#might as well put salt on the door handle!

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

One more roommate thing. We’re on break for the week. Girl has asked me literally 20+ times if I’m leaving, when I’m leaving, when I’ll be back, if I’m leaving, if I’m for sure leaving, do I know for sure yet when I won’t be here. I finally asked her why it mattered so much and it’s bc she “doesn’t like being alone”

[carolmunson]

wake up slow | barista!steve harrington

entry for my fall frenzy requests this request comes in from @superblysubpar: 'there's a scenario with bookstore / library date AND a dialogue prompt that says "what are you reading?"' with steve harrington summary: it's 1990. you're on the opening shift at the bookstore you work at, only to be surprised at a newcomer claiming to be up for an interview for the open barista position in the cafe at the back. sort of put off to start, it's no surprise when things start to bloom over time, and i'm not talking about coffee grounds. tl;dr carol writes a mini romcom.

tw: minors dni, there's nothing too out of whack in this one but i still don't want minors in here. reader is a little sassy but also like, pretty normal overall.

That damn key jams every time it rains -- doesn't help that you left your umbrella at home. Doesn't help that the 'light mist' turned into a heavy downpour the closer you made it to the book store. Doesn't help that you had to park a street over because of street cleaning and had to walk a block in the rain. Now the damn key.

"Come on," you grumble, jiggling an wiggling to no avail. Insert, r-insert, slight tilt to the right, jiggle, pull out a little, turn a little left and then -- nothing. You take the key out only for it to fall to the ground with a fairy like tinkling.

"Come -- the fuck -- on," you nearly growl under your breath while your coat gets heavier and heavier with rain, hood soaking through and dripping water onto your face. You bend down to get the key with a sigh meant for people with back pain, coming back up again to see the coffee bar manager on the other side of the glass door. He chuckles, salt and pepper beared thick over his chin and cheeks. Ruddy skin beams red even in the cool grey light of the morning, 30 years a butcher who pivoted into coffee when he turned fifty and had a really good knack for it.

"Easy morning?"

"Does it look like one, Carl?" you ask, stepping in when he opens the door. He laughs again, a hearty belly laugh that might as well have transported him into a Santa suit in December. "What happened to you?" he asks, following you into the back room where you start putting your stuff in your cubby. You switch out your wet sneakers and socks for the platform loafers and knee highs in your bag. Now that the fall weathers hit, it's all corduroy and knit sweaters, circle skirts and tall socks. If you're going to be on your fifth year working at an idyllic bookstore, you might as well look the part.

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?" "I know," he nods, "Gimme one second." Carl comes back with a white paper cup and black lid that makes you smile from the inside out, "Is that what I think it is?" "Isn't it always?" he smiles, "I got it ready the second I saw you on the schedule. Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too." "You spoil me," you sigh, taking the cup from him and letting the warmth radiate through your hands.

"I do," he nods, "But, that latte was the last of my regular milk so I need to run out and grab a few gallons before we open up. You okay to be hangin' out by yourself?"

You nod, of course you're okay to be hanging out by yourself. You take the first sip, letting the caramel flood your tongue. The maple is a good addition. You're about to tell Carl to add this to the seasonal menu but he's already out the break room door with his coat before you can. You hear the jingle of the bell and the lock of the door and eventually the silence settling into the store around you.

You start to re-organize the window display which should've been done last night but 'last night you' said that 'this morning you' could handle it. You wish you could punch last night you in the face, but this is what you get for taking an assistant manager position.

You stack the back to school reads next to your knees where you're sat on them. The dust billows when you move them, making you sneeze with each turn of your head. You rub at your eyes, realizing at that very moment that the mascara you put on this morning has now definitely smudged -- you can't even find the emotional capacity to check considering the store opens in forty five minutes. You wipe down the display shelves, letting the oak gleam under the spot lights. The color is a warm reminder of the cozy moments to come the way that they do this time of year. As you start separating the 'cozy reads' from your 'spooky reads' in the pile on the other side of your knees you hear a knocking at the door --that's not very like Carl to forget his key.

You look over your shoulder, not seeing Carl at all, and if it is, he had some kind of Seventeen Again magic happen to him in that time at the store. You stand up, wiping off your knees and straightening your skirt before getting to the door where the rapping continues against the glass. "We aren't open yet!" you call out.

"M'here for Carl!" you hear, muffled through the panes. "For the barista spot?" you yell back. The guy nods under his hood, the rain picking up in heavy sheets. You sigh, unlocking the door and letting him in. "Carl's not here, he ran out to get some more milk but um, you're welcome to wait in the break room if you want," you explain, wiping a palm over another display through the main hallway and wiping the dust off on your hip. "Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

"I'm Steve," he says with a smile, hand now outstretched to take yours. You look at it and then at him, finally taking in the sight before you. Prominent straight nose, warm amber eyes, lips that definitely use chapstick regularly. He has a nice smile, the kind you read about in the romance novels in the back of the store, the kind people write about.

You take his hand and introduce yourself, he has a business major handshake and you only know that because you dated a handful of them back in college. You try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out airily out of your nose.

"Something funny?" he asks when you both let go. "No, no, sorry, I just thought of something from the other day," you shake your head, "Don't worry about it." He nods, taking off his coat and closing his umbrella following your lead to the back, "It's a cute place."

"Yeah, it's nice in the morning," you nod, "I normally close but -- doing a favor for a key holder today; so you have the pleasure of seeing the troll of the store in her natural habitat."

"What?"

"Nothing -- nevermind," you shake your head, cheeks burning with a wave of embarrassment when you look back and notice that he's genuinely very handsome. You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

"Yeah um," you start, feeling your heart start to patter in your chest when he takes a seat at the table by the cabinets, "You can just wait here. I'll let Carl know when he comes back."

"Okay," he smiles, "Thanks."

You nod again, heading into the employee bathroom to collect yourself for a moment -- seeing your reflection. You forgot you had rubbed your eyes, masacra smudged in black smears nearly down to your cheeks. "I look insane," you whisper in horror, "Oh my fucking god."

You cover your face for a moment, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment racking your chest. Definitely looking like the troll of the store, you silently scream into your palms, another dramatic whisper of, "I should just fucking kill myself."

Despite the humiliation, you know it's funny. This would happen to you. This hot guy would come in when your mascaras a mess and your hair is fucked up from the rain, when the weather is bad and your tights have a run, when your allergies are rampant from the dust. Of course he would!

You wet a paper towel and do your best to wipe off the smudges, happy to look a little less insane after a dab of tinted lip balm makes it onto your lips and cheeks.

When you re-emerge he's fiddling with his CD player and his over ear headphones, working on a knot in the wire. You go back over to the counter and take a sip of your forgotten latte.

"What do you drink?" he asks.

"Carl makes it special for me, it's not on the menu," you tell him over the black plastic top before taking another sip. He grins, a soft nod moving his hair with him -- so it's like that. "I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"It's a caramel latte with maple and cinnamon," you tell him. His confidence both intruiges and enrages you, both making you want to tell him to get out but also learn more about this hot guy that wants to be a barista with a Wall Street handshake, "So why do you wanna work here?"

"Is this the start of my interview?" he laughs.

"No, I'm just wondering," you shrug.

"I'm back in school about twenty minutes away," he says, "Did it for a little when I was in high school -- coffee, I mean. Ice cream shop after that, video store after that. Went to school, took a break, back in it. My dad thinks having jobs like this builds y'know -- character and whatever."

"Jobs like this?" you ask, jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Like, y'know, jobs with the people," he tries to explain, pink building on his cheeks when he realizes he might've said something shitty, "They're not like bad jobs, that's not what I mean -- I mean like, y'know -- not suits kind of jobs. Regular shit."

"Regular shit," you nod, biting back what you wanna say. That gold crest ring should've been enough to tip you off, but your next question is the ace in the hole, "What're you back in school for?"

"Getting my MBA."

Of course.

"Nice," you lie, fake smiling into your next sip -- the latte going cold as your insides when you come to the conclusion that he's just some hot grade A asshole, "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," he calls out while you make your way back to the floor, "I really like your name, by the way! It suits you."

You try not to let that compliment change your mind.

He gets the job, but you don't see him a lot. He opens an then goes to classes at night, you close most of the time -- only catching him really in the first hour of your shift and the last hour of his. You're both too busy to be finding time to talk; him with his mid-shift clean and you with your hourly sales goals and mid-day schedule re-adjustments.

But he does wave when you come in. He calls out your name when you bustle past the coffee counter and weave through the tables to get to where you need to go. It's nice of him, you guess, but the stain of him explaining that the job he's doing is just for regular people taints it for you. Maybe he thinks you're just some menial worker bee that he only knows for now, since his daddy probably has a job lined up for him once he pays through his masters degree.

Job with a suit where the bookstore will be a distant memory for him, whereas you're on a two year track to becoming the manager and likely future owner when the owners get too old to manage it. Job with a suit where he'll pass by the store and shake his head at 'how stupid it was', a 'can you believe people work there?' head toss to a coworker while he get a coffee somewhere else. Meanwhile, it's your entire life, and so are all the stories inside.

A few weeks pass and the days get a little colder, the nights starting earlier as they go. You have an opening shift that chills your bones, hugging your wool coat tight to your body while you fiddle with the key at the door, groaning at the tinkling of it hitting the concrete again.

"Rough morning?"

You look up to the door opening, seeing a pair clean white Nike Air Force 1's singaling who it is.

"It is now," you mumble, grabbing the key and bustling inside.

"Surprised to see you here," he says, following you to the back, "You're not on the schedule." "Last minute switch up, Rochelle has a christening," you say, hanging your coat in the cubby and switching out your sneakers for platfoms again.

"Oh, nice," he grins, "So why is it a rough morning? 'Cause I'm here?"

"Sorta kinda," you shrug, "Did you alread--"

"I got sales report from yesterday on the check out desk, yes," he crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"And th--"

"And the inventory report, and before you ask, yes I checked that all the milk is in stock and that we aren't low on beans. I've been here for a month, honey, I know what I'm doing," he mutters.

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

He shrugs with a smirk, "Rochelle likes it."

"Can you go skulk to your caffeine den and leave me alone?" you snap, "I'm trying to open a store, here."

"Skulk, huh?"

"Too big of a word for you, Harrington?"

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"I kinda like it," he adds before turning out of the door and back into the warm light of the store towards the coffee bar. You swallow while you watch him leave -- I kinda like it ringing in your ears and floating down to your chest where is settles in, cozy and kind.

The reports are where he said the would be, neat and organized like he was the manager and Carl was his employee. You normally spent at least thirty minutes trying to figure out what Carl had written in chicken scratch on the forms, but Steve's sharp and elegant script was easy to read and perfectly spaced. Annoying.

Even his signature was handsome.

After you get the registers counted and ready you file the forms and mark the reports so they'll be ready for your manager when they get back in store. You check the list of what needs to be done, the chilly late October air swooping in from the cracks under the door. Your face sours while you make your way over to the coffee bar in the back, seeing Steve set up the pastry delivery in the cases on the side.

"Did you come back here to yell at me about something?" he asks, focused on the task at hand, "I got all morning."

"You didn't turn the heat on," you cross your arms, "That's like, the first thing you're supposed to do."

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head, popping back up to lean on glass of the case, "Did you read your morning report or just sit there and admire my handwriting?"

"Excuse me?" you bite back.

"Heats fucked," he shrugs, ducking back down to finishing his display, "They're sending someone to take a look at it later today."

"Whatever," you grumble, turning on your heel to go dust the front shelving and reshelf the returns from yesterday.

"Hey," he calls out, waiting for you to turn around before he continues. Your eyes catch his amber ones, sparkling with a mischief reserved for school boys who are mean to the girls they like, "You look nice today."

You look him over, sucking in your cheeks to kill the smile growing on your lips. His navy sweater hugs a bit across his chest and shoulders, giving way to billow slightly over his midsection and arms. Kahki chinos cut just at his ankles so his sneakers don't even look stupid paired with the outfit, socks just the right height to look cool and not forced. Awful.

"Yeah, you too Harrington," you agree quietly before walking away; and while you killed the smile, he was able to catch that crease in your eyes, the twitch in your shoulders. You thought that was nice, he wonders if he can make you do that again.

You head over to the back of the cafe during your break, no windows near your designated 'break chair'. It's close enough to the fireplace that it always feels like a rainy day even when it's nice outside. Now that Carl started his shift he got your drink ready to go the moment you walked over.

"Well la-di-da," Steve cocks his head when Carl walks over to greet the customer at the register, rag in his hands wiping up the pick up counter, "Expert service and you're not even gonna tip?"

"Here's a tip: leave me alone when I'm on break," you bite. Why did he have to be so handsome? Slight pink on his cheeks from the heat of the espresso and coffee machines, the lights overhead. The heat finally works again and it's almost working too well from the small bead of sweat forming above his brow. He runs a big hand through his hair again, the same way he did when you first met him. You try to ingore the way his bicep bulges in his sleeve when his arm stretches.

His tongue runs over his teeth, settling between them for a second before looking straight at you, "Good one."

"That's what you get when you read books," you say sarcastically, "You should try it sometime."

"You should teach me," he leans over the counter, resting his chin on his palm, "Bet you're a great teacher."

You bite your tongue, pulling in your lips and squinting your eyes to keep the smile from brewing a second time. You pick up your mug and sip your latte while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing this time?" he asks, waiting for you second blow. You shake your head no, occupying your mouth with the rim.

"No?" He asks, you shake your head again, somehow glued to the spot under his stare. He slings the rag over his shoulder, still looking at you. "Well I don't wanna keep you standing here," he teases, offering you a wink that is so soul crushingly charming you could just die, "Enjoy your break."

You've never turned around so quickly in your entire life.

The following week you take another opening shift, happy to settle into the quiet of the cafe now that the morning rush of moms, dads, students, and aspiring writers have cleared out. The fire crackles just right, the leather warmed up to your body heat while the book sucks you in further an further. Thirty minutes pass when you hear a shift infront of you, the subtle squeak of leather being sat in with a soft crunch.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over the top of the spine to see Steve sat in the chair across from you, legs open wide while he leans his forearms on his knees. His long fingers slide together, gold ring shining in the light again to remind you of who he is and where he comes from. As handsome as he is today in his black henley and white t-shirt combo you'll never quite forget the fact that some MBA bro is perched in front of you like a puppy with nowhere to go.

"Sound out the cover, that should tell you," you boredly mumble before tucking back into the chair. His fingers peak over the spine, pushing the book down from the top. He pulls the leather chintz closer to yours with ease -- of course he does.

"Or you could tell me," he says with a softness you weren't ready to hear. Your chest gets warm again, creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

"It's Pride and Prejudice."

"S'that your favorite book or something?" he asks, elbow driving into his thigh so he can rest his chin on his fist.

"One of them," you shrug, "I always read it this time of year, kind of fits the mood of the season."

"Hm," he nods, like he's really listening, "What's it about?"

"Basically," you start, thinking of a way to describe it in two sentences or less, "It's like -- hm -- it's about two people, a love story. One guy is some super rich asshole and he's a jerk because the girl isn't as rich and him. And the girl isn't from the same social standing so she's a jerk because she already assumes that he's a super rich asshole. Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"What's your favorite book?" you ask, wanting to wipe that smug grin right off his face. His dumb handsome face with that perfect sloped nose, and eyes that look like they're looking directly into you.

"I don't have one," he shrugs.

"You have to have one," you balk, "Like, even if it's one you read in school or something." "Hmm," he sits back up, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting just under his chest.

"You have to know how to read to run a business," you shrug.

"I know how to read, honey," he laughs, "I just don't have a favorite book."

"At least try," you ecourage, albiet annoyed. He taps his fingers on his diaphragm, one knee bouncing while he thinks about it. His shirt rides up just a smidge in the back, revealing a sliver of skin you didn't think you'd ever see.

"Shel Silverstein," he says finally, "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"You didn't strike me as a poetry guy," you say, closing your book over your finger to hold your place.

"My mom went through this poetry phase -- and I'm my mother's son, so I had a poetry phase with her," he shrugs, "We wore that book out, think we had to get a second copy cause the first one was just like -- destroyed."

"Well that's...you know," you lean your head from side to side, "That's nice. It's cute."

"You'd know, right?" he smiles, that god damn smile Shel would write about in a new book. You'd bring back book burning just to throw it in the flames after it was published. He gets up, disappearing behind you for a moment and reappearing with your favorite green mug. He gingerly places it on the side table next to you.

"Compliments of the chef," he says, presenting it like a Michelin star meal.

You look at it, a perfect pour -- the cream rosetta leaf striking against the warm brown espresso. You can smell the caramel and maple already wafting off it, cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top.

"Um, thanks," you say quietly, taking the mug to your lips. He looks down at you eagerly when you take a sip, waiting for your reaction.

"Did you do something to it?" you ask before you take one.

"No I'm just -- damn, come on. I'm excited to see you try it," he sighs, "I worked hard on it."

"Fine, fine," you murmur, letting the latte flood onto your tongue. Its -- regrettably -- one of the best iterations of you've had in a while. The perfect creaminess without being too milky, enough caramel and maple without being too sweet, the espresso's bitterness cuts the sugar in just the right way to make it smooth. He knows he did it right by the way you go for a second sip without saying anything.

"I did good?" he quirks a brow.

"You did good," you nod.

"Good," he smiles, tapping the top of your chair, "'Cause Carl's putting it on the menu starting in November."

"How come?" you ask into your third sip, the steam billowing over your cheeks.

Steve lets his eyes flicker over your face slowly, offering a half shrug, "I told him to."

November brings the first pre-season snow, not that it mattered now that your favorite drink was a regular menu item now. Caramel and maple always in stock, espresso machine always on first thing in the morning.

You open twice a week now, seeing Steve more often than not. Dropping your key became less common now that he was normally at the door when you'd get there, ready to let you in.

"Another great day, right?" he'd tease.

Now that the holidays were in full swing the bookstore was busier than ever -- sales, bundles, events. You even started carrying children's coloring books and crayons in the kid's section; a whole set up just for kids to sit and color while their parent's browsed.

The stress was getting to you, constantly checking and rechecking the end of day sales versus last year, wanting to make sure everything was on a steady incline with a nice cushion for the next. It helped that the cafe seemed to be absolutely climbing in numbers since September. More and more people wanted to spend time over there, and the more time they spent the more time they looked at books or started reading. It wasn't shocking to see people checking out at the counter with a second coffee and a new book or two in hand.

You don't want it to be true, but you're sure the new barista had a play in what makes so many people stick around. You'd see the way Steve would flirt when he took orders, how he's listen to them intently, make every customer feel like they were the only person in the room.

At least that's how he'd make you feel when he caught your gaze from over the shelving, helping find books for new patrons from the college nearby. You both started to wave at each other at each passing glance, each look caught by surprise, each accidental yearning stare.

Mid-November greets you with a bitter chill, the very early morning doesn't even have the decency to greet with you the rising sun. It'll be atleast another half hour until then.

For the first time in a long time you don't drop the key, pushing into the store with ease. You waste no time turning the heat on, making sure the radiators bled a bit before hand. You rub your hands together while they settle in, putting your coat away in the cubby and switching out your shoes in the break room.

Opening on a Saturday morning isn't common for you, but it's the first event you've planned by yourself. A very simple read-along story telling with some kids from the neighborhood and their parents. You collected three solid winter time reads: The Mitten, The Snowy Day, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. A solid hour of reading while the parents could peruse, or sit and watch while their kids tuned into a book instead of cartoons on Nick Jr.

Once you've given yourself the onceover for the morning you feel more confident about the upcoming next few hours. Your knit tights fit snugly over your legs, a touch sheered out with the stretch over your thighs but the pleats in your plaid maroon skirt cover that just fine, hitting just above your knees -- still covered, still sensible. Still cute enough to snag a single dad if one were to show up.

Your feet stay tucked in a pair of worn in platform mary-janes stolen from your sister's New York City closet when you went to visit her over the summer. The chunky knit sweater over the whole ensemble completes you, a spitting image of a 'caught on the street' look you saw in a Seventeen magazine that you still get delivered to you despite being well past the age group.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

As you set up the 'reading rug' in the cafe area you hear the familar unlocking of the door. The sun finally starting to seep in in golden shards through the panes, leaving squares of light on the wood floors and carpets below.

"Hey Carl!" you call out, "I got everything up and running for you."

You hear the keys jingle but not his smoker's cough, not his heavy steps finding their way to the cafe area. Instead you look up to see Steve with his hands on his hips, watching you struggle to move the leather chintz to the back wall as your reading chair.

"Redecorating?" he asks, looking around the cafe. Under his shearling lined aviator jacket is an open hunter green flannel you wouldn't expect to see him in, his white t-shirt underneath hugs tights to his chest and stomach. You unfortunately noticed how great of a view that is for you.

"Um," you started, looking around the room and the dissaray you seem to have made without realizing, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason your here," he says, stepping forward to shoo you away from the chair, "I'm on the payroll."

"You don't work weekends," you say, crossing your arms over your chest while he lifts the chair over the rug with a soft grunt.

"I do today," he says with a slight strain, "Where do you want this?"

"Uh," you start, "Just right in the center against the wall so everyone can see me."

"Oh, so you're reading to the kids this morning?" he laughs to himself after putting the chair down. He wipes his hands off on each other, shrugging off the jacket and holding it in one arm, "Bitter Betty is gonna entertain the young minds of Main Street?"

"Bitter Betty, huh?" you challenge, following him into the back room, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he shakes his head.

"I am very sweet," you tell him, a serious edge to your voice, "There are so many customer reviews saying how sweet I am."

"Sure," he nods, putting his coat away in his cubby, "I bet there are; since y'know, you're selling them something."

"I'm not just nice when I'm selling something," you say softly, arms coming protectively across your chest. A frustration bubbles in your chest while you look at him, following him back out into the cafe so you can keep getting the place ready before the families start to show up, "You think you know everything."

"I don't," he shakes his head, smiling while he checks over the machines and gets the first pot of coffee started.

"Yeah, you do. You walked in here two months ago and swear you know everything," you huff, getting the cafe back to a place of organized coziness.

"Okay," he chuckles, "Whatever you say, boss."

"You're infuriating," you mumble under your breath.

"Got that caramel latte coming right up for you, by the way," he says warmly.

Your head turns to see him watching you, he smiles, "Maybe you're a little nicer after you've had a coffee."

You smile back, unable to stop it this time.

"So that's a yes, right?" he cocks his head, fingers drumming on the counter while he watches you. That Harringtom charm pumping out at full speed.

"Y-yeah," you nod, "Whatever. You gonna go chop down a tree, Harrington? What's with the flannel?"

He looks down at his shirt and then back up at you with a soft shake of his head, "I better hurry up and get that started for you."

The kids look up at you with starry eyes, their parents smiling along with their coffees, lattes, espressos, and pastries. The Mitten was a hit and The Snowy Day is so far showing up to be a great follow up.

You take your time to really point out the pictures and adding on to the story since all three of them are pretty short. However, you're finding that kids between two and five are pretty easy to entertain if you do enough counting and make enough sound effects. Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You're halfway through when you show the illustrations to the group again, listening to them ooh and ahh at all the snow.

