally everyone called her Trina. Or even Treen. Katrina on rare occasions. But ninety-nine percent of the time? Trina.

She hated that he called her Kat. It was the entire reason he’d started using the name - to piss her off when he realized it got under her skin.

But sitting there now, him looking at her with that earnest expression on his face, she cringed at the use of her actual name. It felt fundamentally wrong coming out of Dean’s mouth for reasons she couldn’t explain. Dean, of course, seemed to notice this, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in amusement.

“Did you just call me Trina?” she asked, and Dean snorted.

“Yeah. Thought that’s what I was supposed to call you.”

They shared a look, but then Katrina scrunched her nose, and in an extremely rare moment of synchronicity, they both chuckled.

“No,” she corrected him, “it’s weird.” Dean laughed again.

“Yeah, felt pretty weird saying it,” he admitted. There was a beat of silence, only slightly awkward. She recognized what the olive branch had been, him trying to call her by her preferred name, and hoped he didn’t think she’d been trying to reject that. Luckily, seconds later, he flashed her a seemingly warm smile as he settled back into his seat. “So, Kat?” he asked, “or is there something else we should be trying here?”

She still hated the name Kat, but there was something about the way he said it that made her shake her head, forgoing the opportunity to get rid of it forever.

“Kat’s fine,” she agreed. “Wouldn’t wanna change things up on you too much now, would we?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but the fond smile he was still wearing gave away the fact that he wasn’t actually annoyed. Katrina reached for the earbuds again. This time, she got one halfway to her ear when Dean gave the iPod they were attached to a pointed look, making her pause.

“What’re you listening to?” he asked, and she realized he must have noticed her listening to it earlier in the car. Katrina felt her cheeks flush, wondering if she were about to get the same rash of shit she usually did - especially from Jenna - for her taste in music.

“Metallica,” she admitted. “Got a playlist I’ll probably switch to after that’s a mix of stuff, but I’m about halfway through the album.” When his eyes lit up in interest she hesitated, then held out one of the strings. “You wanna listen?” she offered tentatively.

The surprise was clear on Dean’s face, but he covered it up fast enough, reaching out a hand for the offered bud. He seemed to recognize the gesture for what it was, as her own attempt to bridge the gap between them.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Katrina hummed and dropped the earbud into his palm, a slight shock flashing across her skin when their fingers brushed.

Neither commented on it, instead just settling back into their seats as she reached down to the device and hit play. And maybe it wasn’t the grandest gesture, but Katrina thought to herself that maybe Dean Winchester wasn’t such a total asshole after all.

Maybe.

**********************

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added): @mrsjenniferwinchester @0ccvltism

[morgana-larkin]

Haii okay here’s my angst request! I love a good regretful jealous Mel hehehe. I was thinking you’re both teachers and she likes u but is like “I’m too cool for pining” so she does the extreme opposite and is kinda standoff-ish or blunt w u at school. When you’re alone she’s a little better but still not super lovey dovey. You “take the hint” and move on, and someone new comes into ur life (can you PLEASE for the LOVE OF GOD name this rando new person joy??). And then one day Mel’s like “let’s be official” And you’re like what? Why? I thought u didn’t like me also I have Joy now. And then Mel’s like wtf and she gets rlly jealous when she sees u w her now and then she tries to sabotage y’all’s blooming relationship. In the end maybe no happy ending pls?? If ur comfortable writing that :)

Hehe I LOVE a good heartbreak. Also I’m obsessed w joy Huerta (hence my username) and have been asking everyone to use it in fics AND PPL DONT ALFJKS. lmao anyways. I hope this is sumn ur comfortable writing!

OMG! you’re really testing me here! If I’m honest, it was hard to write. I rewrote it a few times, it hurt a little, might make a part 2. Honestly if even one person requests a part 2 with a happy ending then I will write one. As always, not edited in the slightest, I hope you like it!

On another note: keep sending prompts for one shots! I decided to write one shots about Chessy from parent trap played by our favourite redhead, Lisa Ann Walter, so you can send prompts for her too!

Part 2

Green Isn’t Your Colour

Warnings: (where do I start lol) Jealous Mel, upset Mel, a bit of toxic Mel, angst and no comfort, no happy ending , good luck lol

Words: 3.2k

You walk in through the entrance of Abbott Elementary. You’ve been here for a year already and you’re finally feeling like you’re settling in. You’re a third grade teacher, you helped Melissa out as she wouldn’t have another split class again and that made her happy from the day you got there and hearing the news.

You walk into the break room, hot chocolate in hand, you don’t like coffee that much, but nothing could beat a good hot chocolate. You go and sit on an empty table, taking some tests out and start marking them. Melissa looks over at you from her table. She looks at the way you’re flawlessly marking, glasses on and concentrating on what you’re doing.

You glance up as you feel like you’re being watched and see Melissa looking at you, but then she quickly looks away when you notice and you smile. You liked her since you first set eyes on her and it only grew from there. But lately it seems like she’s off and you’re unsure why. She was nice to you when you started but now it’s like she’s the opposite and you don’t know why. You asked everyone else if they could answer why she’s different but no one noticed the change.

You got up and picked up the tests and decided to just carry them to your classroom. You passed by Melissa on the way out. “See you later Melissa.” You told her with a smile. She just nodded her head at you and went back to her phone. You looked at Barb and she just shrugged, not noticing a difference.

During your second period prep you finished marking the tests with a breath of relief. Just then Melissa knocks on your door and you look at her and smile. “Hey Melissa.” You tell her and she just has a neutral face and you drop your smile.

“I found the book you were asking for. The little eagles liked it last year and I’m sure they’ll like it again.” She said and handed you the book.

“Oh perfect, thank you.” You told her and smiled at the book. Melissa looked at you and couldn’t help the small smile forming at your excitement of the book. And you looked up at her to see the small smile on her face. “Hey Melissa, can I ask you something?” You asked and she looked at you confused.

“You can but it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” Melissa said.

“Um ok. Well I was just wondering why you’re acting differently around me?” You ask and she looks at you with a neutral face again.

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“Well you were nice to me last year but now you’re acting distant and I don’t know why.” You asked her. “Did I do something wrong?” You added and that took her by surprise. She doesn’t want you to think you did anything wrong because you didn’t. Melissa has a crush on you and she doesn’t want to show it or let anyone know, and her acting nicely to you last year definitely raised suspicions, so she went back to how she acts with everyone else.

“You didn’t do anything kid. This is just how I am with people.” She said.

“You’re not like that with Barb.” You said.

“Barb is my best friend, so of course I’m nice to her.”

“What about Janine? Jacob? Gregory? Or when Ava at times? You’re nice to them.” You told her, getting a little frustrated.

“That’s because they’re my friends.” She said and you were taken back by that and it definitely stung. Melissa looks at your expression and knew she shouldn’t have said that. She does think of you as a friend but it just slipped out.

“Oh ok, well glad to know where we stand then, just co workers. Thank you for the book Ms. Schemmenti, I’ll return it tomorrow.” You tell her and go back to your desk. “If that was all then if you don’t mind, I have a lesson plan to do.” You told her and she nodded her head.

“See ya around kid.” She said and left. She knew she fucked up there. She’ll have to start being a bit nicer to you to get back in your good graces.

Back in your classroom you took a big breath. You thought you and Melissa were friends but I guess you were wrong. No wonder she’s always short and blunt with you.

The next day you were at the coffee shop, receiving your hot chocolate like always, turning around to leave and bumped into someone, spilling your hot chocolate all over them and a bit on yourself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I just wanted to talk to you and didn’t expect you to turn around.” The person said.

“Oh well I feel like I should be apologising, my hot chocolate mostly went on you. Wait, you wanted to talk to me? Why?”

“Because I see you in here everyday and I think you’re pretty.” She said with a blush and you blushed at her compliment.

“Oh uh th-thank you.” You stuttered a bit, not used to compliments.

“Can I buy you another hot chocolate? As an apology?” She said and you looked at her.

“Oh you don’t have too.”

“I want to though. Please, I insist.” She said and you smiled at her. She bought you another hot chocolate and handed it to you with a smile. “And there we go.” She said.

“Thank you.” You told her and saw the time. “Oh I gotta get to work.” You told her.

“Oh that’s alright I understand. I’ll see you again tomorrow?” She asked.

“Ya, I come here, same time every day.” You said with a smile and began to leave but turned around to her. “I never got your name btw.”

“It’s Joy.” She told you.

“I’m y/n.” You tell her and she smiles.

“You have a lovely name, it suits you.” She tells you. You blush and leave the coffee shop. You get to the school and immediately go to your classroom instead of the break room. You put your stuff done and see the book that Melissa gave you yesterday sitting on your desk. You might as well return it now, you got a few minutes before the students get here. You picked up the book and walked to the classroom next to yours and knocked on the open door. Melissa was stapling something and looked up at you and gave you a little smile.

Your heart fluttered a little at the smile and you remembered what she said yesterday. “Hi Ms Schemmenti, I came to return the book.” You told her, and held the book up.

She looked at you and remembered what happened yesterday and sighed. “Thanks y/n” she said and got up and walked over to you to take the book. “Did the little eagles like it?” She asked.

“Ya they did.” You said confused at her using your actual name

“I knew they would. You can borrow it whenever you want.” She told you and you offered her a small smile and nodded your head.

“Thanks Ms Schemmenti, I’ll keep that in mind.” You told her and left. She stared at you as you walked back to your own classroom and did a huge sigh and leaned back against her door.

A month goes by and you run into Joy everyday at the coffee shop. She took it upon herself to order you a hot chocolate and have it ready by the time you get there. You kept offering her the money for it but she always refuses, saying your company was payment enough. You exchanged numbers after a couple days and started texting for hours on end. By the second week she asked you out on a date and you said yes. By the third week she asked you to be her girlfriend to which you agreed excitedly.

At school, you noticed that Melissa has been a bit friendlier with you. You took her sudden change with caution though, you don’t want to get hurt again.

For Melissa, she wants to ask you out but she keeps getting scared. But after a month of being friendly with you, she decides to bite the bullet and just do it. She went to go see you at your classroom after the students left on Monday.

“Hey y/n, can I ask you something?” She asked you as she stepped in your classroom.

“Sure Melissa, what’s up?” You said and she smiled. You’ve been calling her by her first name again for about a week, and after you calling her Ms Schemmenti for 3 weeks, well she still smiles when you call her Melissa now.

“I wanted to ask you on a date.” She says and you look at her and freeze.

“What?” You ask, confused as hell.

“I wanted to officially ask you on a date.” She says and you look at her confused.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“I thought you didn’t like me.” You tell her and she looks a bit guilty.

“I never not liked you, when I realised I liked you near the end of the last year, I didn’t want to give away my feelings so I started acting distant towards you.” She says and looks down for a second then back up at you. “So will you go on a date with me?” She asks again.

“No.” You told her and she looked upset. “I did like you but I have a girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? I thought you were single.” She says confused and still hurt.

“I was, until 2 weeks ago, her name is Joy.” You said with a smile. And Melissa looks at you with a bit of fire in her eyes. “If she’s real then I would like to meet her.” She tells you, crossing her arms,

“Oh ok, ya sure. I can ask if she can come meet everyone tomorrow morning if you want.” You tell her.

“Ok, I look forward to meeting her then.” Melissa says and leaves disappointed.

You asked Joy if she wanted to meet your coworkers tomorrow morning and she excitedly agreed immediately.

So the next morning, you meet Joy at the coffee shop as usual and she hands you your hot chocolate then you drive over to the school and walk in with her. You head to the break room with her and enter and all eyes look up at you and her.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet Joy, my girlfriend. Joy, this is Janine, Jacob, Gregory, Barb, Ava.” You said, pointing to everyone as you said their name. “And this is Melissa, the one who asked to meet you.”

“Hi everyone! And hi Melissa, I’m very much real as you can see.” Joy says and Melissa doesn’t look happy, she crosses her arms and the fire in her eyes come back. She thought you were lying and would have to keep being nicer to you before you agree to go on a date with her. Barb notices Melissa getting angry and puts a hand on her arm and that startles her and then just sits there, staring at you. She sees you being all happy as Jacob and Janine got up to come say hi to your girlfriend.

She wanted to be that person, be your girlfriend and she blew it. But then remembered that you said yesterday that you did have feelings for her, so maybe you still do. Then she smiles at that thought and thinks of different ways to play it. Joy would have to go of course, she ain’t gonna put a hit on her but instead she’ll try to sabotage it, and to do that, she’ll have to be nice first and get information.

So she gets up and goes over to you two. “Hi, nice to meet you. Ya I didn’t think you were real when y/n here as been single since I’ve known her.” She says to your girlfriend then proceeds to put an arm around your back as she mentions you being single and your eyes widen a bit.

“Oh that’s alright, it was a shock to y/n too when I asked her.” Joy says, and Melissa thinks it’s a shame she’ll have to sabotage it as she seems nice. But this person is getting in the way of her happiness so she gots to go.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two meet?” Melissa asks.

“Oh we met at the coffee shop down the street, the one you told me about and I get a hot chocolate there every morning. And then I bumped into Joy about a month ago, like physically bumped into her and spilled my drink all over her.” You say with a chuckle.

“Ya she did but it was my fault, I saw her there every morning and after a couple weeks I decided to go talk to her and didn’t expect her to turn around at that very moment. So I offered to get her a replacement one and then we started talking.” Joy said with a smile.