"Did um -- Miss -- did you know -- it snowed? It snowed at my house," one of the older kids announces, arm straight up in the air.

"It snowed last week, Michael, that's right," his mom pipes up, "Daddy had to shovel outside."

"Has everyone else seen snow? Raise your hand if you've seen this much snow!" you announce in your perfect parentese, watching while the older kids and parents raise their hands. The two year olds don't really get it so they just sit there and laugh.

You look up at all the hands, an enthusiastic 'Wow!' coming out of your mouth -- but you barely hear it. Behind the hands are a set of warm amber eyes looking at you from the coffee bar, soft and gentle. Enthralled even. You swallow and lick your lips quickly before smiling, catching his smile back as you look back at the book to start again.

After each couple of pages you catch each other, the pink on his cheeks rising when he looks away -- pretending to be occupied with something else. Cleaning, organizing, resetting the espresso machine. He can tell you're flustered by the way you clear your throat whenever you start to read again.

After The Snowy Day you take a ten minute break so that the parents can take their kids to the bathroom or re-up their beverages. The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

You reset your chair, making sure the books you're reading are on display for purchasing on the shelving close by in your Winter Children's Bundle for a discounted price. As the ten minutes closes up you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Here," you turn around to Steve with a green mug in his hands, "It's just regular coffee this time, but -- figured you could use it."

You take it body first, reaching around for the handle only to feel his fingers brush against yours at the hand of. The soft touch isn't electric like it is in the books, it's like that but better. Warm like an oven, the gooey parts of you rising in a slow bake when you see him look down and turn away -- running that same hand through his hair on his way back to the counter.

"Thanks," you say over the chatter of parents and kids coming back to sit.

"Can I have something ready for you for your break?" he asks back.

"Surprise me," you shrug, sitting back on your chintz chair and taking the final book onto your lap. The kids cheer when they see Snoopy on the cover, a well loved favorite cartoon to finish off their morning. With the crack of the spine you can already smell the sales coming once this little event is over.

You work through your break, ringing up and helping customer after customer on easily one of the busiest Saturday's you've seen in a while. It normally doesn't get busy like this at least for another couple of weeks.

The stress of working through lunch barely matters though because your event was a bigger success than you could've hoped for -- logging in the notes for Rochelle that you should probably start doing this throughout the season just for good measure.

It's starting to get dark by the time your shift ends and the store closes -- early on Saturdays at a tight 4 PM. You let your sales girl go a little early, wanting to take the time to close up the store properly since you were the one who made it such a mess this morning. As you start to put the chairs back that had been moved from the cafe to the children's section you hear him, fingers tapping on the counter.

"You didn't come by for your break," he says, "And I put a lot of effort into that drink."

"Sorry, we can't all be flirting through our shifts like you can, Harrington," you snark with a grin, flipping the last chair over onto it's accompanied table.

"You don't have to clean up the coffee part of the store," he says, coming around with another mug in hand, "That's my job, y'know."

"I know," you say, "But I kind of fucked it up this morning so -- just doing my part."

"Well, here," he says, mug outstretched in his large hand, gold ring gleaming back at you, "For doing your part, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" you laugh lazily, taking it -- he places his fingers in a way that you have no choice but to touch them. You wonder if he did it on purpose, "What do you call this one?"

"'Surprise me'," he replies in a mocking drawl, flipping the rag over his shoulder again and leaning against the counter's edge. The first sip is unfortunately one of the most even temperatured hot drinks you've put past your lips.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"I am upset about it," you nod back over the lip of the mug, taking another sip. Mocha -- something. It's like hot chocolate and espresso but better, still caramel, still cinnamon, like a hug from your past but caffienated like your present.

"Consider me surprised," you nod, licking your lips again, "It's good -- it's um -- yeah. It's really good."

"Thanks," he smirks, "A few of the mom's thought so, too."

You let out a sigh through your teeth, rolling your eyes. He expected that, taking a step forward when your gaze comes back to center. You can smell the left over wraiths of his cologne and Old Spice deodorant, count the moles on his neck adorned with his hidden gold chain, see the hair on his forearms from his rolled up sleeves.

"You know something," he says quietly, "If I didn't know any better -- I'd think you like me."

"Like you?" you balk, eyes widening, "You wish."

He clicks his tongue when you get so defensive because it just proves him right. He crosses his arms with another step forward, head cocking to the side slightly while he sizes you up. Why did his creator need to make his forearms so beefy? So perfectly sculpted that you can't look at them without losing your train of thought? Stupid.

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

Your mouth falls open, staring at him with eyes as glassy at the kids who watched you read this morning.

"You -- no -- you read it?"

"Maybe," he says, another step forward, his arms bumping against your chest.

"Maybe?" you ask back, brow quirking.

"Yeah, maybe I did," he runs a hand through his hair, falling back away from his face to show off his sturdy brow bone, watching you with admiration down the slope of his nose.

He reaches down and takes the mug out of your hand with smooth finesse, arm long enough to reach back and place it on the counter behind him. When he leans back in place he's closer than before, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

"Maybe I bought it the day you told me about it," he shrugs, "Maybe I thought it was pretty close to something I had goin' on with a girl I know."

"A girl you know?" you challenge. You know exactly who he means, but it might be fun to hear him say it. "Yeah, sometimes I only see her like, an hour a day. But sometimes I get to watch her read on her break, sometimes I get to close with her on Saturdays," he explains warmly, the timbre of his voice deep against the crackling of the fire in the back corner of the cafe.

"This is the only Saturday you've closed with me," you counter, head tilting up slightly, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his.

"Who said I was talking about you, honey?" he murmurs back, mischief in his eyes that are half hidden by his eyelids. You feel a puff of his breath over your top lip, still minty fresh like he just brushed his teeth.

"We both know you're talking about me," you smirk, self satisfied while his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes. He steps at an angle, making you step back so you're against the pick up counter.

"So sure of yourself," he he scoffs quietly, leaning over you and getting into your space. Each hand coming to the side of you to lean on the granite, caging you in, "I like that in a pretty girl."

"Most do," you shrug matter of factly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Think that's what I like about you."

"Maybe that's what I like about you, too," you nearly whisper out.

"Maybe?" he asks, lower lip ghosting over yours. "Mayb--"

The hand he uses to run through his hair finds itself flat over the back of yours, sliding down to over your cheek and jaw where he keeps you angled just right. He closes the millimeters between you, warm lips catching yours in a kiss that feels like passion but a power play you want to match.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, heads moving in soft tilts when you change angles. When you find yourself sat on the edge of the counter he uses the leverage to pull you close to him, hips between the fullness of your thighs.

His tongue skates over yours when it slides into your mouth, free hand ridding up the soft material of your tights, tips of his fingers inching under the hem of your skirt in an innocent tease.

Even the way he breathes through it is sexy, leaving you with a lingering guess of what he can do when he presses his lips against your neck. Tongue flitting and striping while he nearly nips a bruise onto your skin. You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

He steps back once, the deep golden light of the sun setting cracks through the panes of the back window in the cafe, adoring him in a glow that shines of his hair and eyes. The kind of glow they write about, the kind of glow you read about.

You both take deep breaths, eyes hungry for each other -- unsure if you should go for more. He lingers, coming forward again to rest his hands on your thighs.

"I didn't read it," he confesses. "Pfffft. Why am I not surprised?" you huff, exasperated.

"But! But, but, but," he argues back, pecking you feverishly, "I had to go to like, five different places to find the movie from 1980 so -- I did actually put some effort into it."

"I love that one," you say back.

"I get points for that, right?" he asks expectantly.

"Yeah, fine. You're luck you're cute," you explain, "But you do definitely have to read it, at some point. If you wanna keep making out with me in the cafe after closing."

"Oh, absolutely," he grins, hand reaching to pull you in by the back of the neck for a final searing kiss, "You'll have to teach me, remember?"

You of course start closing together every single Saturday.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[eddiernunson]

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

| Master List | Prev Part | Next Part

Word Count: 16.9k

Chapter contains: Wedding shenanigans, smut, meeting Hawkins characters, smut, regular kinks, public sex, and lazy writing where i didn't even look up countries to travel to for honeymoons. Also...a haircut... (don't hate me)

I barely got this done in time, and it's also unedited. My editor says she can do it and we'll replace the rough copy lol.

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for always telling what they think and reading for it me first.

I just wanted to share some personal news. I'm 18 weeks pregnant, and I am always so fucking tired, so I apologize for posting a million things one week and nothing for months. The inspiration really comes and goes.

Anyways Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect your wedding to be so soon,” Skyler admits, in the middle of chewing on a salt and vinegar chip, some in her hand in queue to be chomped on next.

You keep your eyes on the movie playing snacking on a peanut M&M, watching Amanda Bynes’ truly unmatched comedic timing. “I am not spending a whole year of wedding planning,” you protest, throwing another chocolate into your mouth, “my mom is far too opinionated for me to be able to handle all of that fuss.”

“Well, you still need to find a dress…” Bethany points out, taking a hit off her vape pen. “And a caterer, someone to marry you, and a wedding photographer, decorate the venue—”

“We have invited close family and friends only.” You remind her, rolling her eyes. “If anything, the reception will turn into one big dance party. Hell, we’re ordering pizza. I don’t need a fairytale wedding. Having him has made my life a fairytale already.”

“Gross.” Skyler comments, sticking her tongue out at you playfully.

“I think it’s cute.” Bethany offers, grinning.

“Also, I might have already decided on a dress.” You hesitantly say, turning your head around and up at them to see their reactions. They collectively stop what they’re doing to scream at you for it. The gist of their uproar was mostly how they weren’t invited to the time you spent looking, but this dress was a happy accident by every definition.

“You found a dress?”

You shrug, pausing the movie so it’s not such a distraction for the conversation. “Yeah…”

The first time Eddie gave you his card and sent you to the mall for him, you were anxious about holding his money and only spent it on things he explicitly said he had wanted.  The entire trip took about an hour, getting home and holding a few bags as you entered the front door. Eddie leapt from the couch, grinning wickedly as he met you in the kitchen. He held your hands as he smirked at you. “How was the shopping trip?”

“Good.” You answered, moving to your purse on the counter to hand him his card.

He put it in his wallet hurriedly, wanting to get back to you. “What’d you get?” He asks, starting to look through the bags.

“I found everything you asked for except for the socks, apparently they’re discontinued.” You answered, leaning onto the island counter.

Eddie’s face falters only the littlest bit, shrugging. “Damn, gonna have to find a new favourite pair then.” He looked through every bag one by one, seemingly looking for something he couldn’t find. “What’d you get?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding what he meant. “Um, everything but the socks?”

Eddie’s face broke into laughter, hands snaking themselves around your waist. “Yes, baby, but what did you get for yourself?” His voice was so gentle, smiling at you fondly with a gorgeous lobsided smile on his face.

“Oh, um, nothing…” you answered, eyes flickering to the ground. “It’s your money.”

A hand made its way onto your cheek, intertwining his fingers in your hair. His lips landed on yours, taking your breath away with how dreamy and dizzy it made you feel. As he pulled apart, your knees were weak, mouth half open as you stared up at him in pure bewilderment. After you were able to catch your breath, you finally asked, “What was that about?”

He smiled at you tenderly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’re just so sweet, my love,” he muses, beautiful brown eyes roaming all over your face. “Sweetheart, you have a ring on your finger. If we’re about to get married, then my money is your money.”

A frown sat on your face, thinking over what he just told you, eyes fleeting all over his hardwood floor. “But…I don’t, I don’t want, I don’t want—”

He hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your chin to look up at him. “I know you don’t want it.” His other hooked around your back, pulling your body against his. “However, I do want to share it with you, just like I want to share everything else.”

You smiled at him, sighing as his hand caressed the swell of your cheek, leaning into it. “I just don’t want you to think I’m with you for any other reason than how much I love you.”

“And how hot you find me, hmm?” He teased, eyes half lidded.

You rolled your eyes playfully, hands petting the nape of his neck. “Of course.” Eddie gave you a big kiss, lips wrapping yours, making you feel only bliss. “So, if I take your card to Sephora and buy a palette I’d had my eye on, you wouldn’t protest?”

Eddie sighed, sticking his tongue out in his true fashion. “You could buy the whole damn store as long as you’re happy.”

You squinted at him, lips pursed as you assessed his gorgeous face. “…How much do you have in savings?”

He smiled, tilting his head playfully. “Enough.” He said, tilting his head and twisting his face comically. “Maybe not enough to buy the whole store, but enough to shop comfortably.”

With his blessing, you started to feel something like trophy wife on the occasional mall trip. Holding his black card as you swipe it unflinchingly at a large bill is so satisfactory as you see the glint of jealousy of the cashier’s eyes.

On your most recent outing, grabbing groceries and making stops at your favourite stores as you browsed, a little boutique in the corner of the mall caught your eye. You’ve never seen it before, a deserted area of the mall that has incredibly niche stores that mostly look like a storefront for a ring of some type. In the very corner is a sweet little boutique with hand made clothes, the kind of clothing one doesn’t come across very often anymore, all made with care with high quality fabric…but not at a designer price.

A dress with embroidered flowers around the skirt caught your eye in the window, and there were only cuter clothes. With several hangers of clothing on your hand, the corner the store comes into view, and the prettiest white dress you’ve ever seen came into view.

As soon as your size was in your grasp, you giddily ran off to the change room. As soon as the zipper is up, your eyes welled up in bridal glory.

All for 85 dollars. (Well, that’s not the whole bill, just the dress.)

Your eyes flicker back to your friends, shrugging. “It just happened.”

“How far is Hawkins, exactly?” Bethany asks, leaning on her elbow on her legs crossed.

“A few states away.” You answer, pressing play on the movie again.

“You’re only inviting close family, right?” Skyler asks.

“Yeah, and you guys and Steve’s family.”

Bethany tilts upside down on the couch, feet resting on the pillows as she watches the movie upside down. “I’m sorry, who’s Steve again?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you guys ever listen to what I say?” They shrug, looking at you expectantly. “He’s Eddie’s best friend.” Still, their looks are completely blank. “You remember the photo I showed you of Eddie? He was the one on the left.”

Their eyes both noticeably bug out of their sockets. “Oh, you lucky bitch.” Skyler chuckles, definitely remembering the one of the left.

You roll your eyes, again. “He’s happily married, you dicks.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it” Bethany accuses, knowing you too well, if you had anything to say about it.

The hesitation says everything. “Okay, maybe once or twice.” You admit, avoiding their eyes. “But again, he is happily married, and frankly unrealistic. Plus, he might be my sister’s father-in-law,” you joke, mostly hoping there’s no truth behind it.

 “Okay, this I gotta hear.” Bethany giggles, leaning in with much intrigue.

-

Hours later into the evening, your friends are taken off to their prospective life commitments. The living room is tidied up and the tv turned on to some background noise as you doom-scroll on your phone. Right on time, the front door to the house slams shut.

His hot breath and sweet kisses on your neck feels like home, titling your neck and humming happily as his arms wrap around your torso from behind the couch. “Hi, baby.”

“Hello, my love.” He greets. Your hand lands on his hair, petting his curls. “I gotta take a shower, then I’ll be right back.”

He bends your head on the back, giving you a deliciously upside down kiss. “Hurry fast.”

A usual shower for him doesn’t take too long, usually sporting sweats and a band tee as he comes back down the stairs twenty minutes later.

It’s only thirty minutes when your patience completely runs out, hopping up the stairs wondering if he fell asleep. He’s not in the room, or the bathroom, so you finally find him in the closet, squatting while he grabs something from one of the low storage shelves.

“Hey, Eddie—”

You forget the English language. Every word you’ve ever known is gone from your brain, nowhere to be seen. He uses his elbows to lean on his thighs, perched on his toes and smiles at your speechlessness.

“Surprised?” He asks, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You stare up at it, hand petting his scalp. “What did you do?”

He shrugs, spinning his hands in circles in his hair. “Needed a change.”

“That…that’s a big change.” You comment, noting the way his face looks without his hair framing it.

He grins, hand caressing your face sweetly. “What do you think?”

You wonder how you missed the razor with a hair clip on the counter. “I think we might have a problem…”

The panic in his eyes is subtle, but there. Clearly, he’s never had someone who loved him for him, and you’re excited to see his reaction. “Oh?” Eddie asks, doing his best to appear casual.

You smile, admiring the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck, even buzzed all the way to his scalp. “What the hell am I going to hold onto while you go down on me?” You ask, playfully scolding him.

He laughs, his face crumbling in relief. “We’ll figure it out, sweets.” He tugs you into his arms, arms gorgeously tough as he hugs you intensely. “Not the first time I’ve cut my hair, you know.” Eddie tells you, squatting back down to grab what he needed.

You’re honestly unsure if you’ve ever seen a picture of him with short hair, but then again, his social media doesn’t have many pictures of him. “Oh?”

Eddie grabs what he needed successfully, taking off into your shared bathroom. “Yeah, last time was when Dyl was like eight, or something.” Eddie answers, cleaning up the last strands of hair from the counter. How did you miss those?

“Needed a change, then, too?” You ask, now seeing where he placed his shed locks, the damn garbage.

Eddie tucks his lips in, tongue poking out between his lips. “Uh, not exactly.” He starts, hesitating. “Brooke sort of…demanded? I guess? That I cut my hair when long hair was apparently not really cool anymore.” He laughs, putting the razor away. “She wouldn’t let it go.”

Anger is useless, at this point, knowing that dumb bitch was just plain horrible to him. It still stings to know he had to deal with her, regardless. “She seems so lovely.”

Eddie laughs, taking your hand in his as he led you back out the bedroom and back down the stairs. “This time, at least I did it for myself.”

“I can’t lie,” you start, sitting nearly on his lap on the couch. “I will miss it, and our kids will be shocked when they see their dad had short hair in our wedding photos…but it’s hair. It grows back. I will always accept you for who you are, baby.”

Eddie doesn’t know which part to focus on more. He hopes you never fail to make him feel so loved, and honestly, he doubts you ever possibly could. But for the moment he focuses on the first part. “Our kids huh?” He asks as you lean back comfortably against his chest.

“Oh, hush, you know what I want from you.” You rebuke, smiling satisfied as you watch whatever is on TV.

His arm wrapped around you pulls you impossibly closer to him, still expecting the itch of his hair on your neck. “I know, my love. I want the same thing.”

“You get any calls for RSVPs, yet baby?” You ask, sighing happily.

“Steve called, everyone’ll be there, of course.” Eddie answers, grabbing the remote to switch channels.

“Oh, cool, I can’t wait to meet Jocelyn.” You say, still not having met his wife.

“I thought you’d be more excited to meet Eliza.”

“Oh, her, too.” You laugh, nodding. “She will be the cutest flower girl ever.”

Eddie kisses the top of your head, sighing happily as his cheek rests on it. “That, she will be.”

-

Eddie’s hands are intertwined with yours as he flies down the major highway, music blasting through his speakers as the wind sends your hair flying from the open windows. The prospect of flying versus driving to Hawkins was debated for a hot minute, but a long road trip with him was just too good to pass up. Several bags are in the back seat, packed for both the four days you’re spending in Hawkins, and the three weeks for the honeymoon.

He surprised you with a His and Hers matching set of bags, mouth quirked in a smile as he saw the embarrassment take over your face. He knew how excited you were to go take a trip to Cancun with him as newlyweds, and he did his best to make it clear the feeling is mutual.

But before you can take off on a flight with him, comes getting married.

Both your dress and his suit are in garment bags, something you’re all too thrilled for him to see, the prospect of him on the other side of the aisle filling you with a level anticipation you didn’t know was possible.

The trip is long, and you wonder how Steve was able to make it to your parents’ in such short notice, noting you’ll need to extend more gratitude to him. You had offered to drive, but Eddie had repeatedly denied you, insisting you’re his queen, and he planned on treating you like one.

What was that you had said earlier about living a fairy tale?

As you pulled into the small town, Eddie texts a few of his friends to let him know you had arrived safely. He pulls up to the one gas station in town, stretching his back out, walking into the convenient store to pay and take a leak.

When he comes back out of the station there’s an aura of amusement on his face, shaking his head. You meet him at the pump, eyebrow quirked to ask him what he was so smug about.

“He’s still alive.” Eddie chuckles as he puts the pump to start filling it up. He laughs again when your face twists into even more confusion. “Gus, the owner from when I was in high school, he’s still kickin’, and he’s still running the joint.” He pauses, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Probably out of pure spite, if anything.”

You kiss his cheek, petting at the curls now swirling in his hair. You still missed the length, but he looked good with short curls. “Wonder who else has surpassed those expectations.”

His eyes widen at the idea. “If Higgins is still principal…”

You smirk, having several stories about Higgins undeserved vendetta he held against Eddie, having once blackmailed him into dripping out. “God help the youth of Hawkins, Indiana.”

“I don’t blame Arlo for any of his sass in that case.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, a text from your mother that she, Viti, your dad, and her had successfully landed in Indianapolis and are currently grabbing their rental. Thank god your mom is acting like a mother again after her brief mental psychosis. 

For the first day in town, Eddie has a whole plan for you, refusing to tell you what he had planned. First, was the singular old folks’ home Hawkins hosted. The receptionist immediately recognizes Eddie, flickering to you with a twinkle in her eye. “Is this?” She asks, pointing to you covertly.

“Sure is.” He answers. “How is he?”

“Very excited.” She answers, placing a pen and paper on the counter in front of you. Eddie signs his name, and hands the pen for you to do the same. “Same room as always.”

Confused, you follow his lead down the hall the opposite way from the rec room where a group of elderly individuals were playing bingo. He’s petting your thumb with his, his eyes flickering between your eyes and the ground.

Is he nervous?

He finally stops at the door second to last on the left, labelled with the number 18. Three knocks on the door and there’s a gruff voice on the other side telling you to come on in. Eddie takes a deep breath and opens it, slowly walking into the room.

The door opens to an older, much older, man with a very thin patch of hair on his head facing the other direction, hands shuffling over a faded deck of cards, slowly categorizing them, supposedly a game of solitaire. Eddie lets go of your hand to approach him from behind, playfully humming, moving one of the cards over the old man’s shoulder. “There ya go.” Eddie says, gentle and smug.

“Christ, you always knew how to beat me.” He mutters, shaking his head. He lifts it to face Eddie, smiling ear to ear as he stands up slowly, relying on the table in front of him for stability. “Bout time you came back to town,” he jokes, tugging Eddie in for a hug.

You can see Eddie’s smile over his shoulder, observing the way Eddie relaxes in his hold. Eddie’s hands on his back are firm, gripping onto him for dear life. You’ve heard stories, only had an idea of how much his guardian meant to him, but from just the looks of this hug, it’s the kind of affection you suppose could only a parent could provide him.

Times like these you wished you knew him when he was younger, just to see more of these vulnerable moments.