And you noticed how Melissa’s hand got a bit lower on your back and you subtly get out of her grip and say an excuse. “Joy, do you want to go see my classroom?” You ask her and she immediately said yes. Joy waves bye to everyone and they all tell her it was nice to meet her and hope to see her again. And Melissa thinks that if it goes according to plan then she won’t be back to see them again.

At the end of the day, Melissa visits your classroom. “Hey y/n.” She says as you’re packing your things up.

“Oh hey Melissa. What’s up?” You ask her and sling your bag over your shoulders.

“Well I was wondering if I could go with you to the coffee shop tomorrow? I haven’t been there in awhile and wouldn’t mind a good store bought coffee once in awhile instead of one from the break room.” She says and you look at her confused.

“Oh I always meet Joy at the coffee shop in the morning.” You say and Melissa smiles, she knew it.

“Well that’s alright, maybe I could get to know her better then.” She says and you agree and tell her the time that you meet up with Joy.

The next morning, Melissa gets to the coffee shop first and orders a coffee for her and a hot chocolate for you. You and Joy come in a couple minutes later and see Melissa near a table with 2 drinks. “Hey Melissa.” You say and she looks over at you and smiles.

“Hey y/n and Joy. Here y/n, I got you a hot chocolate.” She says and sees the frown on Joy’s face before smiling again. Melissa smiles at that, she knew that Joy was still getting you a hot chocolate every morning. You said it yesterday to Janine and Jacob. “I would have gotten something for you but I forgot to ask y/n here what you like.” Melissa says and puts a hand on your shoulder.

Joy looks at the interaction and gives a confused look. “That’s alright, I’ll just go get a drink for myself. I’ll be right back.” She says and you and Melissa nod.

You look at Melissa a little confused. “Why are you being so much nicer all of a sudden?” You say to her and she just shrugs, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know what you mean y/n? I’m just getting to know your little girlfriend over there.” She says and hits you, Melissa is jealous.

“Melissa, are you jealous?” You asked and she scoffs. “I’m being serious, yesterday you asked me out saying you liked me. And now you’re at the coffee shop that I meet Joy at every morning and meeting nicer to me in front of her.”

“I’m just trying to make sure that she’s right for you, is all.” Trying to cover up the fact that you were right.

Before either of you can say anything else, Joy comes back with her drink. “Hey y/n, I would like to stay longer but worked called and asked if I could come in earlier. Like right now earlier. And I wouldn’t mind the extra cash.” She says and you nod.

“That’s alright, I understand, have a good day at work.” You tell her and she gives you a goodbye kiss on the lips and the fire in Melissa’s eyes return.

“Alright thanks for understanding, it was nice seeing you again Melissa.”

“Ya you too.” Melissa says back to her. Melissa didn’t like that kiss, and worse is that the only issue she has with Joy is that she’s with you. Other than that, Joy seems like a nice person, and she hates that fact.

At the end of the day Melissa stops by your classroom again. “Hey y/n.”

“Should I expect this to be a daily occurrence? You stopping by my classroom at the end of the day?” You say with a laugh and she gives a small laugh at that.

“Maybe.” She says and closes your door and walks up to you. You look at her confused for closing the door, but then think she probably wants to talk to you privately. “I don’t like her. Your girlfriend.” She says and you frown.

“Why?”

“I don't know, there’s just something about her that I don’t like.”

“Well you’ve only just met her. If you see her more then you might grow to like her.” You tell her with a smile.

“No I won’t actually.” She says and you’re confused.

“And how do you know you won’t?”

She looks you dead in the eyes and walks closer to you. “Because as long as she’s with you, then I won’t like her.” She says and she got very close to you and you had to walk back and you end up backing into your desk and she puts her hands on the desk on both sides of you, effectively trapping you. You look at her with wide eyes.

“Melissa, I-” and you don’t get to say what you were about to as her lips are on yours. You begin to kiss her back and then push her off. “Melissa what the fuck? You know I’m with Joy.” You tell her and she smirks.

“Then why did you kiss me back? And don’t deny it. I know you did before you pushed me off.” And you look at her speechless since she’s right. Melissa smiles at you and goes to kiss you again but you stop her.

“No Melissa, I’m with Joy now.” You tell her and she frowns.

“You wouldn’t rather be with me?” She asks and you shake your head.

“I’m happy with who I’m with. I’m sorry.” You tell her and walk out of your classroom, leaving behind a hurt Melissa who has a tear rolling down her cheek.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

If you want to be added then let me know!

[dramioneasks]

Can you please recommend any fics where D & H meet again and decide to give their romance a second chance?

The Injury Of Finally Knowing You - VanillaSage - E, 21 chapters, Words: 135,039 - 10 years ago, tucked away in a secret room during their Eighth Year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love. 10 years later, the echoes of how that young love burned down still haunt them when, on the day of her divorce, Hermione stumbles upon her old flame once again.

Divine Artifice By: jessiy - M, 25 chapters, Words: 162,391 - The story of how Draco Malfoy found redemption, his heart, and reclaimed his family’s honor. All thanks to a mislabeled bottle of Experimental Amortentia. Hermione/Draco

Seeing Double by naarna - M, 6 chapters - Double double, toil and trouble… How a set of twins meeting the first time at a Quidditch camp changes everything in the lives of both Draco and Hermione. A tale of second chances and mending families.

Recipe for Heartache - niffizzle - M, 3 chapters - On an early day in August a few years after the war, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger run into each other at the Three Broomsticks, which soon leads to the start of a strictly casual, no strings attached, summer fling. The only condition? At the end of the month, it would all be over. But will saying goodbye really be that easy to do?

Serendipity By: cleotheo - T, 23 chapters - A fun filled trip to Las Vegas to celebrate Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley’s upcoming wedding throws up a surprise for Hermione Granger when she comes face to face with her past love, Draco Malfoy. But is it too late for the doomed couple, or were they fated to be reunited in the most unexpected of places?

Second Time’s a Charm by the.ravenclaw.woods - M, 3 chapters - Things end about as badly as they can when Hermione gives her virginity to Draco in the Room of Requirement after the war. Nearly twenty years later, they both are set to chaperone Hogwart’s Yule Ball. After ingesting a naughty treat from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Draco and Hermione decide to give it another go. (Now) three parts/two shots. Here there be lemons.

Connecting Flight - SaintDionysus - T, one-shot - Two university sweethearts reconnect at a chance encounter in an airport terminal. I received a visual prompt from safewordisdevilsnare with the caption “What would you say to the one that got away?” and came up with this. Hope you like it. Dramione Muggle AU. To see the image, check out safewordisdevilsnare (dot) tumblr (dot) com. Just replace (dot) and spaces with .

Second Chance by DramioneConvert - M, 8 chapters - Hermione has been teaching at Hogwarts for three years , and she’s just been named as Head of Gryffindor House. When she attends her first Board of Governors meeting, that insufferable git Draco Malfoy strides back into her life. And she just keeps running into him. Sometimes literally. Now that they have a second chance at forming a relationship at Hogwarts, will it go differently this time around?