Not that you want to cut their reunion short, but you need to get this introduction out of the way because it was the one you’re most nervous about. You clear your throat subtly, only to get their attention. Eddie’s eye’s abruptly open, meeting yours apologetically. “Sorry, sweets.” He says, pulling away from the hug. “Uh, Wayne this is—”

Wayne, the man who has picked up the slack from his deadbeat brother and runaway sister-in-law, turns to face you, smile on his face as he abruptly wraps you in his arms for a hug. “I don’t need an introduction to the woman who brought my son back to life.” He insists, squeezing you tight. You want to feel cocky about this statement, but all you can do is smile into his shoulder. It’s impossible that the affect you have on one another is the same, a lust for life you’ve never have before now ever present, looking forward to the future knowing that you’ll have him for as long as humanly possible.

It's just nice to hear from those who have known him his whole life.

Wayne finally lets you go, the smile lines ever present as he grins at you. “Well, I suppose you two still have a lot of work to do before Saturday, huh?”

You look at Eddie, shrugging in sync. The only thing there really is to do is set a few tables up for the reception and pick up some flowers from the local florist. A small wedding means little to do, especially with good friends in town insisting on helping tie the final pieces together.

“This one isn’t a bridezilla, is she?” Wayne jokes, winking at Eddie’s exasperated eyeroll.

“She could stand to be a bit more decisive, to be honest.” Eddie laughs, a lobsided smile.

To be fair, you just wanted to marry him, it really didn’t matter how the tables are laid out at the reception, or where you take the photos. He could’ve taken you to a courthouse and you would’ve been satisfied, but there is something so enticing about announcing to your close friends and family how much you love and plan to spend all your days with him.

Wayne and Eddie talk, Wayne telling the embarrassing stories you’ve been begging Steve to tell you, yet with no success. The pink blush on Eddie’s face is adorable, watching as he hopelessly protests the stories, but Wayne seems to be the only person out there who doesn’t get intimidated by Eddie’s stern voice. You wonder if the temptation to give the same energy next time you’re being berated by him will be too much to ignore.

Your favourite story that Wayne told you was the one where he was ten years old and attempted to mix his love of hard Metal and Dungeons and Dragons and turned on the song only to forget he had it turned all the way up the day before.

It resulted in snacks everywhere and one of his favourite figurines crashed as he stumbled across the room to try to turn his stereo down. Wayne even had some photos he keeps in a box on his dresser, handing one by one. The best set of photos were Eddie growing his hair, going from a kid with a buzz cut in the halls of a school displaying a rock signal to the camera to a jaded teenager refusing to smile for it.

Yeah, if you knew Eddie in high school you would’ve been down bad.

Eventually, Eddie stops protesting at the stories and just ends up defending the actions of a hormone-driven seventeen-year-old.

“You’re not expecting me to wear a suit, are you?” Wayne squints, leaning back onto the desk.

“Just wear something nice, will ya?” Eddie asks, an aura of affection for his lifelong guardian.

“Yeah, yeah.” Wayne dismisses him.

The nurse is sweet as you and Eddie sign out, Eddie requesting that they get him out of his room to socialize for once. She laughs, insisting that they do his best to get him out, but he is stubborn as he is old. Judging from his silver hair and the vibrant blue veins showing from his paper-thin skin, you can see where Eddie gets a lot of his personality from.

Eddie’s a silent sort of content as he drives down the main street, thumb caressing your hand with purpose and ease. He makes a turn, slowing at the end of the street at a sweet little yellow house. “Where you bringing us this time?”

“Still not telling.”

The front door opens to a woman with short curly hair, crossing her arms as soon as she sees who is on her front step. “Was wondering when you’d stop by.” She says, waving her hands to invite you in. “Come on in, Robin is over for the afternoon.”

“Hi, Wheeler.” Eddie greets her, tugging you in with him.

Oh, Nancy. You’ve heard little about her, only that her determination is scary.

“Yeah, come on in, you groomer.” Comes another voice, a little rough on the edges but said with love.

“Groomer?” Eddie asks, eyebrow tilting.

“You’re lucky that’s all I’m calling you.” Robin, sitting at a table with a cup of tea, playfully shoots back. “Marrying a girl half your age.”

“And like I’ve said on the phone, she’s been making as many of the decisions I have.” Eddie says, sounding tired. “Anyway, this is Robin, that’s Nancy.”

They toast their cups to you, observing how you and Eddie are with each other, his hand around your shoulders and your hand easily intertwined with his.

“They’re uh, they keep me in check.” Eddie laughs, gesturing to them.

“You cut your hair.” Nancy states, a smirk on her face. “Haven’t seen that in a few years.”

“Whatever, do you want to tell her or not?”

Turns out, Nancy and Robin been communicating and texting Bethany and Skyler for ideas on a bachelorette party for you. Your eyes are full of fear as you glance to them full of fear, scared of what they had planned.

Those eyes were a little too smug for comfort. “You haven’t told her anything about the uh… U.D, have you?” Robin asks softly as Nancy shows you a photo album as the friend group from years back. What a friend group to be in back in their heyday.

“Not quite yet.” Eddie shrugs, wondering how is it those faded memories can come back so quickly just because he’s in town.

“You ever plan to?”

“Probably. Won’t wait too long so she doesn’t think I’m senile.” Eddie jokes, but it falls flat.

“I think she can handle it.” Robin admits, now having spent a few hours with you. “Maybe skip the part where your heart stopped.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Probably.”

-

Eddie has made several more stops throughout the day, introducing the many colourful characters that flooded his hometown. Felt like right out of a storybook.

The one you most got along with turned out to be Dustin Henderson, the very same one who Steve’s third son is named after. Just from your first conversation surrounded by their goofiness, do you truly understand how dorky, how dramatic he really is. Dustin does have stories to tell you, less embarrassing, more dripped in his dramatic flair for life.

Dustin checks on the habits he still carries, does he still fidget with his fingers, does he tuck in his lips, has his patience gotten better.

Correction, Dustin is one other person you suppose Eddie can’t intimidate. You’ve seen many attempts only met with laughter. “Steve has a bachelor party planned for you, you know.”

You shoot Dustin a glare, charging on him. “There won’t be any strippers, right?”

Eddie’s laughter abruptly stops when you shoot a glare at him, giving you a meek smile. You fucking thought so.

“Don’t worry, Harrington has a death wish, but not that badly. It’s a meticulously planned out campaign.” Dustin chuckles elbowing you. “A few drinking games involved, but no models in bikinis.”

Suddenly Eddie’s in your ear, breath sending shivers down your body. “If you were to show up in a bikini, I wouldn’t protest.” Eddie whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Tempting, but I think I’ll wait until Cancun.” You answer, grinning cheekily at his widened eyes.

Eddie gets a text that night when you’re in the hotel room with him where the reception was to take place. Most of the wedding was completely figured out, the two of you are ready for a night in before the rush sets in for tomorrow, cuddled up under the blanket as he reluctantly watches one of your favourite romcoms.

His hand pets on your bare thigh, slowly making its way up, smirking at the way you tense under his touch, whimpering as you impatiently wait for him to finally touch you. His fingers finally, finally brushing under your panties and just seeing how wet you are when Eddie’s phone vibrates on the bed. “Don’t you dare.” You protest, clutching in his shirt.

“You’re not in any position to be making demands.” He chuckles, sliding to answer his phone.

You huff, head banging against the head rest.

“Make it fast, Harrington.” Eddie answers. You start to pay more attentive attention to the movie when his hand slips back under your panties. His finger moves easily along your folds, slowly working you. Eddie mutes his phone, “Be fucking quiet, got it?” You nod, forcefully taking a pillow and biting down on it. “Sorry, bud, what was that?”

Eddie listens, face crumbling in annoyance. “And we don’t get any say in this?” He asks, inserting his finger bast the barrier of your entrance. “Yeah, we’ll be an hour.”

Eddie hooks his finger, eyes raking down your body as your back arches in attempt to keep quiet.

“Because you caught us in the middle of something, Stevie.” He laughs starting to speed up. Something Steve says tugs a beautiful sound of laughter from his lips, hanging up and tossing the phone. “Take your panties off, we have an hour.”

You throw the pillow across the room, grinning as you take your panties and the shirt you’re wearing off.

When he slides into you, perfect and relentless, the words he whispers in your ear are how he can’t wait to marry you, how much he wants to see his girl in a pretty white dress just for him, and what a pretty girl he has.

The only words that leave your throat are about how much you love him, on repeat. I love you, I love you, I love you, Iloveyou.

Stubbornly, Steve demanded two of you made your way over as soon as possible. Eddie agrees, but really wishes he could stay with you when he sees the blissed-out expression you wear in the afterglow. Damn him.

You reluctantly go with him, half asleep as your head rests his shoulders when Steve finally opens the door. “Finally, you sluts!” Steve laughs, hand in his front pocket as he opens the door with the gusto only Steve Harrington really can. “Jesus Christ, warn a guy next time you get a haircut.”

You glare at him, rolling your eyes. “If we came all this way just for this, then I will see you tomorrow, Steve.”

“She has a point.” Eddie agrees, also ready to go back to the room and forget you were asked.

“Chill out you two.” Steve insists, “c’mon.”

Well, Steve is one hell of a schemer, because as soon as you reach the living room everyone (and then some) jumps out from their hiding places, a big ass surprise party.

Like the two of you weren’t already having a big party in two days, but this is a large reminder of how loved you are.

This thankfully gave you a chance to mingle with the rest of the Harringtons, Eliza regretfully already asleep upstairs. Immediately, you see the connection between Nicky and Dylan and how much they get along far more than Dylan ever did with Arlo.

Arlo and Viti are mingling a little too close for comfort, her back leaning against the counter as his hand is placed right next to her, nodding as what ever she says is apparently agreeable. Whatever Arlo is planning, he’d better stop that shit.

Jocelyn Harrington is the perfect ying to Steve’s yang, perfectly balancing out his chaotic personality and keeping him in check only the way she can. You ask her to keep an eye out for Arlo, something she promises that she’s tried to do many times in the past, in fact, this his him tamed.

You finally learn who you’ve hired to take the wedding photos, a boy you’ve only spoken to over the phone from Steve’s recommendation. He’s…Nancy’s, ex’s, son, Jeremy Byers, who has apparently picked up his dad’s hobby in photography and, like his father, turned it into something that can pay the bills. His dad is freakishly just like him, sweet and unassuming. What is it with genes in this town? Everyone just copies and pastes.

Somehow, Steve managed to get your parents to show up, somehow finally warming up to Eddie. Still, she’s on thin ice for ever having insulted him to begin with. Apparently, Nancy does remember your mom, having been on the newspaper with her.

Your mom was on the newspaper?

The night is spent laughing in Steve’s massive living room, the air filled with anticipation and pure excitement, actually glad you were forced out of bed. The doorbell rings, opening to face your two best friends as they squeal and wrap you in a hug and everything is right in the world.

Maybe your mom could stop flirting with Steve, though.

-

Finally, you stumbled into the Hotel room at 3am, giggling together as he falls on the bed on top of you. His hand snakes his way under your skirt, tugging them down fast, the sound of him undoing his belt driving you crazy as you giddily and hurriedly help him with his shirt. He’s been teasing you all night, his lush lips wrapping yours and wandering hands making you want to pull him into one of the bathrooms.

The pure want in you right now when you know you’re about to make Eddie your husband is coursing through your body is excessive. There’s a looming question, will you be able to hold back during your wedding? Answer is a definite no, but you’re trying to trick yourself into believing that you will.

His bare skin against yours as he ruts against you is everything, yet even after every orgasm you want more, crave more of him more than you ever thought was possible. You’re extra greedy that night, holding him closer, begging him for more, more, more. His words are a sweet mixture of worship, praise, and just a little bit of degradation. My girl, my sweet love, taking me so well, your sweet cunt, greedy little slut.

You fall asleep with your legs wrapped around his waist, sleepily exchanging sweet nothings in one another’s ear, the rest of the world dissolved completely.

The vibrations of your phone don’t wake you up, but it certainly alerts you to the following vibrations of Eddie’s. The phones didn’t even make it to your chargers, sitting in the mess of clothing on the carpeted hotel floor. Eddie’s body is partially on yours, wrapped in his musk as you stretch, taking in the reflection of the sun on the roof. “Eddie.” You moan, stretching your limbs as you attempt to reach off the king-sized bed. “Phone.”

Another phone is buzzing, somebody clearly relentless in their effort to get a hold of you. Eddie hums, head twisting only the littlest bit in your neck. “Too…too bad.” You slowly crawl out of his hold, rolling towards the scattered pile of clothing. Just when you think you’re successful, Eddie’s strong bicep effortlessly pulls you back, tightening his grip on you. “Stay.”

The sound erupts again. “You don’t think that could be important?” You ask, finger gently trailing along the skin of his back.

His shoulders shrug, lips starting to trail kisses along your neck. “Don’t care.” He mumbles, hands moving across your skin. You can feel his enthusiasm against your leg, tugging him down against you. “Waking up to your beautiful face, gorgeous fucking body, you think I care about anything else?”

When he puts it like that, you suppose you really can’t say no to him, especially when his voice is luring you in like so. You hum, starting to see his point as the buzzing fades into the background. “Then get to it, will ya?” You ask him, hands intertwined in his short curls. As he pushes himself up on his hands, his eyes meet yours, grinning cheekily.

“Get to it, you say?” He asks, hands tugging on your hips your body meets his perfectly. “Somehow last night still left me unsatisfied.” He pushes into you slowly, not giving you any warning or bothering to prep you. As assumed, the slick from last night remains ever present along your folds, allowing Eddie to push in effortlessly. Your mouth opens wordlessly, meeting his eyes and drinking in the pure lust in them. “This pussy baby, you’re telling me I get this for the rest of my life? Am I that lucky?”

As always, he’s crazy to believe he’s the lucky one. “Whenever you want, Ed,” you tell him, fingers clawing up his back and mewling. “Faster, please, please, baby.”

“Pretty voice beggin for me.” Eddie mutters, still granting the wish. “Think your pussy can take more of daddy’s cum?” He asks, hands intertwined in your hair and thrusting harshly. “Thought I already filled it a bit last night.”

“Never enough, Ed.” You gasp, pulling his lips on yours. They’re lush and sweet, but the kiss turns dirty as his hands press harshly and fiercely. “Can never…never get enough.”

Eddie chuckles, curling himself into your neck. “You keep saying shit like this to me and I will never let you leave this room.” His hands slide themselves down to your wrists, sitting up as he pulls your arms down your torso. This position hits a new angle, the pleasure hitting a deeper spot than you knew possible.

“Who said I want to leave?” You laugh, his grip on your wrists tight enough to bruise.

Your legs wrangle themselves against his chest, feet flexing next to Eddie’s face, watching his half open mouth and gorgeous face. “Just what I wanted to hear, sweets.”

His hips are beautifully relentless, eventually turning you around in his grasp, your face hitting the pillow as his hips start impossibly faster. His hand grips itself in your hair, pulling your back against his chest, snaking from your hair back around your neck. “Listen to those sounds you make, love, so desperate for me.”

“What a pretty girl, taking my cock so fucking well.” His other hand clings itself onto your clit, circling it as his hot breaths gasp against your neck. “Feel that sweet pussy dripping all over me, you close, babygirl?”

“So close, Daddy.” You whine, neck stretching impossibly high as the pull in your stomach is strong and intense. His fingers move faster, driving you towards that high more and more. “Oh, my god, Ed.”

Your pussy flutters around him, eyes twitching shut and whining in his hold as his hips never let up. As you just start to come down from it, there’s a loud knock on the door. You fall forward, whining as Eddie doesn’t let up. The knock comes again, faster and louder this time. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind them, and frankly, neither do you, listening to him as his groans grow deeper and longer, reaching backward frantically for his hands. “Gonna fill you up, love.”

The knocks are now rapid, never ending and stubborn.

“One fucking minute!” Eddie yells, voice harsh and aggravated.

Now the voice that’s been shouting is clear who it is, Steve apparently having no patience as he shouts in anger.

You feel him rut a final time, bending over you as he gasps desperately into your ear. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Hurry up, I’ve been calling you guys for an hour!” He yells, you can practically hear his hands placed on his hips.

“You want me to open the door naked?” Eddie asks, grabbing the pair of pants he tossed onto the ground last night.

“Is that a threat, or a promise?” Steve asks, a hint amusement in his voice.

Eddie opens the door, rolling his eyes as he leads him in. You lie under the covers, not caring about the lack of clothing you wear. “What?”

“Oh lord.” Steve grunts once he sees your relaxed posture on the bed, scrolling through your phone.

“I’m sorry, did you not know what you were walking in on? Your ears have mysteriously vanished from your head?” You ask, a half smirk placed on your face at his hand exaggeratedly hiding you with his hand.

“I at least figured you’d have clothes on,” Steve grumbles back, crossing his arms. “I’ve been calling you two for the last hour, we have shit to do before the parties tonight.”

“Parties?” Eddie asks, slipping his shirt on.

“Yes, parties. Hurry, you two.” Steve demands, clapping his hands repeatedly. You stare up at him blankly, still half paying attention to the videos on your phone. “Well?”

You blink at him, stunned. Wasn’t this wedding supposed to be easy? “Get out!” Point angrily to the door of the room.

“I want you two in the lobby in five minutes. We got shit to do.” Steve demands, letting the hotel door slam behind him.

You glance to your fiancé, leaning on your elbow cheekily. “Wanna fuck me again?”

To be honest, Eddie’s jeans were back around his ankles before you even finished the sentence.

-

The feeling of shamelessness as the elevator opens to the lobby fifteen minutes later is refreshing, sporting kiss bruised lips and tussled hair as you cheekily greet him.

Steve looks tired, sitting in a chair in the lobby scrolling through his phone leaning on one elbow. “I should’ve known way better.”

Admittedly, Steve was right. Despite the size of your wedding there was still a stupid amount to do before the Wedding takes place the next day. If it weren’t for him, you’d probably would’ve stayed in bed all day until the realization kicks in. Maybe being as much in love with Eddie as you are is both your saving grace and your downfall.

Steve acts like a wedding planner. You thought your mom is bad, turns out she’s got nothing on Steve Harrington with a goal and a vision.

Flowers picked up, hair stylist and makeup artist booked, the church confirmed, all the t’s crossed and the I’s dotted.

When you’re sitting with Eddie and Steve on the living room couch at the early evening, Jocelyn opens the door, walking in with her daughter running in like a little tornado, her little curls bouncing with every step. Her voice is to the brim with giggles, running up to Steve with glee.

“Daddy!” She yells, hopping into his arms as he catches her effortlessly. Eliza is somehow even cuter in person than she is in any photo you’ve ever seen of her.

Steve hugs her tightly, petting her back like the gentle parent he is. “You see who’s here, yet, Liz?” He asks, nodding towards Eddie and you.

Eliza abruptly leaves his hold, switching her bright green eyes to Eddie. “Uncle Eddie?” She jumps straight for him, forcing the one arm behind you to wrap around her.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He greets, your eyes meeting his over her shoulder. Seeing him talk about her animatedly is one thing, but watching him melt as soon as she’s in his grasp sets your ovaries on fire. “Are you excited to be a flower girl for us?”

Her eyes flicker to yours, shyly smiling, as if remembering there was someone for her uncle Eddie to get married to. “That’s the lady?”

He laughs, hearts in his eyes never leaving as he glances over. “Yep.”

Eliza looks back to him ‘whispering’ in his ear, “She’s pretty.”

Eddie chuckles and places his hand by her ear, pretending to whisper back, “I know, it’s why I’m marrying her.”

The glare you want to give him is drowned out by the warmth that floods your entire body. “You two sharing secrets over there?” You squint your eye, pretending to be suspicious of them.

Eliza giggles, hiding in her hands. “No!”

“Then why are you whispering?” You demand, leaning in.

“We’re not!” Eliza giggles, kicking her feet as she tumbles off the couch.

“If you’re lying, I think a monster is going to come chase you,” you warn her, shaking your head exasperatedly.

Her eyes go bug wide, scared only as a four-year-old can be of a monster coming after her. “N-no, we weren’t whispering!”

You nod at her, smirking at Eddie, hoping it gets the point across. “Uh, oh, Eliza, I see a monster!”

Eddie catches on, dramatically crouching as he bares his teeth and pretends to growl. As soon as she hears it, she squeals, little footsteps taking off into the next room. You watch him run after her, suddenly completely forgetting that it wasn’t his idea to begin with.

How the hell have you just managed to fall for him even harder, you’ll never know. Maybe you want more than one with him.

You sit back comfortably on your chair, feeling completely relaxed from the sounds of their footsteps and giggles alone. Your head feels heavy falling over and suddenly facing Steve’s eyes already dead set on you. You’re startled out of your daze, head perking up quickly and hurriedly. “What?” Steve’s eyes flash up and down, making you feel a tad self conscious. “What?”

“What was that?” Steve asks, nodding towards where Eddie and Eliza are still running around, making loops around the house.

You shrug. “Just playing with your four year old?”

Steve tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. “When you two have kids, I think the world needs to watch out.”

“Kids?” You ask exasperated. “Who said anything about that?”

“You did. And him. And I know you’ve at least talked about it.” Steve answers, unwavering conviction in his voice. You’re speechless, playing with your nails as you avoid his eyes. “Mmmhmm, that’s what I thought.”

Once Eliza is put to sleep, you’re comfortably on Eddie’s lap as a knock on the door echoes through the house. Jocelyn gives a smirk as she opens the door, and a parade of shouts bursts through the door. The group of men that burst through it are all loud and jeering, their smiles too wide as their hands grab at the man beneath you, picking him up by any body part they can grab. He’s promptly lifted over their heads, all of them ignoring his shouts in protest and threats to dismember them if they don’t let go of him.

Not that you’re mad at Steve for throwing Eddie’s bachelor party onto him, just the opposite. A warning that the next time you’d be seeing him was at the altar would’ve been nice, though. You heard him shouting from the basement, a mixture of glee and anger. Steve gets up from the couch, making his way towards the door to the stairs.

You rush before he goes, blocking the way to the stairs. “Take care of him, won’t you?”

“I promise no lap dances from any of the strippers,” he vows, his face smirking at the glare that lands. “I’m kidding! It’s just drunk D&D, no strippers involved, I promise!”

You hit him on his shoulder, just a little done with his bullshit. “Better not be.”

“I mean if he starts stripping when we get to the tequila, I make no promises on stopping him.”

You stop Jocelyn who is just passing by. “You sure they’re over each other?”

She shrugs, knowing exactly what you mean from 25 years of dealing with the two of them. “Jury’s out on that one, I’m afraid,” she winks, petting Steve’s confused face.

“Make sure he gets there tomorrow on time,” you nod, patting his arm condescendingly.  

“Right, a church in St. Louisville, right?” He asks. You hit him again, harsher. “Oh my god, sometimes you are so easy to piss off.”

You shoot one last glare. “For the moment, I think I have the right to be, you know? Sort of need him there on the other side of that aisle.”

“He’ll be there, he might be a bit hungover, but he’ll be there.”