-Lisa

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

I noticed that you don't get many reqs for Sally face sooooo... getting high w/ sal?

always feel free to ignore if you're uncomfortable with writing it!

-🦇anon

Omg i love this prompt....

Credits to divider go to saradika-graphics! Go follow them and support their work

Thank you so much for requesting!!

Getting high with Sal

Because you were coming over tonight, Sal wanted to try something extra special

It would just be the two of you, no dad, no Larry, no Lisa, no Gizmo

....well, maybe Gizmo

And he wants to see if you two share the same connection subconsciously that you do consciously

So he begs Larry for a joint, and Larry only gives it to him on the promise Sal tells him everything that happens

You were informed of the plan, of course

So as you take the ride up the elevator to Sal's apartment, you can't contain your excitement

Everyone else is spending the night at Lisa's apartment, so when you knock on the door, it is Sal who answers, sharing the same excitement you do

You see his eyes crinkle up in excitement as he hurriedly invites you in

The two of you sit on the couch, sharing a moment of awkward silence

"So...." You mutter

"Sooo..." He copies

"Do you think we should do it in here or in your room?" You ask, worried that you might get caught

Sal thinks for a moment, before looking over to his bedroom door "In there. Dad might come back for something and we'll at least have a chance to look innocent there"

You nod and take his hand, heading over to his bedroom together

Once you get in, he begins setting up a movie for you two to watch

You flop onto his bed, breathing in the scent left on his blankets

"What'chu sniffing my bed for? Weirdo." He teases

You flip him off in response, before sitting up and grabbing the joint off his nightstand and lighting it

You take an experimental hit, coughing at the burning in your throat

Sal laughs and takes it from you, taking a hit under his prosthetic

The smoke comes out through the eye holes, making his eyes water

It is now your turn to laugh, you lean back and tilt your head "Do you wanna take it off?"

He goes quiet for a second, then shakes his head "It's fine, I'll manage"

The rest of the night is spent taking turns with the joint, and eventually it is snuffed out and tossed to the side

You are both thoroughly zonked now, Sal is laying on your chest and you have an arm around him, drawing shapes onto his back

If you are the talkative type, Sal will listen to all you have to say quietly

And if you get quiet like him, you will sit in comfortable silence, occasionally getting up to go get snacks

Well, most of the time he's quiet

Sometimes he'll shoot up, making you look at him worriedly before mumbling something about how gravity almost took him

And you will be there to drag him back down to your chest and kiss his head, telling him that you'll protect him from gravity <3

[oneforthemunny]

love me tender |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: you and eddie's first time.

contains: soft, sweet, fluffy fluff with sweet precious smut about their first time together intimately. 18+ MINORS DNI oral fem rec, p in v sex

The bell rang at two-thirty, dismissing the masses of school children out of Hawkins Elementary. You had bus duty, ensuring each child got on their designated vehicle home. It was a Friday before a long weekend, so the kids were extra excited. Bouncing off the walls, clamoring excitedly, and entirely too rambunctious for your liking. You were still patient with them, of course, you didn't blame them for being excited. You were just excited as they were, just as eager to leave the red brick building and go home to get ready.

Ready for tonight, date night, at your house with Eddie- the fourth date you'd officially had, not counting the daily lunch dates, when he's help you decorate your classroom after hours. You'd fallen for Eddie fast, quicker than you ever expected, a swirling, golden love affair that left your warm and light, eager to be with him all the time. To know more about him until you knew him better than he knew himself, reveling in the tiny details he'd tell you about himself, treasuring them protectively like it was only for you to know. You liked to think it was.

Your mind raced, detached from the children rampaging around you, scurrying and equaling as they got on the yellow buses. When you got off, you'd have a ten minute drive to your place, and Eddie got off an hour after you. He said he'd be over at five, but you knew by now he's be there early, he was always eager to see you.

Two hours. Two hours to get ready, shower, shave, prepare. You'd been preparing for tonight, taking drunken, wine drenched advice from your girlfriends about how to make the first move.

"Just tell him you want to fuck," Lisa, your best friend, laughed, sipping her merlot on the floor of your living room just a week earlier, after your last date with Eddie. "I've never met a guy who turned that down."

"Yeah, but what if he does?" You bit your lip nervously, hands wringing and twisting in your lap. "What if he says no? God, how embarrassing would that be." You groaned, face flushing at the thought.

Lisa shrugged. "I'm sure he'd have his reason, but I doubt he will." She tipped her head towards you knowingly. "He's probably trying to be a gentleman. Just tell him it's alright, that you want to."

And you did. God, you really did. You just weren't sure how to go about it. You'd never been with a guy who didn't pressure you on the first date, let alone the fourth. Usually by then, they weren't even romancing you anymore, just lazy fucks that felt one sided and left you a little soured.

Eddie was different. Different than any guy you'd ever met. So sweet and kind, the type of adoration for you that you only found in your romance novels, fictional, perfect, flawless men- not real life.

He always opened the door for you. Always greeted you with a warm smile, like he was genuinely happy to see you, even on days when he felt less than great.

And that's exactly how he greeted you when you opened the door at four-twenty-two, brown eyes lit up and dazzling in the golden cast of the setting sun, a bottle of wine- the kind you ordered when he took you out to dinner- in his hand. His hair was still wet, damp curls making a slight ring around his t-shirt.

"Hi," Eddie's smile never dropped, only growing wider when you returned it. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek in the doorway, hesitating before his lips slotted over yours.

You pressed yourself further into him, hand snaking to cradle his jaw, tenderly and affectionate on your doorstep, where any of your neighbors could see.

Eddie blushed when you pulled apart, lips pulled tightly in a grin he tried to hide. "Hi," You giggled back. "Come in."

Eddie stepped in, setting the wine on the little table where you put your keys, shimmying off his jean jacket. He took in the entranceway, filled with photos he'd seen before but not quite memorized- not yet, anyways.

"Sorry, I'm a little early." Eddie muttered, leaning down to pull off his shoes. "I left early to get the wine so it'd be fresh and chilled, ya know? And I thought it would be busier, and I thought I timed it better, but it was dead for a-"

You laughed, sweet and light, stopping him, his breath catching in his chest. "Ed, it's alright." You smiled. "'M glad you got here earlier. More time I get to spend with you." You nudged him sweetly.

Eddie's cheeks flamed, setting his boots neatly next to your little house shoes. "That's right." He tried to answer cooly, but his heart hammered in his chest, palms sweaty. It still felt overwhelming that you would want him, want to spend time with him.

You looked at the label of the wine. "You didn't have to bring anything." You looked at him sweetly.

"Well, you said at lunch that the kids were wild today, so...figured you'd need it." Eddie stood, placing his hand over yours on top of the bottle.

"Good call," You scoffed lightly, giggling. You padded into the kitchen, the sweet, heavy air wafting into Eddie's senses. "I have beer or I think I still have some leftover merlot if you want any?" You offered, pulling out your wine opener out of your drawer. "Or you could share this with me, of course. Or not drink at all, if you don't want to. I just-I wanted to offer the other if you didn't want this..." You rambled, cringing slightly at yourself.

Eddie reached in the cabinet, pulling out the two wine glasses out for you. "I'll finish off that merlot." He said, setting the glasses in front of you. "That one's all yours, baby."

Your heart fluttered at the name, sweet and drawn out, with the same little drawl that leaves you wondering where he picked that up. You hoped you'd find out in time.

"I'm making some cookies." You said, voice echoing and drowning as you spoke into your wine glass, lifting it to take a sip. "Peanut butter chocolate chip. I-I remembered you told Steve those were your favorite last week at lunch."

Eddie's heart swelled. You had remembered. You thought of him and what he liked, and you made it for him. Eddie swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbling around his constricting throat. "That-That's really nice." He smiled. "You didn't have to do that, ya know. I'd be fine with whatever you wanted to make me."

You shrugged lightly. "Yeah, but it's something you like. I wanted to make it for you." You said simply. "I like baking. It's relaxing, ya know?"

"No, I don't." Eddie laughed, dimples deep in his cheeks, crinkling by his eyes. "I'm awful at baking. At cooking really. Unless you count, like, box mac'n'cheese." His giggles were infectious to you. "Maybe you could teach me, huh?"

You stiffened at the suggestion, blush blooming over your cheeks and the back of your neck. "Yeah, I could teach you a thing or two." You shrugged playfully. "But you gotta do something for me in exchange. Teach me something."

"Teaching the teacher? Sounds exciting." Eddie laughed, eyes lighting up when you giggled back at him. "I'm sure there's a few things I could teach ya." The words spilled out of his mouth before he could process them, a tiny, half grin that had you flushing.

Eddie's heart fell slightly, eyes widening. He hadn't meant for it to sound so suggestive. He didn't want you to think that's all he was here for. He enjoyed your company, enjoyed you. As eager as he was to fuck you, to get to experience you in such an intimate way, he was petrified of scaring you off, having you get the wrong idea and leave.

The shrill of the timer on the oven saved him. You scurried to find an oven mitt and pull the tray of cookies out, placing them on a cooling rack next to your little potted spices in the windowsill.

"Um, they need to cool for a while." You said, placing the mitt back in the drawer. You took a rather large gulp of your wine, downing most of it before topping it back off. "We can go ahead and watch a movie if you want? Or see what's on TV."

Eddie nodded, following your lead. Ever the gentleman, he let you pick the movie. He didn't even complain when it was a chick flick, like he would've in the past. You rambled about how the movie was one of your favorites, and he was sold. He wanted to watch it. Get to know you a little better, what you liked, what you watched in your free time.

You'd found his chest easily, head nuzzled into his shoulder, turning your nose into the fabric of his t-shirt. You could smell his after shave and deodorant, mixed with the cologne he's sprayed before leaving the van, desperately trying to mask the cigarettes he'd smoked before he came to your house.

Eddie's arm was around you, hand placed respectfully on your lower back, fingertips softly tracing the fabric of your shirt. With every sip of wine that passed your lips, you loosened up a little more. Got a little more relaxed, a little bolder.

You stared up at Eddie, eyes round and awaiting. He looked down at you. "Hi, sweet girl." He giggled.

"Hi," You whispered back, looking at his plump, soft lips, pink and enticing, begging to be kissed.

You didn't wait for his question, pressing your lips to his. Your hand finding the back of his neck, while your wine tipped dangerously in the other, sloshing over the rim carefully and onto the floor. You fumbled to find the coffee table, setting your glass down, lips still locked on Eddie's.

Eddie was startled by the kiss. The way you so confidently came onto him. He melted into you easily, like he always did, small clicks of exchanged spit and movement of lips muffled under the dialogue from the movie blaring on the TV.

Eddie's hand cupped your jaw sweetly, pulling you in closer to him, pushing your hair sweetly behind your ear. His cock lurched when you bit at his lower lip, just teasingly, a little playful nibble that had his stomach twisting in the most delightful way.

You moved, knees sinking into the worn, emerald cushions of your couch. You fumbled, clumsily, to straddle him, hips burning at the stretch to fit over his thighs. Eddie's eyes snapped open, breath hitching when you straddled him, grinding down onto his bulge.

"Wait, hold on-" Eddie pushed your shoulders back gently, detaching his lips from yours.

Your heart hammered, head spinning with the effects of the wine. Eddie searched your face, brown eyes wide and cautious with alert. "Baby, I-I don't want to pressure you or anything, ok?" He started. he could feel the sweat forming at his hairline, wetting the top of his bangs. "We don't have to-"

"Oh my God," You muttered, sitting back on his thighs, burying your face in your hands. "I-I'm so sorry." You stammered, and even through the glow of the TV, Eddie could see how red you were. "I just thought... I'm sorry. I shouldn't've done that."

Eddie shook his head, holding your hands gently when you tried to move. "Hey, hey, wait a second," Eddie whispered. "I didn't-"

"No, I-I'm so stupid, I'm sorry." You could feel your throat tighten and burn, the threat of tears coming in quick. "I just... I thought you might want to, but-but I should have asked. I should have checked with you or-or at least-"

"Baby, I-I want to." Eddie admitted, eyes widening. "Like, I really want to, I just didn't want you to think," He paused, hesitating. Your brows furrowed, head falling to the side in curiosity. "I didn't want you to think I was using you or anything." Eddie admitted.

"Using me?" You repeated.

Eddie sighed heavily. "I really like you." He admitted, cheeks blushing childishly at the admission. "I really like you and-and, fuck, I've wanted to be with you like this since the night at the Hideout, but I don't want you to think that's the only reason I'm with you. Because it's not. I really, really like you."

You bit your lip, smiling down at him, "I really, really like you." You whispered back with a giggle.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, face lighting up with excitement. "Really, really?" He teased.

"Really, really, really." You nodded with a laugh. The two of your so playfully childish, chirping all dopey and giggly at each other like the kids in your classroom did at recess, holding hands on the swings.

You moved closer, shifting so your clothed core was on top of his. You rocked your hips, slow up and down his zipper, the fabric of his jeans creating a small spark of friction between your legs. Eddie bit back a moan, breath catching as his eyes dropped between the two of you, watching you rock slowly up and down on his bulge, his hands gripping your waist tightly.

"And," You breathed out, your nose touching his gently. "I really, really want to have sex with you." Eddie's mouth ran dry at your admission. You blinked at him, batting your eyes flirtatiously. "Please?" You added with a small pout.