“Alright. Now go downstairs, Harrington.” Steve startles you by tugging you into a hug, taking a moment in stunned silence before returning it. “Make sure he has fun.”

You sit down on the couch, listening to the crowd of men cheer as Steve finally gets to the bottom of the steps. Your head just hits the pillow on the couch when Jocelyn’s elbows land next to your hair, wearing a smirk you swear you’ve seen on Arlo before.

“Oh, you think you’re in the clear?” She asks, assessing the look on your face. “Come on in, ladies!”

Somehow when Eddie was picked up, you completely missed how there was a whole different group who followed in, sneaking their way into the kitchen. Now the very same ladies who organized the bachelorette party rushed in, grabbing your hands up from the couch as they all squeal in glee. You didn’t know where to look or what to say, surrounded by doting hands, both friends of yours and Eddie’s alike.

“Here,” no one in particular passes you a pretty dress, something you didn’t even pack for yourself. “Put this on, we’re going on a night out!”

“In Hawkins?” You ask, aware of the single dive bar that Eddie spent his nights working at.

They all let out a chorus of “no”, all explaining simultaneously that they rented a party bus and you’ll be travelling to the closest city that has one more than only one bar.

A tight dress, makeup that only other’s hands have put on you and a bit of pregaming, strobe lights are bumping and the bass is loud in while you’re surrounded by all of the hens. You’re extra surprised Nancy and Robin have also joined in on the fun, Robin’s voice scratchy in the speakers as she sings into the karaoke microphone. Your little sister is extra giddy that she was invited to join, too deep with number the drinks she’s already had.  

You’re just glad she’s not with Arlo for the night.

To catch your breath about halfway into the trip you sit down, everyone following your lead with beads of sweat on their foreheads. The music is turned down eventually, all eyes on you.

“So, are you excited?” Skyler asks, poking your hip right next to you.

You nod shyly, a big smile taking over your face. “Of course!”

“Okay, so I just have to know, what’s the craziest thing you guys have ever done?” Bethany abruptly asks on the other side of you.

Your face twists into confusion, giving every pair of eyes staring at you exactly what was going on in your brain; what the hell is she talking about? “Crazy?” You ask, question her, wondering what they could possibly mean. “We really aren’t all that crazy.”

“Oh, come on.” Viti interrupts, crossing her arms as she sits on the seat directly across from you. “You know exactly what she’s talking about.” She wiggles her eyebrows, smirking.

“I happen to know his nickname the Freak is not just a name…” Nancy laughs. “If rumours from High School are anything to go by.”

Your jaw drops, laughing to compensate for the discomfort. “Why do you all want to know so badly?”

“Please.” Skyler protests, leaning forward on her elbow. “The way he looks at you? There is no possible way you guys don’t have crazy, or at least crazy good sex. Spill the beans.”

You ask for a shot glass, downing it straight away. Not that you want to entertain it, but just to protest, you’re gonna need to be a lot less sober than you are right now. “Assuming you are even close to being right,” you start, asking for another shot, “why the hell would I tell you guys?”

“Because our curiosity is peaked.” Viti explains, unwavering in the intense eye contact with you. “Spill.”

“Fine.” You give in, barely holding the laughter that bubbles out from your mouth at their joyful expressions. “Seems you guys are desperate to know, so I will tell you one little adventure. Just one.”

The music is turned down into a low melody, acting as a background when you tell the story of hooking up with him in the dressing room after just moving in with him. Their expressions are slack jawed, all on the edge of their seats as you describe the want and the adrenaline that rushes through you as your face is pushed up against the dressing room wall.

You end the story, laughing with the crowd at the circumstance in which you ended up meeting Steve Harrington. The bus stops, pulling up to the first bar for the evening. You get up easily, ignoring the way all eyes stare at you in bewilderment. “Well, you coming, or what? It is my bachelorette party!”

Robin is the first one to get up, laughter leaving her lips as she follows behind you. “C’mon, if we get her drunk enough, I’m sure that’s not the only story she’ll tell us!”

You wish you could answer the question of how you successfully made your way back into the bed of your hotel room, waking up next to the warm body that is your fiancé. The headache is splitting, waking up to the alarm on your phone that rings loud and clear. “Oh fuck.” You wince, checking the time. Luckily you still have time until your appointments, glad you opted for a later ceremony.

You go for the carry on that rests on top of your bags, knowing it holds extra strength pain killer. You take two, this hangover the worst you’ve ever felt. You refresh yourself in the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water and brushing your teeth.

You stumble back into the main room, greeted by Eddie sat up on the bed with a charmed look on his face. “How you doin,’” he asks, seeming to know more than he let on.

“My head hurts,” you whine, crawling into bed and wriggling your way in his arms.

“With how drunk you were last night, sweets, I bet it does,” he laughs, remembering the way he was barely unable understand the slurred words that came from your mouth. “You were so sweet, my love, and a very sloppy kisser, might I add.”

You hide your face in his chest in embarrassment, the feeling getting worse as you hear his deep chuckles. “What did you see?”

Eddie is in his hotel room by 1:30, the night wrapped up early after too many rounds of shots and a rush of nostalgia from even some of the original Hellfire members joining in on the fun. They weren’t going to the wedding, but they had more than enough fun in making fun of him.

At 3:00, a few light knocks interrupt his late-night rerun. He was already yawning, his age setting in, but still waiting up for you. Through the peep hole, he sees your two best friends holding you by the arms, your eyes half open as your head sways. “Jesus,” he mumbles, rushing to unlock the chain and door lock. He opens the door with wide eyes, facing his fiancée who is giggling and hanging off her two best friends.

“Oh, thank God.” Skyler mutters, praising when Eddie opened the door. “Here, take your wife.”

You stumble forward into his arms, giggling madly when your face sees his. “You’re pretty.”

“Hi, sweets,” Eddie greets you, struggling to hold you up as your legs wriggle under him. “Have fun?”

You nod, wide smile on your face. “Kiss me.” Eddie is overtaken by how much tongue you give to him, hands hurriedly grabbing at the shirt he’s wearing, attempting to take it off and assumingly forgetting about the audience you held in the hallway.

“Whoa, whoa, baby.” He unpeels your hands and stops them, pushing them down. “I think you’re a little too drunk for that, go lie down, I’ll be right there, yeah?”

You nod, slowly staggering towards the bed, landing in a starfish position right in the middle. “So, uh, thought you said you wouldn’t get her too drunk?”

If he wasn’t so concerned for your liver, he’d laugh at the way your friends’ eyes bug out of their skulls. “We tried, we really did, girl was a runaway with a credit card.”

“You didn’t think to take her card away?”

Bethany squeaks, happy for her friend, but never wanting to be on the other side of his protectiveness again. “Oh, we tried. Also, she told us some stories.”

Eddie is afraid he already knows what she means by stories. “Stories?”

“Mmmhmm. We went from begging for one to not being able to shut her up.” Skyler explains, smiling meekly at the end of her sentence.

“Remind me not to send her out on a girls’ night with you two, anymore.” Eddie sighs, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t need her having liver failure by the time she hits thirty.”

“I mean, it was probably the excitement and all…” Bethany tries to mend but gives up at Eddie’s glare. “We’ll pick her up at 9 for the hair appointment?”

“You do that.” Eddie scrunches his face. “Thanks for getting her back safe, but I am seriously concerned for your lack of self-preservation. Goodnight.”

He doesn’t let them respond, closing the door and locking up for emphasis.

He slowly helps you take the dress that fits you extremely well off, assisting you into a pair of pyjamas. When he tucks you in under the blankets, you grab onto his shirt, yanking him in for a kiss. “Want you.”

Eddie doesn’t need any elaboration, feeling the way your hips sloppily grinded up towards him. “I know, baby, but you are way too drunk.”

“Pretty please?” You ask, your voice and face desperate in your want.

He sighs, petting your face gently. “I can make you cum, if that would help my baby?”

You nod, mewling in agreement.

“Okay, just to help you fall asleep, yeah?” You nod again as his fingers slide their way into your soaked panties, working them as he watches you fall apart easily under him.

It took you less than a minute to cum, he didn’t even slide one in. Damn. He was actually looking forward to dipping in your wet heat. You thank him repeatedly, yawning as you turn over and fall asleep in seconds.

He then had a hard on to get rid of, somehow turned on at how even when your mind is foggy all you can do is want him.

He fell asleep with you clinging onto him like a koala bear.

Eddie switches his glance back to you, smirking at the worried expression you wear on your face. “That even when you’re incredibly inebriated, you still just want me.” He chuckles, kissing your forehead. “But, I did want to request that you don’t destroy your liver, I was very concerned for you.”

You peer up at him, taken aback by how much his eyes convey the same message. “Okay.” You plant a clean, sober kiss on his lips, humming when his hands pet your hair. “Only because I never want to wake up not knowing what I did ever again.”

Eddie laughs, wondering what those CCTV cameras must’ve looked like. “Hey, princess?”

“Hmm?”

“Guess what?”

You lie on his chest, petting the patchy hair there. “What?”

“We’re getting married today.”

You can’t help it, grinning madly at this sentence and the pride in his voice. Holy shit, you’re getting married today.

Only ten more minutes of pure bliss, sharing sweet kisses and exchanging words of excitement do you get before the cavalry arrives, both your bridesmaids and Eddie’s groomsmen storming the room together.

He kisses you fiercely as he’s shooed out the hotel room, not able to get enough in before he sees you in that dress. “Love you!”

The door is shut, but you shout it back anyway, suddenly the excitement and the joy of your day settling in.

Holy shit, you’re marrying Eddie Munson, today.  

-

Since you called almost one month ago, the only hair salon in town has been booked for you and your bridesmaids until noon. The stylist is full of questions about how you met, how long you’ve been together, what he does for work, all things you’re more than happy to explain. You didn’t ask for much, only curls that braided into a crown at the base of your head, but you didn’t want to risk spending hours on it.

She leans in as soon as your hair is done, reaching your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror. “Correct me if I’m wrong, you’re the one marrying Eddie Munson, right?”

Your eyes bug, biting your lip. “Mmhm,” you confirm, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap.

“Don’t worry, small town things.” She laughs, taking the cape off you. “Your makeup artist just got here, I’ll let her take care of you in this seat.”

You thank her graciously, appreciating the companionship and conversation she provided, despite the nerves really starting to set in.

Thanks to a string of emails shared between you and the makeup artist, she has a great idea of exactly what you’re wanting, a natural look with the smallest hint of smoke. You find yourself having déjà vu when she asks the same questions, naming the groom to boot. The repetition is oddly comforting, you’d even call it soothing.

“Alright just a finishing touch, and you are all…done!” She hands you a hand mirror, and you couldn’t have done it better if you tried.

No. Seriously. You’ve tried.

Your bridesmaids all get their make up done, too, the group sitting in a circle as they talk absolute nonsense. “Dude, you’re the chilliest bride ever, we don’t have to wear matching dresses and you paid for our hair and make up? To think Skyler thought you were gonna be a bridezilla!”

You quirk your eyebrow at Skyler, who was in the middle of getting her make up done. For free. “Sky?”

“Hey, you were the one who always wanted the fairytale wedding,” Skyler rebuttals, raising her hands up in surrender.

“I said that like, a year ago!” You protest, a little defensive.

Skyler laughs, loud enough to stop all the other conversations in the salon. “Babe, you said that the week before you met your groom!”

Your eyes roll, a little embarrassed from being called out. “Yeah, okay, so before I met someone, I’m willing to give up a fairytale wedding for?”

“I mean he would’ve given you one,” your sister peeps out, having been quiet this entire time. “Pretty sure you didn’t need to give it up.”

“You have any idea how long those weddings take to plan?” You ask crossing your arms in your seat. “I was not going to wait that long.”

“Down, girl.” Bethany laughs, the rest of the salon following suit.

As soon as the stupidly massive bill is paid with a card that bares a name you’ll soon share, you’re brought back to the hotel room.

All you asked from your bridesmaids that they dress in something that makes them feel comfortable, but not something they’d wear to a night out.

As soon as they’re all dressed, they surround you in a circle of love as they help you get into your dress. Not that it requires them to help you out, but the sentiment is certainly there. Just when you thought you looked great in the dress when you initially tried it on, it’s nothing with everything tied together. God forbid someone call you out for being weepy, but you couldn’t help it even if you tried.

“You ready, Miss. Bride?” Bethany, your maid of honour asks, petting your hair as she meets your eyes in the mirror.

“Nope.” You answer, without a lick of hesitation. “Yet at the same time, I have never been more ready.”

“Usually I would harp on you for being cheesy, but that was actually really touching,” Skyler admits. You promise to yourself you wouldn’t hold the mist in her eyes against her, (no matter how hard she makes it.)

Your heel lands on the pavement of the cement, getting out of the car Bethany and Skyler took to the church. In the entrance hall of the church you meet your parents and the groomsmen, Eddie tucked away so he can’t see him, or rather, he can’t see you.

As the groomsmen pair up with the bridesmaids, (Bethany blushing as her arms are wrapped around Steve’s), your dad’s hand lands on your shoulder, kind eyes behind his round classes peering at you. “You, ok, there?”

“I’m so nervous.”

He takes these words in, nodding in consideration. “What exactly are you nervous about?”

A rush of emotion takes over you, resisting the urge to glance down the aisle to where you know Eddie’s about to start making his way down any moment now. “How badly I want this.”

“Nothing else?” You nod your head, no reluctance in it. “Well, then all you have to do is start down that aisle.”

The music you picked, a cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love, starts at 3’clock on the dot, much to the way your heart flutters.

Steve approaches you, arm around Bethany’s. “I helped Eddie sneak through, he didn’t see a single thing, and he’s already on the opposite side of the aisle waiting for you.” You nod, your eyes apparently bug wide. “Breathe. If it helps, he’s been a wreck all day.”

That helps. That helps more than he knows. “Really?”

“It was kind of annoying, honestly.” Steve answers, face twisted up. “Well, we’re about to miss our cue in the song, see you there.”

“Uh huh,” you answer, warm under the kiss he plants on your cheek.

Arm in arm with Dylan, Skyler winks at you as she soon follows.

Did your sister really have to walk the aisle with Arlo?

Your dad’s arm hooks in yours, patting your hand comfortingly. “It’s time.”

But I can’t help…falling in love with you.

There’s only about 30 or so people in the pews, but even as they all stand with their eyes on you, you’re glad there’s so few. However as soon as your eyes meet his chocolate ones on the other end, you forget all the nerves, all the anxiety, all the worry.

First, your mouth curls into an involuntary smile. Not by any means of sadness, does your smile fade and turn to tears. A laugh bubbles from your chest, the mixture of tears and laughter confusing you. Maybe it has something to do with the tears that also reflect in his eyes, and the way you can’t look away from him, but you could swear there’s only the two of you in the church.

The two of you in the world, really.

There’s a squeeze on your arm, your dad reminding you he’s with you every step on the way, but your eyes are glued in place. The closer you get to him, the wider his smile grows, yours growing as a direct answer. A tear escapes, and escape in the sense that you’ve done your best to hold them back, mouthing I love you to him.

If he didn’t have as much pride as he does, you know he’d be just as weepy as you are.

Finally, you reach the end of the aisle. “I’m proud of you,” your dad whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Now, go get married.”

You finally exchange a smile with him, quickly embracing his hug. “Thanks, dad.”

You step up to the altar, eyes raking over the sea, or pond, of people in the pews. Eliza sits with her mom in the front seat, excitedly waving to a couple that only has eyes for one another.

Finally, your hands extend to hold his, switching back to face him. Oh, just when you thought he looked handsome, it turns out he gets impossibly more so when wearing a suit. A gorgeous, black suit, accentuating his slim hips and his hair loosely gelled down.

His eyes rake over you, eyes unable to stay in one place on you. “You look beautiful.” Eddie whispers, voice deep and breathless.

You sigh, another tear leaving your eye. “Unfairly handsome.”

“You been crying?” He asks, holding your face to wipe them away.

Your lean your head into his hand, closing your eyes in sweet relief. “You’ve been, too,” you sigh, noting the single tear streaked down his face.

The person you’ve chosen to marry you has no true significance, and Steve had initially suggested he do it, but who cared. However, the pastor has known Eddie since he was a teenager, more than happy to marry him to you.

His words fade into the background, a few verses about love and anecdote or two about it in his speech. Truthfully, nothing matters but his eyes on yours and the way his gaze makes you feel. 

A chorus of laughter echoes through the church, catching your attention, finally. “Seems we you got back again.” When you both look at him confused, he chuckles deeply. “We understand you’ve written your own vows?” You look at one another, but there’s no hint of any shame. “Eddie, you may go first.”

“I wish that I know how much that one shower would change my life,” Eddie starts, his thumb rubbing over your fingers.  “I got in, stressing about the shop, then I got downstairs, and I loved you from the moment I saw you.” Oh, fuck. “I have to be honest, I know you keep saying you’re lucky, but I really am the lucky one that you saw anything in this old schmuck. Everyday I have done nothing but the best to feel deserving of your love, to make sure you aren’t taken for granted.”

The tears that stream down your face are uncontrollable. “Sometimes I don’t think I have any right to feel any right to feel as protective or possessive over you as I am, until you surprise me by saying something that puts words in my mouth, the same ones I’d have been thinking all that time. To love this much and to be loved the same in return is a miracle that I will never take advantage of, my love. You will never feel taken advantage of, never worry about money or shelter, and never worry about my loyalty to you.

“I love you. I will never be ashamed of it, I will never ask more of you than you can give. You have already given me everything you have, whether I deserve it or not, and I will give you the same, every time. To be honest, I have marvelled over what to say to you, staring at a blank page. All I can say is that you will never doubt my love for you. Ever.”

God, your makeup must be completely ruined by now from the tears and the snot. Halfway through Bethany came in clutch, offering tissues from her brassiere. Your ears could’ve been tricking you, but you swear up and down there are sniffles echoing from the audience.

“Now that we all had a chance to collect our selves, our beautiful bride, your turn.” You nod, blinking in surprise when you notice there’s a wetness in his eyes, as well.

“That’s gonna be hard to follow,” you laugh, the witnesses laughing with you. “Eddie. My love. To say it is a miracle that I love you this much and you love me just as much is an understatement. It’s not just a miracle, it’s a dream come true. A dream I never knew I had. That day also started differently for me, in ways I still regret to this day,” you say, looking behind him to where Dylan stands. “You come downstairs with your wet hair and, well, you, and it is true more than I could describe that I did fall in love with you in that moment, too.” His tears aren’t as messy as yours was, but Steve comes in clutch with a tissue as well.

“Every day I’m with you, all other fears seem to fade and disappear. Nothing else matters, I can truly get through everything with you by my side. It’s no lie that I am outrageously attracted to you, but I don’t think anyone could blame me for it.” He laughs at this, rolling his eyes in dismissal. “It’s the only part of my attraction though, I will deny anyone that could even dare to insinuate otherwise. Until I met you, I never knew I could feel this loved, this happy or satisfied by anyone’s mere existence, alone.

With you, I am happy. Even when I’m not. With you, I am both protected and taken care of. The way you protect me, I will do the same. The way you take care of me, I will do the same. Your sweet selflessness will never be taken advantage of, in any such way. From the moment I saw you, Edward Munson, I knew. I will love you for the rest of my life.”

“Jesus Christ.” It wouldn’t have been too alien to guess that it was Eddie who said it, but the very sniffles and exclamation came from behind him, Steve using his suit jacket to wipe a tear away.

“You okay, bud?” Eddie asks, also using his tissue.

“Just marry the girl, already.”

“Well, we do have some papers to sign.” The pastor escorts you to where your legal papers sit, names written for everything except the date and final signitures.

Steve signs, followed by Bethany, both sporting shiny eyes. She winks her green eyes at you, handing you the pen. When you sign yours, Eddie places a kiss on your neck, sweet and gentle. When he signs his, your fingers cling to the silk material of his jacket.

“Well, I think you two have seemed to wait long enough. I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss your bride.” Eddie doesn’t even bother waiting until the end of the sentence to grab your face and plant a kiss on your lips, knocking the air out from your lungs from the love that surrounds you. He doesn’t care about his audience, barely takes note of the applause that breaks out, kissing you in a way that you normally wouldn’t dare in front of your parents on a good day.

Who fucking cares, you’re announcing your love to the world, they’ll get over it.

The flashes of Jeremy Byer’s camera is in your face as you walk down the aisle of the church together, hand in hand with him, fingers nearly losing feeling in your fingers as he grips onto you tightly.

When you stop in the church corridor, all that can be felt is a sense of celebration. You did it. All you need to do now, is party. “Oh my god, finally.”

He chuckles, wrapping you in his arms. “Can I tell you something, love?” You nod, inhaling his sweet cologne. “The moment I saw you in this pretty dress I got rock hard.”

You lick your lips, eyeing him up and down. “You don’t think your words made me absolutely drenched, Ed?”

“Fuck.” Eddie mutters, kissing you sweetly again.

There wasn’t a moment to escape for a few hours, whisked off to an area surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery to take pictures, surrounded by the wedding party. On the phone, all you communicated is that you needed someone to take pictures of the wedding party for portraits as well as individual shots of you and Eddie, and Jeremy was a complete gem.

As soon as the portraits are over, every portrait where you look in his eyes not feeling a hint of cheesiness or falsehood, you are to head back to the hotel conference room for a reception.

Traditional receptions usually hold a first dance, speeches, embarrassing moments, cake cutting ceremonies, etc. To be completely honest you don’t trust your best friend or his to make speeches that won’t embarrass the two of you completely. And rather than sit for dull speeches, you told Eddie all you wanted was to celebrate with him and a DJ playing all the songs the two of you love, the wild combination it is.

You told your dad you would dance with him for the song that would’ve been your father-daughter dance, but nearly no traditions kept up for the reception.

The hotel offered a few plates of entrees for your guests before the DJ announces you two as a married couple something you accepted with a small external deposit. Steve oversaw ordering 20 pizzas in varying flavours, the very thing you’ll be doing instead of cake or dinner.

You hold your new husband’s hand in excitement as the DJ announces your arrival, the first announcement of Mr. and Mrs. Munson to some dad-rock song that he personally requested.

Well, the only thing you really splurged on for the reception was the open bar.

You pet the curls at Eddie’s neck, swaying together to the first slow song that the DJ played. Your lips are already kiss-bruised from your long day spent kissing him, but it doesn’t possibly prevent you kissing him any more, every single one he gives you somehow making you dizzier than last.

“Baby.” He grunts, getting your attention. He nods behind you, gesturing to the left. You turn you head to face Arlo and Viti, her eyes shining bright as she stares up at him, dancing even slower than you were.

“I’m gonna have to accept that, aren’t I?” You say, noting the special way her face is cradled by his hand and the way she leans into it.

“Looks like it, sweets.” Eddie says, his eyes still on you when you look back to him.

You sigh, wrapping your hands around his neck. “Hey, I gotta get going, I’m getting exhausted.” You look over to face Wayne, grinning in his plaid and slacks.

“Of course, thanks for coming.” Eddie says, giving him a hug. “So glad you could meet her.”