Eddie swallowed, nodding dumbly at you, eyes wide and trained on yours. He was sure his heart was in his throat, that he was choking on it and that's why it was so hard for him to breathe.

Sure, he'd had sex before. Not any brag worthy amount, but enough to know the basics of what he was doing, but they were never personal. It was always sex first, feelings follow- which is usually why the girls never stuck around very long after. With you, it was different. He wanted it to be special, full of love, and not rushed or rough or meaningless like his past ones had been. Even when he lost his virginity, an older girl with a tongue piercing that found a quarter on the sticky bathroom floor to get him a condom out of the dispenser.

Eddie smiled, but his eyes remained wide, a little frantic and wild. You ran a hand down his cheek softly. "Eddie, I don't want to pressure you." You whispered, squirming back on his thighs to climb off his broad lap. "I can tell you don't want to, and that's ok, really. I should've asked before making a move, I just-"

Eddie stopped you before you could push off, clammy hand on your hip. His eyes were wide when they met your gaze. "I want to," Eddie said quietly. "I just..."

You watched him carefully, tucking your lip, reading his expression for any sign of discomfort. "Are... Is this your first time?" You asked.

Eddie faltered, brows creasing, blinking rapidly. "What? No, no, I-I've had sex before." He blinked. "Is it your first time?"

You smirked, wiggling on his lap. "Obviously not." You giggled, blushing gently at the admission.

Eddie grinned back, hand running over the soft skin of your hip and up to your waist, slowly inching further under your shirt. He could feel the silk material of your bra graze his pinky.

"I just... I can't believe you, like, actually want to have sex with me." Eddie admitted.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, tilting your head to the side. "Whatdya mean?" You asked. "Do I give off... non-sexual vibes?" You tensed under his touch suddenly, a little vulnerable at the perception.

"No!" Eddie exclaimed, shaking his head hard. "No, no, not at all. Not even close." He breathed, heat rising up his neck with embarrassment. His mind raced, berating and horrible thoughts screaming in his own ears.

"I mean, like, not just sexually. Sexually, but just in general too." Eddie muttered. "I just don't know why you want to be with me, and-and it blows my mind sometimes. Feels like it's a dream, or-or a sick joke."

You pouted sympathetically, moving in to cup his cheeks gently, thumbs caressing his cheek bones. Eddie leaned into your touch, his own hands finding your wrists to hold them delicately.

"Eddie, why would I not want to be with you?" You asked simply. "You're sweet, and kind, and funny, and important."

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "'M not important." He muttered into your palm.

"You're important to me." You said firmly. His eyes lifted, eyeing you with a broken, beat down look that had your heart aching. "You're very important to me. And to your friends, Steve, your uncle. You're important, Eddie. Don't say that you're not. That's not true."

Eddie felt his heart swell, a familiar strangled burn of a cry deep in his throat. He felt soothed, a warm bath after a cold day kind of soothed. Familiar, and loving, and overwhelming; it made his head spin.

Eddie smiled at you, soft and bashful before he pulled you in close, lips capturing yours gently and sweetly, kissing you with so much affection and attention that it rivaled the characters on the screen, kissing in the rain after a fight.

Hands started to roam, tongues dancing and swirling, while Eddie moved on top of you, laying you down on the couch delicately, slotting himself between your legs. His hands were needy on you, clinging to you might evaporate into thin air if he wasn't touching you.

You felt him grind his hips, slow thrusts over clothed skin into your core, his lips moving from your lips to your cheeks, feeling his breath ghost over the trail of saliva he left from kisses. Your hands found purchase on the small of his back, gripping his t-shirt into your hands, rubbing slowly up and down his back, barely grazing his jean clad ass.

Eddie groaned when you wrapped your legs around his waist, taking note of every whine and moan that left your body, where he kissed, how he sucked your skin delicately. Eddie's hands pushed the top of your shirt up, lifting you gently to pull it over your head, leaving you in nothing but a silk, pale pink bra, a tiny rose in the center of the scoop neck fabric. His eyes zoned in on your breast, seeing the outline of your hardened nipples even through the material.

You blushed, reaching to cover yourself instinctively, his gaze scorching and uncomfortable, but Eddie grabbed your hands, holding them lightly. He breathed slowly, staring for a bit too long before he gave a lopsided smile.

"Fuckin' perfect." He muttered, hands sliding down your waist and up your ribcage. He hesitated when he reached the bottom of your bra, fingers ghosting over the wire, eyes flicking to yours gently as if to ask permission.

You bit your lip, nodding quickly, eyes on him, taking in every small quirk in his expression. How his eyes lit up, corner of his mouth ticking into a grin, when his hands rubbed gently over the silk fabric of your padded cups, squeezing them gently and massaging your breasts lightly while you moaned, head tipping back.

Eddie's hands shook, fumbling with the clasp of your bra when he unhooked it. He removed it slow, like it was a big reveal, a gift he wanted to savor before seeing for the first time. Goosebumps covered your body when he bared your chest, from the cold air on the exposed skin, and the look in Eddie's eyes.

His hands cupped your breasts gently, massaging them and pushing them up and around your chest, leaving you giggling. "What're you doing?" You asked, pulling him out of his trance.

Eddie blushed, gaze on your only for a moment before dropping back down. "They're just... They're nice." He admitted boyishly.

You laughed loudly, vibrations from your chest buzzing through his hands. "Nice?" You asked, giggly and blushy.

Eddie nodded, dried curls bouncing and hitting his shoulders. "Very nice." He breathed out with a laugh. "You got a nice rack, baby, what can I say?" He teased making you laugh even harder.

You looked down at his hands on your breasts, thumbing over your nipples making the heat intensify between your thighs. "I'm glad you like them." You grinned, wickedly sultry, lip tucked between your teeth.

Eddie felt his bulge grow even more. He wasn't even sure how that was possible, but he was sure if you looked at him like that again, he'd burst through his jeans. "I really like them." Eddie admitted dumbly.

You smirked. "Yeah? I can tell." You whispered, rolling your core down onto his bulge pressed against you.

Eddie groaned, eyes pinching closed in pleasure, squeezing your breast a little harder at the sensation. "Fuck, baby, p-please don't do that." He muttered. "I'll cream my jeans if you keep doing that."

You laughed, pulling him by the back of his neck closer to you, his hands on your chest still, melting into your kiss.

Your hands moved down to the waist band of his jeans, fumbling at his top button. Eddie pulled apart, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, unbuttoning his own jeans, shoving them off roughly. He was tented in his black boxers, faded with the elastic shot in the waist band. They were the only clean ones he had, that he could find on the mess of his floor.

"Wait a second," You said, sitting up before he could climb back on top of you. Your hands went to your own pants, unzipping and shimmying them down under the curve of your ass.