“Are you kidding, Ed? With those vows? Next time I see you, you better warn me before you make me cry like that.” Wayne laughs winking. “I’m glad you two found each other.”

“Love you, Wayne.” You say, grabbing him in for a big hug. “It was so nice to meet you.”

Wayne hugs him, too, gripping onto him tightly. “Thanks for the open bar, you two.”

The way you surround yourself with your friends and family, dancing up and down as the music bumps, the lights down with strobe lights flashing. In the middle of it, Eddie starts kissing your neck hands roaming and making you feel everything.

Eddie tugs on your hand as he leads you to a crowded hallway, a dead end with nowhere to go to. Your back collides with the wall as he kisses you, feverously and deliciously hungry for you as you are for him. “Oh, sweet love, do you know how crazy you make me in that pretty dress?” His hands hurriedly make their way under the skirt of your dress, ruffling it up as he presses himself against you. “I have been mercilessly hard since the moment you started coming down that aisle, baby.”

“You gonna fuck me in the hallway, Eddie?” You ask, breathless, “Can’t hold back that badly?”

“From the moment I first kissed you, I haven’t been able to hold back from you, love. You think I can hold back when you drive me as crazy as you do?” His kisses trail down your neck, nibbling and simultaneously inhaling your scent. “My wife, my gorgeous, lovely, beautiful, bride.”

You gasp, head tilted up as he effortlessly lifts you by your hands lifting under your thighs. “Need your cock, Ed.”

“Yeah, you need me to fuck you ruthlessly, my love?”

You nod hands shaky as you attempt to undo his dress pants. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie yanks your panties down your thighs, marveling at the lacy fabric. “Fuck, I need that sweet, tight, pussy.”

Before you knew it, Eddie was lining himself up with your entrance. “Fuck, hurry up, before someone comes for looking for us.”

“You think I care if someone walks in on me fucking my wife?” Eddie asks, and his question sounds genuine. “I couldn’t care less if someone walks in on us, at least they could get a good show, we could give ‘em someone to be jealous of, yeah?”

Hopelessly, you feel impossibly more turned on by his dirty perfect words.  “Then give me your big cock, Ed. Please.”

Eddie pushes into you, filling you completely. “Oh, there’s that cock drunk face I’ve been wanting to see.”

“Eddie, cock, so big!”

He doesn’t waste a second bucking into you, harsh and ruthlessly perfect. “Somehow your pussy gets better every time I fuck you, sweets. How tight you are, how perfect, oh, if I didn’t love it so much I would say it needs to be illegal.”

“The only thing that should be illegal, Ed, is how good you are with words.” Eddie laughs, hot breath down your neck. “God, you make me so happy…”

“Can’t wait to see you big and pregnant, sweets.” Eddie sighs, repeatedly bucking into you. “Wanna fill you with my babies.”

“Want your babies.” You gasp.

“Where the hell did they go?” Down the hall, you hear someone but it doesn’t occur that it even needs to matter. “God, need to put a bell on those two—oh my god!”

Your head turns to the noise, seeing your best friend standing in the hall with her eyes covered by her hands. “Either stay and enjoy the show,” Eddie stops to gasp, “or take off back to the hall.”

“I-I’m so sorry…I’ll see you in the dancing room,”

You giggle, tugging him in for a big kiss. “Sweet girl.” He laughs, starting to fuck you even harder.

“Cum in me, please, Eddie.” You beg, nails digging into the hair on his neck. “Wanna be filled with you.”

“I am going to keep you good and full on the honeymoon, my good whore,” Eddie mutters and you can feel him start to fall apart. “Gonna fuck you everywhere I can, put on a good show for everyone.”

You tighten around him, turned more than ever by his words. “I love you, Mr. Munson.”

He smiles, colliding his forehead against yours. “I love you, more, Mrs. Munson.”

You don’t know what it is about your new name, but it’s what gets the both of you off, Eddie’s cum filling you up deliciously.

Bethany avoids your eye as soon as you get into the room, and you’re sure she’ll get over it, not like you haven’t heard her and her ex-boyfriend many times.

“Hey, heard you traumatized your maid of honour.” Steve laughs, clutching a slice of pizza in one hand, and a drink of whiskey in the other.

You yank the piece, suddenly aware of how little you’ve eaten. “I thought she’d know better to walk in on us by now.” You laugh, taking a large bite.

Steve checks his watch, the very same hand you just yoinked the pizza from. “Doesn’t your flight take off in about the next three-ish hours?”

Eddie checks his, gulping in answer. “Oh, shit.” You check it with him, having a flight out that same night. “Should we get going, love?”

You nod, placing your head in the crook of his shoulder. “Let’s get going.”

Everyone applauds as you walk out in a sweet white dress, ready to take off to Cancun with your husband, walking down the lane surrounded by love.

Everyone gives you a hug, wishing you well on your long honeymoon.

“Don’t expect to hear from us!” You call, getting in the car that Eddie ordered.

-

The heat from sun is beautiful, sandals flopping in sync as you walk from the taxi that brought you to the hotel. “Jesus, Eddie.” You mutter, looking at your extravagant surroundings. “You did not need to spend this much on the hotel.”

“Well, get used to being spoiled, baby girl.” He mutters, leading you to the check in desk.

The check in attendant smiles sweetly, covertly putting one side of her hair behind one of her ears. She speaks with a thick Mexican accent, giving her best customer service smile. “Hi, checking in?”

“Yes, under the name Munson, please.” Eddie says, wrapping his arm around you.

“Oh, the honeymoon suite!” She exclaims, her smile brightening. “Well, to start, congratulations on your nuptials, and every request is completely fulfilled, no problem. As asked, we will not disturb your room unless absolutely necessary, and we have already booked the spa for your wife.”

“Spa?” You ask, eyebrow tilting towards him. “I love the sound of that.”

“Knew you would.”

“And you have a dinner reservation tonight at 7. Any questions, feel free to call the front desk, any time of the day,” she says, handing the card with the room number.

The floor level with your room only has a few rooms. Eddie taps his card on the door to open it, opening to a room with a damn kitchen suite and a separate room for the bed. “What the hell did you spend?” You ask him, mouth gapping open as your bags slip out of your bags.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, love.” Eddie walks to you, hands caressing your face as he pulls you in for a kiss. “C’mon, we have king bed I want to take advantage of.”

“What was that about no interruptions?” You ask him, petting his curls.

“You think we’re leaving this room for the next six hours?” he asks, lightly pushing you towards the double doors that open to the bedroom.

His words make you literally insane, wanting him more than you ever have. “W-what?”

“Baby, I am going to absolutely ravish you for so long you won’t even remember your own name.” He claims, already pulling the zipper down your back. “But you will remember your new last one.”

Your back is laid on the bed, Eddie pulling your panties down, biting on the second pair of lacey lingerie you wear for him in less than 24 hours. “Sweet girl, look how soaked you are for me.”

“Need you.” You grunt, anticipating Eddie finally tasting you from the feel of his hot breath on your pussy, sending shivers down your spine as Eddie places your legs over his shoulders.

Eddie kisses you, nose nuzzling in your intoxicating scent, his hilted nose hitting right up against your clit. “Fuck, are you wet, baby.”

“Can you blame me, I just married the hottest man alive!” You moan, heels pulling him in.

“My wife is the prettiest, and I will be spending my life making sure everyone around me knows how smoking hot you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meal to eat.”

Your hands fly into his short curls, lying restlessly as Eddie devours you. Your first orgasm takes over your body, invading every sense with mind numbing pleasure.

By the third one invades your body, everything is too much, feels too good, “Fuck! Eddie I can’t, I can’t!”

“You can, my girl, of course you can. Remember what I said about making you forget your name? I haven’t quite gotten there, yet.” He laughs, thumb circling your clit.

By the fifth orgasm you eventually learn that not even begging will stop him if he can help it. “You got a safe word, use it.”

His fingers hook in your warmth, driving you to another one, to which this point you’ve lost count. You swear you’re speaking to him, but in all truth, it is all incoherent. You’re trying to tell him how much you love him, and how good he makes you feel, but Eddie can’t make a single word out of it.

“What’s your name, hmm?” Eddie asks, spitting on your pussy dirtily.

You tell him, gasping for air.

“I see, still not enough yet.”

It takes 11 orgasms to finally drive you to the point where tears are falling from your eyes, both in happiness and straight pleasure. Eddie’s face is straight up soaked in you, the slick drenching his face like a beard. “Alright, beautiful wife, what’s your name?”

Your head lifts up, loopy at the idea that you even had a name to begin with. All that comes out is desperate gasps.

“There we go.” He mutters, crawling up your body. “Think you can handle my cock, or do you think you’re done, baby.”

Your hand reaches out for him, tugging him by his holiday shirt. You can’t communicate, all words left your brain, but you do know you still want his cock.

“Of course, I will still fuck my good girl.” Eddie answers, wiping the tears that fell down your face away.

You’re limp as he fucks into you, hands gripping your hips ruthlessly. All he can do is mutter how much he loves you, and how good of a girl you just were for him, and he could watch you fall apart all day, especially after marrying you.

He fills you up again, arms wrapping from behind you as you fell straight asleep, still muttering sweet nothings and wishes of his love.

-

The first thing that happens when you wake up, is your knees collapse from under you when you try to get up to use the bathroom.

After the mind numbing pleasure he just gave you, you suppose it only made sense. As you brush your teeth, he walks up behind you, his naked torso against your bare back as he kisses your neck gently. “Feel good?”

You laugh, almost choking on the toothpaste in your mouth. “Yes, baby.” You nod, spitting it into the sink. “It’s not past 7, is it?”

He turns you around to face him, giving you a sweet look of love. “Nope. Actually it’s in about an hour. Get ready, sweet stuff.”

“Actually, one minute.” You giggle, grabbing him by the hand before he can leave the bathroom.

“Hmm?” He asks, face questioning.

“Just need to do one thing…” You couldn’t help it, knowing he spent the better part of two hours just going down on you before you napped together. You get on your knees.

“What—oh, oh! Oh, fuck.”

After being bent over the sink in the bathroom, Eddie and you make your way into the front of the restaurant.

The host leads the way, sitting you in a corner of the dining room.

Eddie orders you a sweet cocktail and him a bourbon, eyeing you over the menu.

You returned the favour, making him cum twice before he finally begged to just fuck you.

The dinner is filled with your hopes and dreams, things you’ve been too worried to tell one another, scared of coming across too much.

Eddie wants to raise three kids with you. You agree, confessing how hard you fell for him after seeing him chase Eliza. He doesn’t plan on moving, but might if you asked him to.

You’re only working because you’re scared of relying on him, or making him feel like a bank. He doesn’t care, you can work or not, it’s completely up to you. Sometimes you worry about him being afraid to tell you when he is feeling too achy, joints too sore, or is not ready for something. Truly, honestly, Eddie is more worried about you thinking he’s too old for you.

It was never a worry to begin with, despite the 22-year age gap.

If you could stop asking yourself how it’s possible to keep falling for someone harder, you would.

When Eddie takes the dress you wear off, he’s whispering sweet promises, somehow even sweeter than the vows he told you.

It was two more rounds before you fell asleep in his arms once more.

-

Camille works her front desk, filling in some paperwork and starting her opening shift duties. “Hi Linda!” She says, greeting one of the maids who has been working there 15+ years. “Morning, Linda! Any updates?”

Linda leans in, as she always does when she has hot gossip. “Were you the one that checked in that newly wed couple yesterday?”

“Uh, Munsons on the eighth floor?” She asks, remembering the way he touched her ass so brazenly in front of her. “Yeah, I remember them.”

“Well every maid has heard them over the last 24 hours, they are relentless with one another.”

Camille resists from laughing, eyes bugging out of her head. “Like…?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.” She looks both ways before leaning in again.

“And trust me when I say they are loud.”

“Well, I guess I know why they didn’t want to be interrupted,” She laughs, barely holding back in laughter.

-

The hot sand lies underneath your towel, one foot bent, the other extended as your sunglasses barely shade you from the sun. One ear pod is in your ear, the other in Eddie’s, listening to a sweet mixture of both your music taste.

Eddie lies almost directly next to you, body in direct touch with yours. You’ve been there for barely an hour, sun cascading down on you. “Hey sweet thing,” Eddie starts, turning towards you, leaning on his elbow.

You take the earpiece out, lifting your head to look at your smoking hot husband. “Hmm?”

“C’mon, we’re going for a swim.” Eddie says, holding your hand out for your earpiece. “C’mon.”

You hand it to him, letting the dress you wear over your bathing suit fall off your body. “It’s unfair how hot you are.” He says, eyes appreciating you blatantly.

One of the only things you’ve kept from your relationship with your now stepson, (still weird), is the bathing suit you wore when you met Eddie. You made sure he didn’t see it until this moment, and it was worth the wait. Even as you run straight to the water, you’re utterly aware of how Eddie is chasing you, giggles invading the otherwise quiet beach as you splash into the water.

As you swim together, you can see the sweat that beads on his skin from the hot sun. You can’t help but splash him, enjoying every moment with him in the eerily blue water. “You like my swimsuit?”

He grabs you so your legs easily wrap around his waist, lips meeting the salt on his skin from the sweat. “Shut up, you knew exactly what you were doing, baby.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

He laughs, arms pulling you in tightly, so you feel the boner in his trunks. “You don’t think I don’t remember what you were wearing when I first met you, sweets?” One hand slips to your bikini bottom sliding it over. “Those pink strings stayed etched in my mind for days.”

One finger slides in, Eddie watching your reaction carefully. “Been thinking of ways to make you fall apart on a public beach ever since, and this is just one of them.”  He feels you tighten up around him in response, a smile slowly creeping on the face. “Making you cum in the water, no one will be the wiser if you keep quiet.”

You gulp, placing your head in the crook of his neck. “Oh, fuck, daddy.”

“I know you love to be watched, hmm, my little minx?”

You nod, barely holding in any of the gasps that leave your throat. “Love people to see you like this, I just know you do.”

“Gonna make you cum, then we’re gonna fuck hidden away from the rest of them, yeah?” You nod, nails digging into his shoulder.

The feeling takes over you, withering in his arms as you try to stay quiet. The sloshing of the water around the two of you certainly doesn’t help, however. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, if I didn’t know water sex actually feels terrible, I’d have put it in by now.” Eddie muses, still grinding his tent against your cunt, still uncovered.

Eddie eventually finds a little secluded area sort of by the water, yet somewhere people might still be able to cross accidentally. His cock his perfect as it hits the spot repeatedly, and he doesn’t even give up after the first time he fills you up. “Listen to you whine for me like a little slut.” He moans, untying the strings on your neck to reveal your tits. “I bet everyone on that beach can hear you.”

At this point you didn’t even care. “Let them listen.”

He laughs, sighing into your neck. “Whatever you say, pretty girl. Just keep taking this cock, let the chips fall where they may.”

-

It’s a miracle your stuff wasn’t stolen off the beach.

Eddie sends you to the spa, demanding you get everything and anything that tickled your fancy. When asked why he didn’t want to follow you, he gives the vaguest explanation in the world, and unfortunately he’s stubborn enough to wait until you give in.

So, a full body massage, a pedicure, sitting in a mud bath just because you can, and you come back to the hotel room feeling more pampered than you knew was possible. “Hey, Ed—” You stop short as soon as the red flower petals that lead you to the bedroom come into sight. “What--?”

All you can do is follow the giggles that radiate from the room.

The double doors open to him, sitting next to a table with a supper on it. “How you feelin, sweets?”

“Pampered.” You answer honestly, your feet twisting nervously.

“Good.” Eddie answers, picking up a dress you knew he had bought in light of being the only one to ever see you wear it. It’s…revealing…to say the least. “Put that on, then come sit down with me.” As his eyes rake down your body, lucky isn’t even close to how you’re feeling. “Man, I’m good.”

“What’s all this for?”

“Do I need a reason to spoil you?”

You laugh, sitting when he pulls the chair out for you. “No, I’m just—”

“I get it.” Eddie offers, sitting across the small table. “It feels a bit much, to me, too. But man, I need you to know how much I love you, sometimes or I will melt.”

Do I even need to tell you how the evening ended? I’ll give you a hint; love bites that cover your neck, passed your breast, and trailing all the way to your pussy.

-

“Since when do you dance, anyway?” You ask him after he tells you the purpose of your walk for the night.

“Since grinding against you in a club was an option.” Eddie answers, laughter bubbling behind in his voice.

He leads you through a crowd of people dancing to a Latin beat, heavy on horns and percussion. He doesn’t give you a chance to even hesitate, his fingers strong on your exposed hips from the cut out in your dress, his knee planting itself in between your legs.

The heat makes his curls frazzle, the constant salt on his skin sweet. From the last two weeks spent in the sun, he’s starting to get a sun-kissed glow. His hand intertwines itself into your hair, tugging on the scalp as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, somehow still moving his hips against yours simultaneously.

“This is the best feeling.” He mutters, not expanding any more.

“What?” You mewl, your hips truly starting to give in to the beat.

“Knowing I have the hottest girl here.” He states, as if it’s a straight fact.

“Imagine how I feel.” You state, knowing for a fact no one even compares to his level.

Eddie turns you around, mouth kissing against your neck as your hand lands on the curls that now are surprisingly already getting some growth again.

He can’t stop his wondering hands. He never can. As if he has the strength to. They never actually touch anything, but they do grab at your ass, your thighs, even feel your tit up. Eddie loves the heat that radiates your pussy, a signal of how fantastic he makes you feel, and how much you want him, no matter where you are.

As you hop bar to bar, drink to drink, dance to dance, by the time you stumble back into the hotel room together you’re both so revved up, you don’t even bother taking your clothes off.

Your reputation throughout the hotel is how intensely you feel for one another, how badly you love each other, and usually they’d just chop it up to newlyweds, but this was a different intensity. Most of the maids haven’t even seen your faces, but they know for a plenty of intimate details just from cleaning on the same floor.

There’s not a single noise complaint, as the floor of the newlywed suites are basically made to make it your oasis.

By the end of the third week, you get homesick for your little house with him, homesick for your own bed. Eddie has spent all the time in the world ravishing you wherever he can, and it would be a lie to say you didn’t spend a single second on your knees in a public setting.

Camille, a woman who has spent the three weeks recommending local restaurants and helping Eddie with his little schemes, helps you check out and speaks to you over the desk as if you were an old friend. “By the way, I hope you know you two have gained quite the reputation here. Have a safe flight.”

Eddie’s truck is in the driveway when you get home, Steve promising to bring it back as one of his many best-man duties.

As your back hits your back, it’s better than ever to be home, glancing up at the popcorn ceiling. As you’re lying down, you notice a slight ache in your nipples that isn’t very normal for you. No mind, you would grab a test from under the sink and take it just in case.

Is…is that two lines? Is that two lines?

That’s definitely two lines.

“Shit.”

-

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[lilliumrorum]

What does he have that I don't? (Pilot)

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Synopsis: After a long and very much tiring solo mission, you head back to the base and report to your Captain. When you finally got home, you found your boyfriend of 2 years in another's mouth.

WC: 0.8k

Content/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Angst, Cheating.

Notes: This is my first time writing a fanfic, so please don't attack my ass too bad if it's shit.

Going weeks (sometimes even months) without seeing your lover was normal in your shared line of work. Simon had seemed accustomed to it, almost content with you not being around. Being Simon Riley, however, he could barely handle your relationship. Many nights would end with the lights shutting off, Simon shutting down as well. If you tried to even curl up next to him, he would shove you away forcefully. You knew he didn't love you anymore, but you kept denying it. You knew that very night when he left you in bed with no aftercare, with no second glance, and departed to "do some work," he really just wanted to be left alone. He didn't want you anymore, but like a persistent pebble in a shoe, you stubbornly stayed with him.

In your heart, you felt a deep loneliness, the person you thought was your anchor now seems distant and uninterested. Neglect has crept into your relationship, leaving you longing for the love and attention that used to be there. Each day seems like a quiet plea for connection, as his actions show a noticeable change in emotions. The small, affectionate gestures that defined your love story are replaced by an unsettling emptiness. In silence, you face the painful truth that the love you once cherished might be slipping away, and you went through the emotions that come with the fading passion you once shared.

You've been facing the painful realization that Simon's lost interest in your relationship. The passion and desire you once shared had faded, replaced by distance and disinterest. Simon's actions, or lack thereof, show a decline in physical intimacy and affection. Longing for the connection you had left you feeling unfulfilled and undesirable. Dealing with the emotional strain of this shift in attraction became a source of heartache as you navigated the complex emotions of a fading intimate connection with him.

"Sergeant?"

Your Captain's questioning voice quickly brought you back to reality. His salt-and-pepper hair and subtle crow's feet added character to his face, and his inquisitive look was accentuated by the movement of his mustache along with his lips.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you alright? you seem on edge still."

The Captain's concern for you was evident in the genuine worry etched across his face. His questioning voice took on a tone of care, reflecting his kind yet impatient personality. As he looked at you with genuine concern, the words he spoke mirrored the sincerity in his eyes, emphasizing the depth of his worry and the genuine connection between Captain and Sergeant. He knew what was wrong. He could instantly tell what was bothering you. Price was aware of how you were discarded, as if you were nothing. He had seen that sullen, tired, lifeless look in your eyes every time his lieutenant was mentioned. Though he had knowledge of your situation, he would never pry into your affairs, despite his great concern.

"Of course, just a smidge tired. That's all." You shot him a lazy grin.

"Take care of yourself, Sergeant."

He motioned toward the door, indicating that you could be dismissed.

"And {name}, Great work. I'm proud of how much effort you put into your assignments." He smiled.

"Thank you, Captain," you quickly saluted and left the office.

Beginning the long and unpleasant walk back to your shared Room on base, many thoughts began to run through your mind. Usually, Simon would ask when you were coming home. However, that stopped months ago. Simon would buy you a large bouquet of flowers and hand them to you as soon as you entered the door. After a night of lovemaking, he would whisper sweet nothings into your ear. But one cannot change time. Oh, how you wish you could. You've tried to talk to him, but he would just respond with the clicking of his teeth or even wave you off.

You missed the moments that once filled your heart with tenderness. The wish to turn back time and revive the warmth is a constant thought. Trying to talk to Simon only results in indifferent grunts or dismissive gestures, highlighting the growing divide. The once vibrant thrumming of your heart is now silent, and the journey back to your room becomes an exploration of a changing relationship, where communication is elusive, leaving you to chart the emotional terrain alone.

You haven't the slightest clue why you stayed, why your heart still melted at the sight of him. You still loved him. You told yourself over and over that this wasn't the Simon you knew and that this was Ghost. Your stubborn heart wouldn't listen.

"Shit, that walk was fast." You murmured to yourself, the room coming into view.

You don't even bother to knock, too worn out to even care if you were shouted at. The anticipation of reprimand looms, and the weariness you carry is met with the potential for Simon's raised voice, making every move a delicate dance around his disapproval.

You could not believe what was taking place right before your eyes.

More notes: Sorry this is so short, remember that this is my first time writing!! This will be a series!:) I am planning on starting part one tonight and posting it tomorrow!!

[lala3244]

Heartbreaks: Lucifer Part 2

~Started to write it 2 months ago, (yes for Christmas) and finally finished it!~

Part 1

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Warnings: talk of nightmare, briefly described, (torture and mental pain)

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You stumbled a bit and tears started to form. It’s going to be hell in hell.

You swallowed your tears and walked calmly towards Lucifer's study. You knocked gently on the door, anxious to look at the red eyed demon. When you heard a muffled "come in". You entered, eyes lowered, "Lucifer. Someone is waiting for you." He looked up, a frown on his face. "Who?" You shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. "I don't know their name but it's the demon you were with in Diavolo's office." You finally looked at him and you saw him tensed up. He stood up and walked to stand in front of you. You saw his face soften when he looked at your eyes. They were still sparkling from the tears you tried to stop forming. He started to raise his hand towards your face but stopped half-way and his expression hardened. He moved to the side so he could get past you. You sighed and headed to your room. You plopped down on your bed and screamed in your pillow. You calmed down and sat on your bed. You promised yourself to not get depressed about this situation. You were a strong human, well you thought you were, so you could handle everything without it breaking your spirit. Your hunger were gone by now and you didn't know if you could bear eating with all the brothers. You looked at the time and saw you still had time to take a shower and get ready for the evening before eating. You chose some comfortable clothes and headed straight to the bathroom. You decided to take a bath. Bath always had a way to cheering you up so you ran one and added some bath salt that Asmodeus had gifted you one day.

You went back to your room after you dried yourself and put your clothes on. It had helped you feeling better and you were starting to feel hungry, you could already smell the food from your room. You decided to go to the kitchen to see if they needed help. You stopped at the door and saw Satan. You were smiling when Satan turned around as he had heard your footsteps. He smiled back at you. You walked towards him. "Do you need help, Satan?" He shook his head. "No but you can keep me company if you'd like?" You sat on the counter as a sign of agreement. "What are you making?" He carried on with his cooking. "I found a new recipe, I wanted to test it." You nodded then he proceeded to explain to you the recipe. It sounded delicious and you were the first one to taste it. He took a spoon and plunged it in the dish then brought it to your lips. "Blow on it, it might be a bit hot." You chuckled and blew on it. You opened your mouth and you put the spoon in it. You chewed on the food and swallowed. "Mmmmh! It is as delicious as it smells!" He gave you the biggest grin. "Good, it's almost done then."

You helped Satan setting the dining table. Lucifer arrived. "You need to put one more." Your heart ached at what you knew was going to happen but you didn't say anything and went to grab another set to put it on the table. You grabbed a drink and sat at the table. You watched the brothers coming down one by one until Lucifer, who had gone back to his study, arrived with his new partner. Satan had decided to sit next to you. He knew about what had happened and wanted to be near you if you needed some support. You avoided looking at them and instead you stared at your empty plate. You heard the chair Lucifer pulled for the other demon to sit on and you winced. You could sense Satan's eyes on your face and he put a gentle hand on your knee and squeezed it. The squeeze made you jump and you stared at Satan. Lucifer started to speak but you drowned him out. You knew he was presenting the demon to his brothers and you didn't really care about their name or where they were from. You were back to staring at your plate, heart pumping loudly in your ears. Everyone started to get food on their plates but you didn't move so Satan took yours and you followed it with your eyes. Satan served you some food and put it back in front of you. You felt the brothers' stares on you. You looked around and they all looked away guiltily, your eyes fell on the couple at the end of the table. The other demon whose name had gone over your head was batting their lashes at Lucifer, trying to look all cute and adorable. You snorted and shook your head, you didn't think they would last long. You knew that Lucifer hated this sort of behaviour.

Still, dinner went smoothly then the demon left when dinner was finished. They were all lovey-dovey with Lucifer but then when they saw you they smirked and leaned towards the Avatar of Pride to kiss him on the cheek. Lucifer looked surprised then looked at you. You saw his looks and knew that was a mistake from them but he didn't say anything. He searched your face with his eyes but looked relieved when you wouldn't say anything nor were tears forming in your eyes. Satan arrived next to you and put his arm around your shoulders, he had seen the scene. He already didn't like that demon but now that he had seen the smirk they had while looking at you made him furious. "Come, I have a new book I need to show you." You walked past the couple and Satan glared at his brother who became a bit sheepish. You were almost at Satan's room when you heard the demon saying loudly. "I had a good time Lucifer. I will see you tomorrow, right?" You couldn't hear what he said as Satan was closing quickly his door. He made a gesture for you to sit on his bed and grabbed a book on his nightstand then he handed to you. You read the cover and it was from your favourite writer. It was his last book which you haven't read as you were in the Devildom and couldn't really get any human world's books. You started to read the first page, it felt nice to read something so familiar. Satan cleared his throat and you looked up from the book. "You can borrow it if you'd like?" You smiled and slowly closed the book then rubbed the cover. "Are you sure? I would love to though!" He sat next to you and took your hand. "Of course, if it makes you feel better." You squeezed back his hand and leaned your head on his shoulder. "Thank you Satan it's a nice thought." He rested his head on top of yours.

You had gone back to your room, feeling grateful for the Avatar of Wrath being in your life even though you knew he could be this kind just to spite Lucifer but at this point you didn't really care, you needed some support. You started to read the book but you fell asleep, book still opened. You woke up, startled, book flying from your lap. Your breath was ragged and shallow. You weren't really understanding what was going on. You were shaking from fear, of all the nightmares you ever had it was the first time that it felt so real, so concrete. Your body still remembered the pain that was inflicted on your dream self. The mental torture of that dream was so intense, you didn't know what to do. Without realising, you were leaving your room and running towards Lucifer's room. You entered without knocking and ran in his arms. He caught you before you fell on the ground. You were still shaking, breathing irregularly. Lucifer sat down on his bed, with you still in his arms. He waited for you to calm down, rubbing your back soothingly. "Lucifer?" He hummed, giving you his whole attention. "Can I stay with you please? I-I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep in my bed." He stood up while he moved you to the bed. "Of course, you can." You nodded and you watched him change into some pyjamas. He stood in front of you then kneeled down, he put his hand on your cheek and leaned your head towards his. He could feel your shaking and looked worried. "What happened?" You shrugged and started to shake violently as you relived your nightmare again. He saw the fear in your eyes and tried to comfort you by hugging you and shushing you.

You wrapped your arms around him and started to sob. You fell between his legs, still holding on to him. You explained your nightmare to the Avatar of Pride. You felt him tensed up and you looked up at him. "What?" He frowned. "Is it the first time you felt like this after a nightmare." You shook your head. "No, any pain usually goes away after a few seconds and the memory fades away quickly." He hugged you tighter and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. He pulled away and looked you over. He picked you up and gently laid you on his bed where his sheet had been pulled back then he covered you in them. He still had his frown on his face as he grabbed his D.D.D. and called Solomon. You were worried, Lucifer would never call Solomon unless something really wrong happened. Lucifer hung up and a couple of seconds later Solomon teleported in front of the bedroom's door. He barely greeted the fallen angel before walking towards you, he sat on the bed and grabbed your hand. You looked at him, curious then at Lucifer. "What's happening?" Solomon shushed you and closed his eyes. You could feel some magic floating around you but you didn't know what it was for. The aches in your chest and your body faded away slowly. When all was gone, Solomon smiled at you and kissed your forehead. "There, you should feel better." And indeed, you felt better, sleepy and you moved so you could get comfy in the sheet. Solomon stood up and walked towards the demon then they walked out of the room. When Lucifer came back, you were almost asleep. He joined you in bed and scooted close to you. He laid down and pulled you against his chest. You snuggled in his arms and wrapped an arm around his chest while tangling your legs with his. He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you. "Hey Lucifer? What was that all about?" He hugged you tighter. "Don't worry about it. Sleep now, you'll be tired tomorrow." You nodded as your mind started to slip into some nice dreams.

You woke up and you were practically on top of Lucifer. You moved quickly off of him, waking him up as well. "OH! I'm sorry Lucifer!" He chuckled while pulling you back to him. "It's fine, go back to sleep." You could feel your cheeks warming up while you went back to your initial position but still you fell asleep. An alarm rang while you were dreaming that you were in Lucifer's arms, in his bed. You opened your eyes when the ringing stopped. You felt a warm body underneath yours and you sat up. You looked around before you let your eyes falling on the demon next to you who was watching you with a smirk. So it wasn't a dream. You scratched your neck, embarrassed. "Good morning, Lucifer." He chuckeld. "Good morning. How did you sleep?" His smirk wasn't leaving his face. "Good, I guess. I didn't have any nightmare." He grabbed you so you would straddle his hips and pulled you into a hug. "I'm glad." He rubbed your back up and down. You tried to sat up but his grip tightened around you. "Lucifer? We need to get up." He carried on rubbing your back. "I know but this is nice." You giggled and relaxed in his embrace. You stayed in this position for a few minutes when his D.D.D rung. You saw it was Barbatos and you heard him say "It is done." Lucifer sighed. "Thank you, Barbatos." He then hung up and went back to stroking your back. You put your hands on both sides of his face. "What's happening? What's with all the secrets?" His hands fell from your back to your hips and he sat up to lean against his headboard. He sighed. "You had a curse put on you. That's why you had this nightmare. I had Solomon coming to see if he could find who cursed you. He was familiar with this so he found the person responsible for it and he asked Barbatos to take care of it." You frowned. "What do you mean "take care of it"?" You had heard rumours about Barbatos but as he said nothing, you decided to not push it further. "And who was it?" He put a hand on your cheek and he stroked it lightly with his thumb, a tight smile on his face. "Don't worry about it." You nodded and finally got up from the demon. You walked towards the door and before opening it, you turned around. "Thank you for your help, Lucifer."

You got ready, had breakfast and walked to RAD with the demons. The day went by. You tried to focus on the lessons and when you had free time, you worked on your homework. At the end of the day, you walked towards the exit when you saw Lucifer. He was standing there, looking for you and when he saw you, his face lit up. He walked towards you. A smile plastered on his face. You stopped, it actually scared you to seem, well, happy? You couldn't really read the expression on his beautiful face. You heard his chuckle when he saw yours. He stood in front of you and showed you his arm for you to grab it. "Come, we shall walk home together." You gently rested your hand on his arm and you followed him home. He was in a good mood the whole way home so you didn't want to ruin it by asking questions about why. You gladly listened to the demon, telling you about his day then, before you arrived in front of the House of Lamentations, he stopped talking and walking. You looked up at him, expectantly. "I need to tell you that we can date now" Your eyes widened. "What?" He chuckled and walked away from you. You watched him going away, bewildered, then you went inside, straight to your room. You screeched in your pillow and breathed slowly to try to calm yourself down. A knock startled you, when you opened the door, Lucifer was standing there. "Would you like to cook with me?" He held out his hand to you which you took happily. You had a great time cooking with Lucifer. It was a simple dish so it was done quickly. You set the plates down and brought the dish on the table. The evening went by smoothly, all the brothers were in a good mood. You were a bit surprised by that but you actually enjoyed it. It was a nice change of pace. After dinner, Lucifer stood up and walked towards you. He rested a hand on your shoulder and leaned his face close to your ear. "Would sleep in my bed again, tonight?" You blushed but still nodded and he pulled you up by your wrist, gently. You stood up and followed him. He stopped by your room so you could get a chance to change. You got dressed quickly and joined Lucifer to the hallway. He lead you to his room and let you entered first. You looked around and saw all the candles lit everywhere. It was a romantic setting and you turned around to see him looking at you. You smiled brightly at him. "What's this for?" He put some music on and held his hand out with a small bow. "Will you give me the pleasure of this dance?" You laughed. "I will, M'Lord." He pulled you quickly against his chest and started the dance slowly. You wrapped your hand around his neck and he put his on the small of your back. You were dancing around in circle, staring at each other. A Smile plastered on both your faces. The song felt like it lasted forever and when you looked at the time you that an hour had passed. You were both so lost on each other's gaze that you didn't even heard when the songs were changing. You pulled away from each other, stopping the dance. You chuckled while looking away. "That was nice". He nodded, a smile on his face. He grabbed your face with both hands. "Go to bed. I still need to finish some paperwork." You agreed and settled yourself under the cover. His bed was so big and comfy! You took your D.D.D with you and started scrolling through Devilgram. You lasted as much as you could as you wanted to wait for the fallen angel but your eyelids became heavier and slowly you fell asleep.

You felt the mattress dip behind you and you sat up, wide open. Lucifer put a comforting hand on your arm. "Shhh, it's only me." You looked at him, while your heart started to calm down. He pulled you to his chest and laid down. He covered both of you with the sheet. He tilted your head and put his forehead on yours. He closed his eyes and sighed then he smiled. You smiled back and you put your hand on his chest just above his heart. He opened his eyes again and pressed his lips against yours. He pulled away and searched your face for any discomfort. When he didn't see any, he deepened the next kiss. When you pulled away to breathe, you were wondering what had happened. Until two days ago, you weren't allowed to date but now you could? You were about to talk when he kissed you again, this one a bit more passionate, almost needy. "Don't ask any questions. You don't need to know the reason how or why it changed, the most important is that we can be together now." You sighed. "I guess you are right. But that won't change again, right?" He grabbed your chin to brought your face closer to his. "I promise." He kissed you while his hand slowly trailed down your neck then your chest then your hips.

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THE END

Thank you for reading and sorry for any mistake!

Comments, feedback and reblogs are welcome!

Masterlist

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Can you please please make a part 2 of the one of the first with kento 🥺 I NEED them to make up my heart can’t take angst. :(

So, I went ahead and combined these two asks because I assume they're talking about the same fic.

and while normally I'm not super big on part twos, we couldn't leave our lovers in such turmoil, now could we?

find pt.1 here!

Now Presenting...

Starring an absolutely desperate Kento Nanami

You felt dirty sitting on Satoru’s couch, but in the aftermath you had no idea where else to go. After you and Nanami broke up in that stupid fucking fight, you felt lost, but you knew you needed a place to stay. It felt wrong, partly because you knew Gojo had feelings for you, but mostly because you weren’t home. You couldn’t go home. Home told you to leave. 

“Have you tried getting a hold of him yet?” Gojo asked, sitting next to you on the couch with two cups of tea, one the perfect way you liked it. You’d been staying with him for two weeks now, and in that time he managed to fall into tune with you as best as he could. Though it didn’t feel nearly as natural as it did with Kento, you appreciated his efforts. 

“No.” You shook your head, looking down at your phone. He had been trying desperately to get ahold of you, you just couldn’t bring yourself to answer his calls. “I just…I can’t talk to him yet. He hurt me, I-”

“You don’t have to explain anything.” Gojo assured you. “I’m not here to tell you how to handle your break up. But, I will say..” He paused, trying to find the most empathetic way to put this. “He’s hurting too. I think he’s ready to try and make up.” You let out a defeated chuckle. Gojo really was an amazing friend. Despite his feelings for you, he never tried to make a move, and had in fact even been advocating for you guys to make up.

But, this wasn’t just a regular fight. Nanami broke up with you. How do you come back from that? “He’s the one that broke up with me.” You reminded your friend.

“Yea, and then he found his mind again, realized the total ass he made of himself, and wants to try and undo it.” You laughed a little at Gojos phrasing, but it hurt. Your smile felt like an open wound these days, begging for salt. 

“Well then that sucks for him.”

“Ok, well then, when do you want to go and get your stuff from his apartment?” Gojo finally asked. “If you’re sure this relationship is dead, you might as well take it off life support, right?”  you sighed. Gojo was right. If you weren’t going to take the initiative to try and get back together, might as well tie up the loose ends.

“Tomorrow.” You said with a harsh nod, as if that was what made it final. “Kento should be in the states now. I'll just leave my key on the bar.” You muttered. Gojo nodded and took a drink of his tea. 

“Alright then. I can give you a ride tomorrow.” 

💛💛💛

The air was thick as blood as you made your way to Nanami's house. You didn’t have any tears left in you to shed, so the sky wept for you. You and Gojo respected enough to keep the drive quiet. This was it. This was final. Once you remove yourself from his apartment…You’ll have no connection to Nanami left. That burden was more than an anchor on your soul, it was a fucking canon ball. Tearing you apart as it tore through you. 

“Is that his Fucking car?!” You yelped as Nanami's apartment came into view and, yes, his car. “Isn’t he supposed to be in the states?!”

“He probably got a ride to the airport Y/n.” Gojo reminded you. Oh. Yea. that was actually really logical, who leaves their car at the airport for a month? 

“Oh, right.” You muttered, embarrassment lacing your voice. Gojo parked next to Nanami's car. 

“Want me to go in with you?” He asked. You shook your head.

 “I just…I need some time to..say goodbye, I guess?”  you muttered. Gojo nodded and patted your back softly. 

“Let me know if you need me.” He muttered to you as you left the car, making your way up the stairs to say goodbye to the only home you’ve ever known. You slid your kid into the door and hesitated. This was it. This was the last time you’d ever do this. You took a deep, jagged breath, and opened the door.

Only to be met with the face of your ex, sitting at his bar, nursing a coke and whiskey at 9 am, looking like a deer in headlights as he stared at his opening door. You didn’t imagine you looked any better. You both sat there, staring at each other in a very loud silence. Both of you daring the other to break the tension somehow. It felt like someone had pressed pause on the movie of your life at the worst possible time, so, you decided to press play.

“I thought you were supposed to be in the states..” You muttered, stepping in and closing the door.

“I told them to give the job to someone else..” He felt so childish and stupid saying it. It really had been easy that whole time, and it was killing him. He’d thrown away his relationship over fucking nothing, like a fool. Like a fucking petulant child. “You were right..” He admitted. 

The ease at which he was able to get out of the business trip sent another wave of red hot rage through you. You scoffed.

“Well, I’m just here to get my stuff, then I’ll go.” you huffed. Suddenly, Nanami was on his feet, reaching out to you in almost fear. 

“No, don’t go.” He begged. “I-I never wanted you to go-”

“Then why did you tell me to leave?” You cut him off, more heat to your voice than you ever intended. 

“Because I was frustrated, refusing to see your side and when I saw my side falter, I lashed out in the most childish way possible.” Of course, leave it to Kento Nanami to over analyze any interaction to cut down to the heart of it and articulate the problem with the confidence of a therapist. 

“Yea, well…your words still hurt me!” You said, not having the articulation Nanami did when it came to emotions.

“I know, and I’m so, so sorry. I never should have let my feelings hurt yours.” Nanami said, slowly approaching you. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to kiss you like he’d never kissed before, to remind you just how much he loved you. But, he didn’t want to scare you away even more. You stood in his living room, crossing your arms and trying not to let him in. Why were you trying so hard not to let him in?

“I’m not going to apologize.” You muttered. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Nanami said, finally close enough to touch you. He gently placed his hands on your hips. “You just wanted me to be home..”

“I still want you to be home…” You muttered softly, letting him pull you closer. 

“I want to be home…” He assured you, “And I want you to be home too…” he purred as he pulled you into his chest. For the first time in two weeks you felt warm and truly safe. Your heart burst out with rays of sunshine, and your soul called out to him in overwhelming ways. You gave into the undeniable pull that was Nanami, falling into a full hug and burying your face into his chest. You felt hot tears spring to your eyes as emotions overwhelmed you. 

“Ken..” You muttered, looking up at him through bleary eyes.

“I missed you so much Y/n,” Nanami promised, showing he was thinking exactly what you were, as he pulled you into a kiss. Nothing had ever felt more right. Like the universe had finally corrected itself and righted its course. The world made sense again. Gravity held you down, earth revolved around the sun, and you loved Kento Nanami.

He pulled you closer, his warmth overwhelming you. He tasted like cinnamon whiskey, which was fitting because you swore you were getting drunk on his presence. Your body called out to Nanami, and he answered, his hands starting to wander down your body. The kiss was shifting from gentle to desperate quicker that you could fully keep up with. Your arms moved from around his waist to tangle into his hair.

 “I love you Y/n” Nanami panted as he pulled away from the kiss, “I need you.”

“I need you too.” You confirmed. That was all Nanami needed to hear. He picked you up desperately, wasting no time in getting you to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed and immediately started to kiss you again. He needed to kiss you more than he needed to breathe. You kissed him back like it was the last thing keeping you grounded to this earth. You clung to him desperately, silently begging him to never let you go again.

His hands fumbled with the button of your jeans, ripping them and your underwear off you as quickly as possible. He needed you now. You quickly undid his belt and unzipped his slacks, needing him just as bad as he needed you. His hands slipped in between your legs, his fingers slipping in between your folds. The two of you hadn’t fallen out of sync. He massaged expert circles into your clit, earning him a sweet moan from you. God, he had heard nothing more beautiful in his life.

Two of his fingers managed to slip into your weeping pussy, and he actually chuckled a bit. “Did you miss me darling?” He teased, noticing how warm of a welcome your cunt gave him. You just moaned in response, focused on how the pleasure built up inside of you. You death gripped his shirt as the ecstasy began to grow overwhelming. 

“Fuck Ken, please..” You moaned out as Nanami curled his fingers into you, massaging your overly sensitive g-spot. “I need you so bad..” Say no more. He finished what you had started, pushing his pants down enough to free his cock.

You moaned out his name as he pushed inside of you, a heat already building up inside of your stomach to let you know you weren’t going to last long. “Fuck, I missed you so much..” Nanami whimpered as he bottomed out into your warmth, your pussy drawing him in, welcoming him home. He spent more than a few nights these past two weeks fantasizing about this cunt, but there was no way in the world his fist could ever come close to the real deal.

“I missed you too,” You whimpered out, struggling at the brutal pace Nanami set. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to fuck you into a coma. You wouldn’t be all that mad if he did. Your body sang in elation to be rejoined with him, every nerve ending you had exploding in euphoria. 

Nanami's lips connected with your neck, sucking a harsh mark there, followed by a rough kiss. “You’re mine, ok?” He growled in an uncharacteristically possessive way, one that sent butterflies straight to your cunt. “You’re mine.”

“Ok,” You moaned breathlessly, the heat building into an overwhelming crescendo. 

“Say it.” He demanded.

“What?” your brain was not functioning at the level he currently demanded. 

“Say. It.” He growled, punctuating every word with a particularly hard thrust to your cervix. You whined out in pleasure and pain.

“I’m yours!” You yelled, “I’m yours Kento, all yours and only yours!” You whined out. 

“Atta girl,” Nanami purred, one of his hands slipping down to massage your clit, setting every inch of you on fire. You were running to the edge faster than the speed of light, and stopping at this point was impossible. 

“K-Ken, I’m-!” Which is as far as you got before you flew over the edge, squirting all over your lover, his cock buried deep inside of you. Nanami fucked your fluttering pussy, losing himself in everything you. He wasn't far behind you, cumming into your cervix just as you were coming down from your own high, a string of curses and praise falling from his lips. 

Nanami narrowly avoided collapsing on you, pulling out managing to fall next to you instead. He wasted no time in pulling you into his arms though. He had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. 