Eddie pulled them off slowly, carefully, eyes trained on your little high cut matching panties, ruched and silk with the same matching rose on the waist band. He could see the slight damp spot on the front of them, where your arousal seeped through.

Eddie was sure he was going to bust now.

You barely had time to register what he was doing when he dropped to the floor, hands on either side of your hips, mouth on the damp spot on your panties. You gasped, fisting his hair gently when he licked you, sucking the fabric of your panties, and nibbling at your clit through the silk ferociously, like a man starved.

Eddie moaned, sending waves and vibrations to your clit, heat building in your tummy intensifying. "Oh! Eddie, please, right there." You whined, head pressed back into the downy cushions of your couch.

Eddie's eyes were closed, devouring you like you were the tastiest meal on the planet. Maybe you were, to him anyways. He'd be fine eating you for the rest of his life, he was sure of it.

Eddie could taste your arousal, the tangy sweetness of you that left his mind reeling, start to seep more and more potent through the fabric. He hooked his finger around your panties, breath catching when he saw your puffy pussy, glistening at him- for him.

He looked up at you, eyes locked to yours when he lowered his mouth onto your wet folds, licking a long, slow stripe down your core, leaving you whining and crying out at the sensation. Eddie pulled back for a moment, letting the taste of you set in on his tongue, savoring it before his hands gripped on your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

You squirmed and squealed on the couch, thighs clenched around his head so tightly you were sure you'd squeeze his head until it popped. But Eddie didn't seem to mind, mouth suctioned around your clit, fingers loosening you up as your writhed and bucked beneath his tongue.

"Oh, fuck, Ed, 'm so close. So close-oh!" You shrilled, hips bucking, thighs tightening and snapping closed around his head when he curled his fingers, scissoring the lightly open and then curling up inside of you, making you gush around his fingers.

Your chest hammered and heaved with heavy, bated breaths, and you were sure you blacked out for a moment. You'd never had an orgasm like that. Not with your vibrator, certainly not with any of your ex's. Your eyes glazed, thighs shaking and quivering gently when they finally relaxed underneath him, freeing his head from your grasp.

Eddie licked his fingers when he stood up, looking down at you skeptically, lips twisted in concern. "You alright?" He asked, hand still sticky and wet with your release cupping your cheek.

You were sprawled back into the couch, limbs weak around you. You blinked up at him, small, steadying breaths leaving your parted lips. "Y-Yeah," You said, swallowing around your thick tongue. "I just... I need a sec, that was..." You closed your eyes, slinging an arm over them.

Eddie hesitated. He'd thought you'd enjoyed it, but now he was a little self conscious. "Did I hurt you?" Eddie asked carefully.

"No," You replied quickly, eyes bulging to look at him with wide eyes. "No, you definitely didn't hurt me." You laughed, shaking your head. "That was amazing, Eddie, really. I-I've never..." You shook your head, hiding your blushing cheeks in your hands at the admission.

Eddie grinned, sloppy and proud. His chest boasted a little, puffing out as he looked down at you. "Yeah?" He asked.

You nodded. "Yeah." You agreed, hazy eyes looking back at him.

His cock lurched, jaw gritting at the sight of you, exposed and flushed laying on the couch. He tried to memorize every part of your body, every curve and crevice in case it was the last time he saw it. God, he hoped it wasn't the last time he saw you, but it all seemed too good; too good for him.

You sighed heavily, pulling yourself up on shaky legs, his hand immediately reaching out to steady you. "I, um, I have some condoms in my room if you didn't bring any." You admitted with a blush. "Not that I have a lot of guys over or in my room. You're the only guy, I just- I bought them for you."

Eddie beamed. "For me?" He repeated. "You were planning this, huh?"

You blushed, deep crimson down your neck and chest, awkwardly covering yourself under his gaze. "Maybe," You muttered. "Wishful thinking, right? I was hoping we'd get to, eventually."

Eddie smirked, hand on your waist squeezing it gently, he pulled you close to him, his erection on your tummy through the cotton of his boxers. "I packed a few in my wallet." He nodded towards the front table. "Guess I had the same idea." He admitted sweetly.

You giggled, hands running down his inked biceps, lightly tracing over the etches on his skin, ones you'd never seen before because they were hidden by his shirt. "Um, how about you get that, and I'll meet you in my bedroom?" You suggested, batting your eyes at him.

Eddie nodded, swallowing thickly as he watched you turn, scampering to your bedroom, fat of your ass jiggling with every step you took. Eddie felt his knees tighten, sure he'd fall to them at any moment. For you, he gladly would.

Eddie fumbled through his wallet, fingers digging for the gold foiled condom he'd slipped in there two dates ago, just in case. He'd never planned to, but he wasn't sure how the night would go.

You were waiting on the edge of the bed, candle lit on the bedside table softly illuminating the room in a romantic glow. Your bare body exposed and kneeling, waiting for him. Eddie gripped the door frame tight, so hard he was sure he'd break the worn, paint chipped wood.

"Jesus, fuck, baby." Eddie muttered, eyes roaming over your body quickly. He worried he'd miss a detail, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd have this burned into the back of his eyelids if he could, content with seeing this image forever and ever.

You grabbed him gently when he got closer, pushing the hem of his boxers down until they slid down to his ankles, cock springing onto his belly, angry and red and already spilling for you.

"Oh," You whispered, eyes bulging wide when you looked down at his erection.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie shifted, hands reaching to cover himself. Fuck, had he messed up the shaving that bad? He'd tried to follow the magazine article Steve had lent him on 'manscaping', whatever the fuck that was, but it ended up a little uneven.

You shook your head. "Nothing." You said quickly, reaching out to move his hand away gently. "It's just..." Your index finger traced the length of him with an airy light touch, tracing up the vein of his cock that had Eddie groaning. "It's big." You admitted, eyes rounding up at him with surprise.

Eddie stammered, reddening under your admission. "I-I mean, it's not-"

"It's pretty big, Eddie." You said, gripping it gently in your hand, stroking up and down his shaft lightly. Eddie shuddered, exhaling shakily, hands finding your shoulders for balance. "Biggest I've ever seen."

Eddie boasted, smirking pridefully. "You don't have to sweet talk me, angel." Eddie laughed. "You already got my pants off."

You giggled, looking up at him with a hidden grin, hands still stroking him lazily. You looked down at his leaking tip. "Can I...Can I taste it?" You asked, dewey-eyed with excitement. Eddie felt the breath leave his lungs. "Please?" You added sweetly.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie groaned before shaking his head rapidly, fingers pressing into your shoulders when you reached down, pumping him gently before your warm tongue swiped over his tip, gathering all his salty spend.

"Mmm," You moaned behind closed mouth, rolling your tongue around in your mouth, swallowing lightly. You looked up at him again, smiling innocently before you leaned back over him, wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock, tongue swirling gently.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," Eddie rambled, cheeks clenching to keep his hips steady. "Wait, fuck, wait." Eddie huffed out, groaning at the loss of warmth when you pulled your mouth off him, looking up at him questioningly.