“I love you…” he whispered softly.

“I love you too…” you whispered back. A knock on the door startled you both, you letting out a yelp while Nanami pulled you into a protective grip.

“So are you guys back together now, or what?” Gojo asked from the other side of the door.

[oftenwantedafton]

Personal Space - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter One

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - none for this chapter

Excerpt- The new hire is delivered right to the door of Steve Raglan’s office one rainy Monday morning.

He can feel the nervous energy wafting from you. But he’s good at this. Used to dealing with anxious job applicants from less than ideal backgrounds.

He can handle some new college grad.

Also available on AO3

The problem with being good at one’s job is that everyone relies on that person. Got a question? Just ask Steve Raglan. He’ll tell you what form to use or find the phone number needed. A long term resident of the area that was a walking guidebook for directions. He knew all the roads. The best shortcuts. What stores to shop at. What establishments to avoid. Hell, he even had some great recipes. Some background in the food world or something. Restaurant experience? Something like that. It was never quite clear. But he was the go to man. Everyone in the office knows it.

So of course the new hire is delivered right to the door of his office one rainy Monday morning. Looking like a drowned rat. Carrying what had obviously been your school backpack. Cheap polyester office attire. A gray skirt and blazer that are off the rack, not quite fitting you properly. The hem of the skirt hitting your legs at an awkward level. The sleeves of the jacket too short. Hair already falling out of place. He can feel the nervous energy wafting from you. But he’s good at this. Used to dealing with anxious job applicants from less than ideal backgrounds. He can handle some new college grad.

He’d rather not, of course; he prefers working alone. It’s more efficient. Faster. You’re going to make the day difficult, he can already tell. Still he plasters on a fake smile. Drags one of the chairs intended for clients around his desk, still leaving room between his own leather specimen and the vinyl padded hardback.

“Welcome. I’m Steve Raglan.” His hand shake is firm, confident. Your own is tentative, weak. You’re going to have to work on that. “You can put your things down over there.” He gestures towards a small table in the corner. Down goes the backpack and out comes a spiral bound notebook. Pen. You sit stiffly in the chair, near the edge. Fold back the cover of the notebook and lay the writing utensil on top of it. Clear your throat, swiping at one of the stray damp hairs trailing across your cheek. The silence lengthens. Steve’s chair creaks as he leans forward. “Where did you study?”

“University of Utah.”

“You from that area?” You nod. “First time away from home?” Another nod. He suppresses the urge to sigh. Great. He was going to have to deal with you being homesick at some point, too. Salt Lake City was at the opppsite end of Utah. A good four hour drive north, minimum. “What made you end up here?”

“I went online to see other social workers in the state. You have a great reputation. A lot of awards.” You nod in the direction of the framed papers on the walls. “So I thought, why not learn from the best?”

Raglan grunts. The praise means nothing to him. The job doesn’t either, if he’s being perfectly honest. It was his former profession that was his true passion. This is just…well, it’s just something to do for the time being. Yes, he’s good at it. But it doesn’t mean he likes it. “You might as well put that away. It’s not a lecture hall. You’re not going to be taking notes. You’re just here to observe. Pay attention to verbal cues. Learn the vernacular. Become accustomed to interacting with people.”

Your cheeks flush. You close the notebook and tuck it inside your backpack. Leave the pen out, your fingers fussing anxiously with the clip on the cap. He sees you staring at the things on his desk. The white rabbit’s foot keychain on the ring of keys set next to his eyeglass case. The powder coated rabbit shaped wire frame for sorting mail. The coffee stained coaster with the logo for Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza sitting on the desk blotter, a yellow bear and yellow rabbit standing side by side waving jovially, mouths stretched in toothy grins. “You like rabbits, huh?”

Another dismissive sound. Then silence. “Do you drink coffee?”

You shake your head. “I try to avoid caffeine. My parents are tea drinkers anyway. Just never developed a taste for either.”

The bearded man pushes back from the desk, walking over to the small coffee bar lining the wall beneath the solitary window in his office. He leaves the room long enough to fill the pot from the sink across the hall. Fills the reservoir and presses the filter into place. Spoons out a measure of coffee grounds. Thumbs the orange switch at the base of the machine and looks out the window. His office faces the rear of the building. There’s a small pond out back. Trees. Benches. A nice place to have lunch when the weather is good. Not today. The surface of the pond ripples. Everything looks very green. The coffee machine begins to chortle. Angry hisses and spits. Dark liquid emerging in a steady hot trickle. He fills a mug and settles back behind the desk. Takes a sip. Sighs. Glances at the clock. It’s five past eight. Another twenty five minutes before his first appointment.

It’s going to be a long day.

***

The morning passes relatively uneventfully.

None of the first few clients are particularly problematic. It becomes an automatic reflex to introduce you, the same spiel given each time. You are a new employee, there to observe. Then Steve simply ignores you. Pretends you aren’t there and conducts the discussion as he normally would. Mid morning he announces it’s time for a break. You remain sitting. He stands and stretches. He’s six foot four and being seated doesn’t do his body any favors. The crack of the synovial fluid being pushed between the spaces of his joints is loud. The joys of aging, he thinks bitterly. His eyes flick to your seated form. “Get up. Go somewhere.” It’s not a suggestion. You jerk to your feet, stepping out into the hallway and he sighs with relief. Makes his way back to the coffee pot, a little huff of disappointment escaping when he realizes he’s already nearly emptied it. He debates about making another. Hears footsteps behind him.

“I…I don’t really know my way around. I don’t know where to go.”

He sets the pot back onto the burner. So much for a respite. Now he’s to be a tour guide, too. He knows he’s being a little unfair. Unreasonable. Of course you can’t be expected to know the layout. The routine. It’s only your first day. But it doesn’t rankle any less. So inconvenient. Bothersome. Another sigh. He doesn’t think he’s ever heaved so many regretful sounds in one day before. “Follow me.” He brushes past you without waiting to see if you’re trailing behind. Begins pointing things out. “Restroom, copy room, break room. Emergency exit. The rest of the offices down this hallway. Another restroom.” He turns and almost stumbles into you. You’re like a shadow, close and clingy. He really doesn’t care for it. “Personal space is something that people tend to respect in this profession.” Another flush. You take a step back. “Further.” Another. “A little more.” Still another. “Better.” You pass the break room again and he gestures towards it. “Why don’t you go spend some time there. Introduce yourself. Think of it as practice. Come back in fifteen minutes.”

“I don’t have a watch,” you murmur.

He clucks his tongue. “You need to get one, then. Time is important. Yours. The clients’. You can hardly expect to keep appointments without it. There’s a clock on the wall in there.” The career counselor escapes back to his office. Honestly. They are really testing his patience with this one. He jerks the coffee pot free. He’s definitely going to need more caffeine to get through this.

***

The real trouble begins in the afternoon.

Steve can smell the alcohol long before the man ever finds his way into the seat across from his desk. His body automatically leans back, away from the applicant, the folder containing the man’s resume and background information clutched in his hands. He does his best to remain professional. Focusing right on the heart of the matter. Four terminated positions in as many weeks.

“‘S’not my fault. If my bitch wife hadn’t left—”

“—I’d prefer you not use that language, sir.” Steve interrupts firmly. “And your ex’s affairs are her own. We’re here to discuss you. Your employers state that you’ve been coming into work late, if at all. Poor attendance. Multiple complaints of being rude to customers. The most recent one says that you actually assaulted someone.”

“That’s a fu— a lie,” he corrects.

“Be that as it may. You’re going to need to complete a drug test and enter a rehabilitation program before you’ll even be considered for another position.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” he mutters. “You don’t even know me. Just because a few people lied…”

“I’m not here to judge you. I’m simply stating the facts. Our goals are the same. We want to see you employed successfully.”

The man’s eyes shift to you. Lingering a little too long on places that clearly aren’t your face. Steve wheels forward again, a little in front of you as if to shield you from the client’s gaze.

“I can recommend an excellent local program.” Raglan pulls a drawer open and sets a pamphlet on the desk. “Give them a call. That’s the first step towards getting you back to work and getting your life back in order.”

The man makes no move to pick up the offering. “I’m not going.”

“Then I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do for you.”

“You’re supposed to be getting me a job.”

“You are supposed to be getting yourself a job. I can’t assist you in this current condition.”

“What about her? Maybe she can help me.” Another leer in your direction.

Steve rises to his feet. Fingers curled tightly against his palms. Glaring over the edges of his glasses. “I think you had better leave.”

“Or what?” He lurches to his feet. A little gasp from your direction. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Security will escort you out. Or I will. I really don’t think you want me to be the one to do it.” His voice is cold as he lifts the phone, waiting to see what choice will be made. The client hesitates, the bravado evaporating. Something terrifying lights the career counselor’s eyes. It’s not an idle threat.

His shoulders slump in defeat. “I’ll leave.”

Steve dials an extension. “Yes. Can you make sure the gentleman leaving my office makes it outside? And he’s not to return. Yes. Thank you.” He drops the phone back down and glances at you. Your eyes are wide, and he can see you shaking. “You alright?” You swallow and nod. “Not every aspect of this job is going to be pleasant. It’s just as well you get a lesson in that now. The key is to maintain control and de-escalate the situation.”

He settles back into his seat, smoothing his tie before shutting the folder and placing the pamphlet back in the drawer.

“What would you have done? If you went outside with him, I mean.”

Raglan flashes a grin that looks anything but friendly. “Don’t worry about it.”

You remain quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

***

The shift finally ends.

Steve unhooks the umbrella from the coat rack tucked in the corner, shaking it to dislodge any dust that might have accumulated. It’s unusual for Hurricane to have wet weather, especially as damp as this. The umbrella doesn’t see much use.

You, of course, haven’t brought one. Not even so much as a jacket. He’s going to have to be a gentleman and walk beside you, shielding you from the inclement weeping of the heavens. Closer to you than he’d like. The near contact makes him uncomfortable. He’s used to keeping himself distant. It’s been years since he’s experienced any intimacy. And yet here you are, demanding his body brush against yours. Walking you to your car which is quite far from his own. “You need to get here before seven if you want a decent parking spot.” The rain patters on the purple fabric tented above. You nod. You’re digging in your backpack for your car keys. “Don’t you have a purse or something?”

“I do, I just didn’t bring it, I thought…”

“Bring it. You don’t need that bag. You’re not in school anymore. It’s not some clunky thing, is it?”

“I mean, it’s a mini backpack.” He glowers disapprovingly. “They’re in fashion right now,” you protest.

“You should have a wallet and car keys. That’s all you need.”

“What if it’s that time of the month?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Fine. Just…bring whatever you have tomorrow.”

“Found them!” You withdraw your key ring, giving it a little shake. The disapproving stare hasn’t wavered. “Thanks for putting up with me today.” Your voice is quiet, barely audible in the downpour.

“It’s my job.” He shrugs, swapping the hand holding the umbrella.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waits until you’ve unlocked the car before stepping aside, keeping you covered for as long as possible. He doesn’t know why he’s making such an effort. Just the polite thing to do, he supposes. The interior of your car is alarmingly pink and bedazzled. Pink lining the cup holders. Covering the steering wheel. The seats. Little jeweled cat faces clipped to the air vents, dangling from the rearview mirror. You notice him staring. “It’s Hello Kitty.”

”I’m aware.” His daughter had gone through that phase. At a much younger age. He scowls but says nothing.

”Some people like bunnies. I like cats.”

You did kind of have a point. “It’s fine,” he says grudgingly. As if you needed his permission to like something. Of course you don’t. Still, you feel like you’re asking for his approval. “To each their own. Until tomorrow.” He begins making the trek back across the parking lot to his own vehicle, a vintage luxury sedan. He struggles to close the umbrella. His glasses are foggy and smeared with moisture. He lets the engine run for a few minutes, waiting for the glass to clear while trying to find a dry surface to clear his lenses with.

A car horn startles him. He recognizes your automobile behind his. You’re back out of the car into the deluge, that ridiculous book bag clutched above your head in an insufficient impromptu umbrella to shield you from the torrent. He cranks his window down. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I forgot which way I’m going when I get out of here. My apartment’s downtown…”

Steve sighs. You really are testing the limits of his patience.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 7

A/N: might be sprinkling in a little foreshadowing for what the next chapter will be about :)

Warnings: biting?

-Part 6- -Part 8-

As usual, you’re left to yourself throughout the day.

As usual, you pillage the bookcase for something new—anything new to read.

It’s been fifty-fifty with the books so far, some have been written in your tongue, while others are indecipherable—scribbles and runes and strange illustrations of caves and creatures and blood. Well, it’s ink on parchment, so you don’t know it’s blood. All you can really tell is that it’s a dark liquid, but knowing Azriel, it’s probably blood.

A couple have proven interesting, in the sense they make you question your faith toward the gods—in a careful toeing-the-line-between-gentle-prying-and-outright-treason sort of way.

Others have contained less heathen-esque content: tales of worlds without deities (how you lament!), stories of chivalry and justice (how romantic!), erotica—you don’t care to comment on some of the passages you’ve unfortunately read.

But it’s been a while since more have oh-so-mysteriously appeared, so you’re left to flip through the illustrations of the books you’re unable to read. You’re more than content to lay on your stomach, but something shifts in the air. It’s difficult to put your finger on the exact change—similar to when Azriel returns near nightfall. That ripple of power that rushes through the room. Like some sort of pulse. Boots scuff on the floor—you’ve never seen another soul in the castle, but have also rarely ventured beyond the confines of your room. Mostly from a mix of fear, and contentedness in the room.

Blood rushes round your ears as you slip out of bed, padding quietly to the door. Pressing your ear against the wood, you listen, holding your breath incase you miss something. It’s completely silent.

You swallow, taking a step back. The door suddenly seems much larger, as if it’s looming over you. Your eyes drop to the small keyhole beneath the handle…

Not allowing any doubts, you quietly step back, crouching down as you peer through the tiny hole…only to be confronted with those familiar hazel eyes.

You exhale heavily, heart pounding with relief as you raise to your feet, turning the handle to greet him, half wondering why he’s back so early—and why he was peeping through your bedroom keyhole. Your shared bedroom keyhole.

“Azriel,” you begin, opening the door, “please don’t do—”

You freeze.

Terror strangles your throat as you stare into two sets of blacked-out eyes, each at least a head taller than you. A female on the left, a male on the right. You scream, scrambling back, slamming the door shut on them.

Hands fly across your mouth as you attempt to regulate your breathing, sight blurring. Boots scuff on the floor, and the handle dips, as if they’re trying to get in. Your stomach lurches as you spin on your heel, nearly flipping over the rug on the smooth stone floor in your haste. You dart to the bed, slipping beneath its large wooden frame, and hold your breath.

Hot water drips down your cheeks as you keep your hands over your mouth, shifting to make sure you’re as concealed as possible, shifting further and further beneath the bed until your feet brush something…granulated. Like sand.

Salt, you realise, but why is there a circle of salt beneath your shared bed? And why is there something drawn across its centre? What looks to be a—

Mother fucking boil and burn.

Thoughts eddy from your head as you realise your lower half is across a pentagram. A pentagram formed with black salts.

A deep snarl sounds from outside the door—raw and beastly, laced with fury. Two sets of feet scramble away, fading into the distance. You don’t dare release a single breath, not as you hear the door snick shut, and something enters. Something scary enough to send those two running.

Your teeth find your lip, and you bite down to keep from whimpering with fear. Four paws stop beside the bed, and you nearly vomit with terror. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears rolling down, splashing on the floor. It’s enough noise to be picked up. The beast stalks closer, until it’s at the edge of the bed—it’ll be able to see you.

“Get out from there.”

You stiffen at that cold command. Voice razor-sharp, merciless. You nearly weep with relief as you recognise him, opening your eyes to take him in.

Sheer horror greets you, mouth dropping as the whites of your eyes bulge at the sight of him. Three-pronged paws, quadrupedal, hind joints—where his knees should be—inverted. Like some hell-beast. You scream, his milky eyes snapping closed, then opening to reveal total black. Snapping bone sounds, and then he’s right again, hand gripping your forearm as he forcefully drags you out, across the smooth stone. You kick and thrash against the brutal grip, salt spraying at your feet, then reforming back into that neat, satanic symbol.

He grips your shoulders with both hands, fingers biting into your trembling muscle as you stare at him with wide, shining eyes, flicking between him and his knees, checking they’re back to normal. “What—?” You stammer, peering at him, hands lowering from your mouth, shaking.

He growls low in his throat, gripping you tighter with displeasure. As if he’s silently reprimanding you for taking too long, for appearing such a state before him. “Spit it out.”

You stare at him, utterly bewildered. “What were—who were those…?” You don’t know what to call them. “Were they more of your ilk?” You manage, focusing on the bite of his nails in your shoulders, the unforgiving glint his hazel eyes.

But he doesn’t answer you. Instead, his brow narrows with what you could swear is anger—rage. “Why did you open the door?”

You stiffen beneath his bruising touch.

His grip tightens and you whimper, instantly covering your mouth. Something dark and evil glints in response to the small noise. Something ancient and predatory—instinctual.

He leans closer, hot breath curling with his lip. “Why did you open the door?”

“I thought it was you,” you stammer softly, peering at him beseechingly. He snarls at that, as if insulted. “How stupid can you be?” You reel back at the harsh words, staring.

“It had your eyes,” you mumble, blinking back tears as you attempt to steady your breathing, “I thought it was you. Don’t call me stupid.”

Just like that, he surges forward, tipping you backward onto the stone floor, pinning you down. His lip curls back from his teeth, then they’re sinking into your neck.

Words and sound are ripped from your conscious as pain lashes through you. It’s not like before, not when it sent aching pleasure singing in your blood. This is punishing—agonising stinging. Muscles seize, fingers tremble, eyes wide. Your back arches into him at the onslaught of blazing brutality he’s stamping into your skin.

Surely its no more than a few seconds. No more than mere moments, but it blares through your mind, hammering your bones, crushing your skin as he retracts his teeth. He pulls back, wound already sealed as he grabs you by the hair, yanking you up so your throat is again exposed.

“Never,” he snarls, so gutturally you can barely understand him. “Never do that again.”

Tears spill as more fractures appear. Splintering deeper, cracking open something so raw you don’t know what to do. He’s panting, fury blazing in his pitch black eyes, razor-like talons slicing at your back as they slide from his knuckles, cutting through your clothes.

“You…” You hiccup, hand raising to your neck, feeling the two small indents of scars. “Why…?” He snarls again, and you flinch, eyes squeezing shut, bracing for another wave of that soul-splitting pain. The snarl cuts off, hands stiffening over you.

A beat passes.

Then another.

No pain.

Then he’s pulling away, and you fall back against the stone floor, watching as he stands, looming over you. He stares down at you, distaste shining in his eyes as he looks at your crumpled form. You hate that look. Hate it for everything it stands for, hate it for everything it’s done to you. Hate it on him.

“If I disgust you so much, you know you can just return me to my home,” you cry weakly, “nothing’s keeping you from doing so, so just put me back. Find someone else. We clearly aren’t suited for one another.”

Pain blazes through his chest, contracting, tightening, suffocating the air from his lungs. He can hear your hummingbird heart, can scent the fear drumming through your blood, can see your arms are on the verge of giving out from their trembling. Why are you so weak? Why don’t you fight back? Why are you giving up on him?

“You want to see your home?” He snarls, fury lighting his skin on fire, rage riding his mind, “fine.” He grabs you, hauling you against him roughly, talons slicing at your arms in neat little cuts. Then darkness swirls around the two of you and that weightless feeling overtakes his body, as if he’s plummeting deeper and deeper into that unfillable void.

You hate how you cling on to him despite the small lacerations he’s gifted you, pain stinging your skin as you squeeze your eyes shut in attempts to keep your tears inside. Then the dark clears, and you feel sand beneath your feet—bare feet. And it burns like it’s been heated by the scorching midday sun.

Granules bite at your skin as the wind picks up and Azriel steps away. And vanishes.

You barely had time to raise your hands to reach for him, but now he’s gone. And you’re stranded in the middle of the citadel in nothing but your night clothes. Mortification burns your insides—already people are staring: at your bare ankles, naked collar bones, unclothed arms.

You duck your head and scuttle beneath the overhang of a building, the scalding sand cooling beneath your soles as you try to figure out where he’s dumped you. All it takes is for you to spot the well in the square, and you know. You spin on your heel, and run.

————

Cinders and ash mix with the sand. Fragments of bespoke vases spike the wreckage. The smell of smoke still clings to the desolated site.

Aside from the crushed wall that stands no higher than your calves, nothing remains of your home.

You look around, but everything is in correct relation to your house as you remember it. You’re in the right place, but there’s nothing left. It’s been torched, ruined, and wrecked. At the entrance, the sand is still stained dark from where a cleansing sacrifice would have been made.

How long has it been like this? Left in pieces?

The winds die out, and the world goes silent.

Your feet make no sounds as they crunch over the sharp fragments. The sand doesn’t hiss as you step within the site, neither do you make any noise at all as the granules burn your soles. One step after another you track the obliterated halls and rooms of your home, burned to the ground.

Anything of value has been taken—the coloured stones, the small pieces of softened stained glass you’d found in the river beds. Either the dried plants and herbs were set ablaze with the rest of your home, or they were taken and relocated.

Stolen, a small, wicked voice whispers. Stolen, desecrated, destroyed.

You walk to the tiny room you’d slept in, the heart of your home. Charcoal is all that’s left of the small cot, the sheets and covers long incinerated. You don’t allow the tears to drop, don’t emit anything. The faintest breath dies on your lips, cracked and filmy.

A hand grips your upper arm, sharp nails grazing the small cuts as they turn you. He’s not wearing boots—his feet have shifted to paws, the skin thick enough to brave the scorching sands. Yours must be covered in welts by now, but—nothing.

He shakes you roughly, your teeth clacking together, making your head ring. Then he’s gripping your chin, raising you to look at him. Still, everything’s quiet. His eyes are blazing, not longer that cold, merciless hazel, but burning with something. Something you’ll never let yourself match.

His lip pulls back from his teeth in a flash of white, and it occurs to you his mouth is moving. He’s saying something, but the edges of your vision are blurry, as if muffled by something. In the back of your mind, in the depth of your repressed feeling, something twinges, reaching up a small hand from the crushing pile of guilt and raw emotion. Barely alive.

You shove it down.

You step back, and he releases you, watching.

You don’t look at him, lowering your gaze as you step around him, not even acknowledging him. What is there to acknowledge, anyway? The ruin he’s brought upon you?

You once swore you would survive him, that you would weather him. Well, that’s all you can do. You don’t have a choice but to take everything he gives. It’s not like you have darkness glittering at your fingertips. It’s not like you can shift into a monstrous form, or have skin tougher than leather to protect yourself with. It’s not like you have great, powerful wings, or razor-sharp teeth and talons.

You’re human, and he’s painfully other.

Skin crumbles like sand, bones snap like twigs.

One step at a time, you trace the familiar steps. In desperate need of refuge.

One step at a time, away from him.