"I-I, that feels so good, but, baby," Eddie sighed. "I won't last. I'm already so fuckin' close, let me just," He reached over, tearing open the condom before rolling it down his shaft. "I just need to be inside you, ok. Is that alright?"

You nodded, watching him roll the condom over his length. You looked back up at him, scooting back so you were sitting on the bed. "How do you want me?" You asked.

Eddie smirked. "How do you want me?" He asked back, tilting his head to the side. "Whatever's best for you, sweetheart. You just let me know how you want it."

Your heart swelled, beaming and gleaming up at him as you scooted back, lying back slowly until you were on your back. "I wanna see you." You admitted.

Eddie's heart lurched, crawling in the space between your legs. He pushed your thighs to your chest, slowly, placing kisses on the inside of your knees. He looked down, lining himself up with your entrance, rubber tipped cock circling your sopping hole.

"You ready?" Eddie asked, one hand on the mattress beside your waist.

You nodded, sitting up for you could watch down your sternum as he pushed in. You hissed at the stretch, a little uncomfortable with his girth. Eddie stopped. "You alright? You want me to keep going?" He asked.

"Yeah, just go slow," You tensed, and Eddie let out a broken, shaky sigh. Your pussy squeezing his already aching cock, strangling it as his hips met yours.

Eddie waited for a moment, watching you carefully, feeling your hips rotate and move around him until you relaxed, little thrusts and grinds onto him. You looked up at him, removing your hands from your thighs, placing them on either side of his face, and giving him a small nod.

Slow, purposeful thrusts, hips meeting yours, curls falling and tickling your face as Eddie hovered you. His breath was hot on your cheek, nuzzling and pressing gentle kisses onto your skin, pace quickening with every slow, deep roll of his hips.

Your back arched off the bed, nails digging into his back when he snapped his hips, rather hard into you. Eddie tensed, looking back down at you carefully. You didn't wait to hear the question, clawing at him, legs tightening to bring him closer, deeper into you.

"Do it again," You rasped. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

So Eddie didn't. His hips repeated their ministrations into you, snapping against you, pulling out just to slam into you again, leaving you whining and dizzy. You felt full of him, filled up and given him every inch of space.

"Oh, shit, sweetheart." Eddie's breath was hot in your ear, voice low and breathy. His pace quickened, grunts louder and thrusts quicker. "You feel- mmmfuck- feel so good. So fuckin' good."

You whined when his tip brushed your sensitive spot, making your abdomen clench, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie pulled back out of your neck, resting his forehead on top of yours. Bangs sticky with sweat, matted against your skin, his nose brushing yours.

You could tell he was close, by the way his jaw clenched, thrusts getting tighter and faster, breathing ragged and rapid. His eyes stayed on yours, scorching gaze that left you burning and aching for more. You could feel his hips clench, the small whine falling out of his lips as he thrusted deep, jamming into your g-spot and leaving you crying out, head tilting back and grappling at his shoulders, while his lips found your neck, sucking and nibbling gently.

Eddie grunted into the delicate skin, whiny moans desperate and tired muffled by your skin. You sunk into the mattress, feeling his weight on top of yours. Hips burning with the stretch against your chest, but you wouldn't complain. Not if it meant he might stay with you like this.

Eddie shivered when he pushed off of you, rolling over to reach for the used condom, filled up and embarrassingly large amount that he tried to hide, hunched over and guarded when he tied it off. You rolled your head over to look at him, watching him stand and look around the room for the trashcan.

"In the bathroom. Next to the toilet." You said softly, letting your legs fall flat, spread out starfish style on the bed.

Eddie padded into the bathroom, rummaging through the drawers before he stuck his head out. "Do you have a cloth or something?" He asked.

"Second drawer from the top." You told him sweetly, pushing up on your forearms.

"I got it." Eddie said with a small smile. "I got it. Lemme take care of you, ok? I'll get you cleaned up."

Your heart swelled and fluttered at his words, the warm feeling in your chest intensifying when he came back, carefully wiping you, muttering apologies when you winced, pressing soothing kisses into your hair line.

You'd rolled over when he'd returned, one leg tucked under the sheets and the other extended down the bed. Eddie swallowed hard, eyes trained on your ass, the slope of your back, hair sprawled on the pillows next to you.

"I, um, that was really great." Eddie muttered, fumbling for his boxers on the ground, stepping into them carelessly.

You looked over at him, heavy lidded and dazed. "That was amazing." you smiled gently, his heart fluttering. "Better than I could've ever imagined."

Eddie laughed. "So you've been imagining me sexually, huh?" He teased with a lifted brow. "Dirty girl."

You giggled. "Can you blame me?" You smirked. You watched him step into the living room, his t-shirt in his hands. "Are-Are you leaving?" You asked with a frown, sitting up in the bed.

Eddie looked down at his shirt, he'd figured you'd want to wear it to sleep. His heart dropped at the thought that you wanted him to leave. He hadn't even thought of that. "I, uh, I-I can if you want me to."

You pouted. "I'd really like you to stay." You admitted quietly, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself, feeling too exposed, too vulnerable.

Eddie's heart leaped, fists clenching around the shirt. "Alright, yeah." He nodded, stepping towards the other side of the bed. "I-I, here." He extended the shirt to you. "I just figured you'd want something to sleep in. This is your house, I know, so if you want something else, just let me know. I can get you your pajamas or-or whatever you're comfortable in-"

You grinned, grabbing the shirt and slipping it over your head. You held the neckline close to your nose, inhaling Eddie's lingering scent, letting it was over you, leaving you hazy and gooey. Eddie gawked slightly, eyes wide when you met his gaze.

You pushed the duvet down, shimmying over so he had room. "C'mon in," You smiled, patting the mattress. "I promise it's a comfy mattress."

Eddie snorted lightly, sinking into the space next to you. He wouldn't tell you this yet, but he'd sleep on molten lave if it meant he could sleep next to you. You pushed your leg over Eddie's hips, snuggling into his side while his hands found your back, loving touches and stolen giggles shared between the sheets.

Eddie slept hard that night, better than he had in years. Content and happy to be next to you, even if you drooled, even if he snored, even if you hogged the blanket, and he kicked in his sleep. He couldn't imagine sleeping next to anyone else, being with anyone else.

He stayed with you the entire long weekend, hoarded up in your little home, helping you with small household tasks, stealing soft kisses, bending you over the kitchen counter when you made breakfast.

Tuesday came entirely too soon for either of you. You watched Eddie leave in the early darkness of the morning, heading to his home for his uniform then to school. When you saw each other later, small waves exchanged in the hallway while you greeted the kids entering and he swept, he couldn't help but grin, wide and goofy and uncaring; happy. Happy to be with you.