————

Enough sound has returned to the world that you can hear the scuff of his paws behind you. Looming at your back like a cursed wraith, set on haunting you until your last breath rasps from wet lungs.

You reach the steps leading to the temple, and the footfalls stop; you do not. One step at a time, you ascend the marble stairs, and it’s only when you reach their peak that you’re approached by one of the acolytes. The devout worshipers who dedicate their lives to the temples and the gods. You’d often found yourself considering giving yourself over to them, too.

“What troubles have you come by, sister?” The acolyte does not touch you, but offers a patient smile, reeking of warmth and soft femininity. Gentle, and welcoming. The tears are falling before you can stop them, but the young woman does nothing to clear them. Merely watches and waits.

“I would like refuge for a few days,” you murmur through quiet sobs, “I have been favoured by malignant misfortune, and she has not treated me well. I would request a cleanse.” The woman’s eyes soften almost imperceptibly, “follow, child.”

Relief sweeps in so heavily you almost crumple then and there, but then he’s manifested before you, wreathed in thin shadows that make him appear as a reflection in water. He’s displeased; angry. “You think an exorcism will take you from me? You torture yourself needlessly.” You stare at him silently, watching warily. “I’ve been through enough at your hand,” you mumble. “You brought me here, and I will gladly rid myself of your presence in any way I can. Let me go.”

Beside you, the young woman stiffens, observing silently. You miss the way she catches another’s gaze, gesturing subtly toward your one-sided conversation.

“So affixed with your religion. Has it ever occurred to you to question it?” You narrow your eyes at him, considering the merit of engaging in this conversation. “What would I need to question?” You ask, “the gods had been merciful toward me until you entered my life.”

“Blind faith counts for nothing,” he counters, “you are good in exchange for exemption from the silver fires of hell. Your insides rot like mine beneath your pristine skin, bride.” You recoil at the title—he hasn’t used it in such a while it had managed to slip your mind.

“I am not your bride. No longer,” you manage, taking a step away from him toward the acolyte—who’s been joined by a similarly robed young woman. Both of them watch on warily. “Let me go—we are not suited for one another.”

“We are,” he insists, “if you would let go of yourself for one damned minute, you would see.”

“I. Can’t. Trust you. Azriel,” you grit out, finding it hard to look into those cold eyes of his. “You belittle, hurt, and taunt me every chance you get. Why would I ever let myself be when you’re around. It’s not like you make it easy for me.”

“You were fine in the air,” he snarls, stepping forward, “and you were fine on top of me, too.”

You’re lucky that someone interrupts, because you have nothing to say to him. No barbs to reach for, no verbal weapons to hurl at him. He’s right. You did enjoy the flight.

A woman—cloaked in the robes of a priestess—steps forward, the two acolytes now dismissed. “I have been told you seek refuge here. Come inside.” You turn to the voice, only to be met with a woman who can’t possibly be older than you. She appears to be slim, and tall, with cascading silky hair that curls lightly in spirals. Her deep cocoa eyes are warm, and open.

Beside you, Azriel has gone rigid.

“Elain.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

[moremaybank]

THIS LOVE (IV) — j.m

pairing actor!jj maybank x actress!reader

chapter summary you're set to turn down your management team's proposal, but a familiar face pops up and changes your decision. the plan is set in motion, and jj begins to move into your house. upon his arrival, you two share a moment that quickly turns sour and drives you away from him further.

warnings luke maybank (bleh), a trip and fall, an almost-kiss, language. let me know if i've missed any! [4.5k]

recommended listening daddy issues by the neighbourhood, nights like this by kehlani

this love — the complete playlist ;; the masterlist ;; the tag list

❝ CHAPTER FOUR ❞

Y/N

You press the lock button on your car keys, hearing the doors click. You make your way through the parking lot of Floyd Management. You’re about to tell Josh and Andrea that you’re saying no. You just can’t imagine having to embark on this journey with someone who left you with so much pain that it drowns out all the good times.

Contrary to what everyone may believe, this was not a rash decision. You chewed on it, going back and forth for days about whether or not you should just suck it up and agree to this fake relationship nonsense for the sake of the movie and the opportunities it might bring you. But then you thought about having to spend most of your time by the side of the man who broke your heart, kissing him and acting as if you’re in love with him. Re-connecting with JJ made your wounds feel so fresh again, and jumping on board with this plan would only add salt. 

And it’d sting.

You’re halfway to the entrance when you hear the voice of someone you never thought you’d have to deal with ever again. 

“Hey, there, sweetheart. You sure have done well for yourself.”

The hairs on the back of your neck rise, and you instantly grow cold. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to come.

“What are you doing here, Luke? Shouldn’t you be in prison?” 

Luke rounds your body so he can speak to you face to face. He raises a hand to toy with a strand of your hair but you flinch, backing away immediately and keeping your distance. All he does is laugh softly.

“You’ve definitely grown up. Interested in taking the original Maybank for a spin? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” His voice drops an octave and it makes your skin crawl.

“You’re disgusting. Get out of my way before I call the cops.”

“What are you gonna tell ‘em, darlin’? That I spoke to you?”

You stay silent, knowing that he’s right. He technically hasn’t done anything, and you’d simply look foolish.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you. I have a proposition for you, actually,” he says. 

“Oh, yeah?” You ask. “And what’s that?”

“I want you to help me take JJ down.”

You scoff. “I’m not helping you with anything.”

“You will if you don’t want me to release that sex tape of his and put an end to his career.”

You want to be surprised, but you aren’t. Luke Maybank has never been one to change or reflect on the mistakes of his past. He usually chooses the route of making more, and they’re always worse. And your sentiments weren’t just based on hearsay. You watched JJ go through all the misery caused by Luke. Had cleaned up the cuts and iced the bruises. Taken him to the hospital when his injuries were more than you could handle. You’d cook meals for him, bring an extra bag of lunch to school. Let him stay at your house when they’d shut off the power, water, and anything else they could thanks to Luke not paying the bills. He was an awful person, through and through, and though you were more than upset at JJ for how he scorned you, it’d never be enough to work with his father. 

“You know, all you ever did was make JJ feel small. You dedicated your life to drugs, alcohol and jail time, and you know what JJ got out of it? A mother who abandoned him thanks to your oh-so charming ways, and a father who did him more harm than good by sticking around. I wouldn’t help you if you were dying on the street,” you spit, shoving past him and trying to enter the building. 

“Then you can kiss your little costar goodbye.”

“Are you coked out right now? Or just delusional? I’m not going to let you do this to him. End of discussion,” you respond. 

“Well, you’d better hope JJ pays me and those girls that hush money. ‘Cause you know I’ll come to collect.”

-

JJ hurt you. The damage he’d done to you was once considered irreparable. It’d taken you years to work through that anger and betrayal and you still weren’t even a hundred percent there. But working with Luke? That was simply a line you’d never cross.

You ride the elevator to Josh’s floor, and once you reach it, you make a dash for the waiting area outside of his office. You spot the blonde you’re desperately in pursuit of instantly.

“I need to talk to you,” you blurt rather loudly. You don’t realize how booming your voice actually is until you realize that everyone else in the room is staring you down with confusion and shock written all over their faces.

JJ gets up from his seat and pulls you gently into a secluded area.“You didn’t need to come all the way down here to turn Josh and Andrea’s proposal down. I get that you don’t want to help me. I mean, why would you after what I did?”

“JJ—”

“No, it’s okay. Seriously, I did it to myself, and—”

You can’t wait any longer. “I saw Luke.”

JJ goes quiet immediately upon hearing those words. He’s so in shock that he doesn’t answer you right away.

“Did— Did you know that he was here?” You question, though you know the answer. You doubt he knew, because if he did, he wouldn’t be as quiet as he is at this moment.

He shakes his head slowly, “Nah…Nah, I didn’t.” He visibly chews on his words before hesitantly speaking again. “Did he…hurt you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Just in shock.”

He nods. “He say what he wanted?”

You moisten your lips, and your eyes abandon his. “He wants me to work with him…help him destroy your career.”

“Right,” he nods, crossing his arms. “Of course he does.” 

You watch him pace down the hallway, but not too far, holding his head in his hands. 

“Goddamn it!” He bites out. The JJ you used to know would’ve punched through the wall in front of him by now, and you can tell that the current JJ wants to, but he holds himself back. Once he calms himself down a tad, he turns back to you. His steps are large, helping him make his way to you quickly. “Where is he? I’m gonna kill him for going near you, and then I’m gonna kill him again for trying to fuck with my life.”

“JJ, don’t. He’s not worth the energy,” you say, trying to talk him down from the ledge he’s on.

His hands come to rest on your shoulders. “Y/N, he approached you. He could’ve hurt you. And I wasn’t even there to…” he pauses, taking a breath, “to protect you.”

Your eyes dart away from his once again as your body tenses at his touch. He senses your discomfort, and pulls away from you immediately. “Uh,” he clears his throat, “Sorry.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s— it’s fine. You’re shaken up. And understandably so.”

Your eyes cautiously find his again once you find the courage, and you can see that he’s trying not to crumble. You know hearing his name alone is terrorizing, and now that he has to deal with Luke trying to rip away everything he’s ever worked for…your heart hurts.

“I wanna help you.”

JJ’s head instantly shakes, notifying you of his disapproval. “No. I don’t want your pity. I’ll be okay, I’ll figure this shit out. It’s my own fault that I’m in this mess anyway.”

“It’s not pity, JJ. I might not be thrilled to work with you or about what you did, but…I’d never knowingly let Luke hurt you.”

“You…you don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t,” you tell him. “I want to. But I need you to understand that this doesn’t make things okay. It’s just about work. Business. It can’t be anything more than that.”

“Well,” he says, proceeding with an immense amount of caution. “Will you at least let me tell you what actually happened that day? It’s tearing me apart, Y/N/N.”

For the first time since you’d seen him again, your heart warms at his use of your childhood nickname. You missed it terribly, and you partially wanted to slap yourself and bring yourself back to reality. You’re scared. He’s starting to make the walls you’ve spent so long putting up crack just by speaking to you and having that ache in those damn blue eyes.

“I’m not…I’m not ready, and I definitely don’t want to rehash everything right before we do this. Let’s just go into this meeting, tell everyone that we’re on board and take things one step at a time.”

“But, Y/N—”

“JJ, please don’t make this any harder for me.”

JJ looks into your eyes, and you hate it, but you both know you’re on the verge of falling apart. “Yeah. All right.”

-

“You know, if you weren’t paying us to do damage control, JJ, I’d say that you were trying to kill me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not that I’m his biggest fan, but this isn’t his fault. It’s on Luke. He’s always been selfish like this,” you add, trying to ease the prominent frown lines on Josh’s forehead.

Josh nods, “Yeah, I know. But I just don’t know how we go about this now. I mean, if we pay the hush money, there’s still a ninety-nine percent chance that Luke leaks the tape.”

“Then maybe we release it ourselves, like you and Andrea said,” you suggest. “That way, we can control how the public views it, and Luke won’t be able to hang it over our heads anymore. He’ll have nothing.” 

“Great,” JJ huffs, running both hands through his hair. “Now everyone’s gonna know I’m an ass.”

“Some of us already know that.” You earn a laugh from Josh, and a small smile from JJ to which you return. The both of you know that you’re half-joking, so nothing is taken too seriously. “For real, though. We explain to the media how Luke orchestrated the whole thing. It’s not the perfect solution, but it’s better than them getting to the public first.”

“All right, well, I have to talk to Andrea and get everything sorted out, but we need to get a head start on moving you two in together. My guess is that you’re going to need a few days to get used to being in each other’s lives again, especially if we want the public to believe that you two are in love. Oh, and we need to get a press conference planned so we can release your porno.”

“Can we not call it a porno?” JJ asks, half-heartedly glaring at him.

“It’s funnier that way.” JJ rolls his eyes, and you can’t help but snort. “Andrea and I will ensure that you know what you’re going to say about it.” 

“Nah. I got this. I’ll run it by you guys, but I know what I’m gonna say.” 

While they’re speaking about their upcoming plans, your heart is about to burst right out of your chest, and not in a good or exciting way. Pretending to love someone is one thing, but pretending to be in love with someone who you were enamoured with for over a decade after getting your heart stomped on by them…let’s just say it’s a completely different ball game. Yes, you’d convinced yourself that helping JJ was the right thing to do, mostly because you feared what Luke would do to him if you didn’t. But it’s now dawning on you that this is no longer just about filming a movie. Now you two are going to be watched constantly, even more so if everyone believes that you’re in a relationship. And not only that, but the tabloids will be inserting themselves into it constantly, which will more than likely complicate things. That was proven when JJ made his declaration to the world.

JJ notices the worry flash over your face as your mind wanders. “Hey, are you sure we need to move in together, like, right now? Isn’t it a little soon?” 

“Well it’s not like we can spring you forth into the public when you can barely hold eye contact for a minute. They’ll never believe that you two are together. So, yeah. I’m sure.”

“So…when will this all be happening?” You ask. You aren’t even sure if they can hear you, because you can’t hear yourself. The only thing your ears are picking up on is a high pitched ring brought on by your nerves.

“As soon as possible. I’m thinking by the end of the week. But it all depends on which one of you is fine with moving the other one in.”

Your eyes widen at the possibility of having to move into JJ’s house. You’re sure he has a nice place. It’s not even about that. The thing is, you’re already forcing yourself to go along with this ploy. And now you’re facing the chance of losing the comfort of your home and happy place? 

“We can…we can use mine,” you voice out timidly. 

“No, I can’t let you do that. I’m already dragging you into my mess,” JJ argues, albeit lightly. “I won’t put you out like that.”

“Well, I don’t want to be ripped away from my house and everything I know, JJ. This is already a lot.”

He extends his hand out, like he wants to grab yours and hold it in his they way he used to when he was stressed, but it stutters and falls back into his lap. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Besides, I have a million rooms in there that I never go into anyway. I’m sure you’ll make good use of them.”

He smiles slightly, “You got a game room?”

You know what he’s referring to, and you can’t help but sport your own tiny grin as well. “Of course I do.”

Flashback - Age 15

Y/N

“So, when you get outta here, and you become a superstar and buy an enormous mansion — which better have a bedroom reserved for me, by the way — what kinda rooms are you gonna put in it?”

You snorted a laugh. “What do you mean?”

He sat up from his place on your couch and rotated his body so that his head fell on your lap. He kicked his feet up on the other side, and looked up at you.

“Like, if I got my own mansion, the first thing I’d put in there is a game room. I’m talkin’ a pool table, a dart board, some arcade-style games like Pac-Man. A PlayStation. I dunno, the possibilities are endless. Oh! And I’d have a chess board for sure.”

You gave him a look, trying not to laugh. “You don’t know how to play chess, J.” 

“Hell nah, I don’t know how to play chess. It’ll make me look smart though.”

You hummed in agreement, letting your fingers run through his hair. You watched his eyes close as he relaxed into your touch. He let out an obnoxious moan when you started to scratch at his scalp lightly, and you smacked his chest with your other hand.

“Weirdo,” you mutter.

JJ simply laughs, before grabbing the same hand you’d whacked him with, holding it in his own. “Have you thought about it yet?”

“Thought about what?”

“What kind of rooms you’re gonna put in your house, dummy.”

You think for a moment. Different ideas float around, but then you land on one that you know you’ll make happen for sure. “Probably an entertainment room. Kinda like yours, but it’ll definitely have a big ass screen and comfy reclining seats like at the movies so I can feel like I’m in a theatre while crying my eyes out over my one millionth rewatch of One Tree Hill. It’ll have a mock concession stand, and a popcorn maker. And a Slurpee machine for good measure.” 

“Nice! I’m totally stealing that idea, just, without the whole crying over One Tree Hill part. ‘M not gonna waste my screen on that snooze-fest.”

“Oh, please. You were practically sobbing when Haley left Nathan to go on tour with Chris,” you mock. 

His eyes shoot open and his teasing smirk drops. “I thought we agreed that we’d never speak of that. I was high.”

“High on Naley, that is.” 

“Whatever.”

End of Flashback

“Then it’s settled,” Josh speaks, cutting you out of your daydream. “JJ, provided that Andrea and Y/N’s team are on-board, you’ll move into her house by Friday.”

Damn. Shit just got real.

JJ

It’s Friday, and JJ is now on his way over to your house in a U-Haul truck. He taps along to the rhythm of what he’s listening to on the radio, some Dua Lipa song that he’s certain is in the Barbie movie (and everyone should refrain from asking him how he knows that). The tapping is more mindless as he tries to settle the anxiety he has over this move. He knows that you’re already stretching yourself thin by agreeing to help him. But offering to let him move in to your house? Between this and his past mistakes, the guilt is starting to boil over.

Once he makes it to your gate, he hesitates for a moment before pressing the buzzer. 

“Who is it?” Your voice questions through the speaker.

“It’s J— ” he stammers, before correcting himself. “JJ.” 

So much for playing it cool. He couldn’t even say his name to you anymore.

“Oh, uh, hold on a sec. I’ll let you in. Just pull into the driveway, my security guy will come and help you.”

“Cool.” 

JJ hears a chime, and instantly, the gates begin to open. He drives through them, slowly pressing on the gas as he takes in the front view of your home. It’s fancy, but modest. A testament to you and your personality. 

Then, a tall man with a rather large build emerges from your front door and signals JJ to pull up to him. 

“You JJ?” He asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Y/N’s security guard, Dave,” the man speaks, introducing himself. He’s handsome — not that JJ noticed — and definitely more on the quiet side. “Throw the truck in park. I’ll get it unloaded it for you.”

JJ shakes his head. “Nah, man. At least let me give you a hand.”

“It’s all right. It’s easier this way. Go on inside, I’m sure Y/N will give you the grand tour.”

JJ gives Dave a nod, and approaches your doorway. This is it, he thinks. He enters your home, stepping into the foyer and taking a look around from where he’s standing. His eyes immediately land on two grand staircases parallel to each other, with a luxurious chandelier hanging right in the middle of them. It isn’t on, but thanks to the sunshine bleeding through the ceiling-high windows, it sparkles and casts a magical glow into your home. There was art hanging on the walls, sculptures on the front tables, and flowers that add a pop of colour into the monochromatic room. 

But something JJ can’t ignore is the smell wafting in from your kitchen. The unforgettable fragrance of your signature cinnamon rolls fill his nostrils and instantly take him back to much simpler times. He can practically see you now, with your hair clipped back and your World’s Best Baker apron secured behind your neck and your back. You undoubtedly have flour on your face, and your tongue poking out as you concentrate. 

You’d always been so domestic, a feeling that JJ longed to be around when he was younger. It’s nice to re-experience it now, even in his older age. Especially in his older age. He’s been coming home to an empty and quiet house for years now, and he hates it. It’s hard not to let the loneliness get to him.

As if you’re reading his thoughts, you yourself come through the entrance, just like he envisioned. Hair pulled back from your face, your same old apron attached to you (though it had worn a bit over the years), and a swipe of flour on your cheek. When you come directly in front of him, JJ’s tempted to reach out and wipe your cheek for you. Every time he did so when you were younger, the action never failed to pull a shy smile and heated cheeks from you. But now, he fears that you’ll back away and avoid him like the plague if he acts on his internal desires. So he doesn’t.

“Hey, have you been waiting here for long?”

“Nah. Not at all,” JJ assures you. He motions to your cheek, “You got a ‘lil something there.”

He watches you retrieve your phone from your back pocket and swipe to open your camera. Your mesmerizing eyes widen, threatening to pop out of your head as you scramble to scrub the powdery ingredient off of your face.

“Right,” you clear your throat, putting your phone back into your pocket. “So, uh, why don’t I give you a tour. Show you where you’ll be staying?”

“Sure,” JJ agrees.

“Okay, well, follow me.”

You turn around and begin to walk through the foyer. JJ, slightly distracted (okay, more than slightly) by your figure, stalls for a moment before his brain reminds him that he’s supposed to be trailing you. He takes large strides, catching up to you and praying that you didn’t notice. The two of you make your way around the main level, visiting the kitchen, dining room, living area. You show him the backyard, your pool complete with a swim-up bar and a hot tub. He notices that you have a few surfboards lined up against the wall of the change room and he smiles, happy memories of the two of you cruising the waves together back home flooding his mind. And last but not least, you made it to the room he’d been waiting for. Your rec room. 

It’s just as you described when you thought it out all those years ago. A huge screen for movies and TV. Rows of theatre-like reclining chairs. A snack bar with a Slurpee Machine. 

Next, you two focus on the gaming section. A colourful glow casts over the room thanks to the arcade machines, and it evokes a sense of nostalgia for JJ. His eyes light up as they trail over Pacman, Street Fighter 2, Super Mario Bros, Sonic the Hedge Hog, and Mario Kart. But the twinkle in his eyes lights up further when he sees Dance Dance Revolution in the far corner. 

“Hey, remember how we used to dominate at DDR back home? We massacred John B and Pope every time.”

You nod, the recollection of those times pulling at your heart strings. Still, you’re afraid of thinking too deeply on them. “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. And they aren’t here, so, I doubt it’d be as fun without them.”

JJ gives you an earnest look. “I get it, things are different now. But we live together now, Y/N. I want us to be able to get along. I don’t want us to feel like we have to avoid each other all the time, and I’m also not planning on spending the next couple months arguing with you every day. Maybe…maybe we could have fun. Make this whole arrangement bearable.” 

“JJ, it’s not that simple,” you say. 

He leans in, his voice soft. “I know it won’t magically fix everything, but we can try, right? For both of us?”

You gaze into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of sincerity. Sighing, you reluctantly give in. “Fine, but don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

He smiles triumphantly. “Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”

The two of you step onto the dance pad, and JJ chooses a song. Slide by Calvin Harris pulsates through the room. Your movements synchronize as you dance, and soon, laughter is spilling out of your mouths and mixing in with the song. JJ can’t help but look at you for a moment, all smiley and happy in his company for the first time in weeks. It’s nice to see you letting loose around him, finally. Unfortunately, things quickly go south when his foot falters, and he stumbles, pulling you down with him. You crash onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, and JJ lands on top of you. 

Your faces are mere inches apart, your breaths mingling. For a fleeting moment, time stands still, and it feels like before. It’s like he’s been transported back to your adolescent years, still best friends and teetering back and forth on the line between best friends and something more. And just when he inches closer, debating on closing the gap between you, you scramble to get up, gently rolling him off of you and making a beeline for the door. 

“Y/N, wait!” He calls after you. He practically has to chase you down the hallway. He reaches out, fingers gently circling your wrist and stopping you from getting any further. “I…I thought we were having fun?”

“Fun?” You ask, your tone seeped with indignation. “JJ, you tried to kiss me! I should’ve known this was all some ploy of yours to get into my pants again. God, I should’ve known better.”

“Wait, what? Y/N, that’s not what this was,” JJ defends. “That whole game thing…I was trying to reconnect with you. I never meant to bring up the past for you and hurt you again.”

Your eyes avoid his, and he knows you’re too scared to look into them. He’d reach out and hold your head in his hands the way he used to, gently force your gaze onto him so you can see his vulnerability, but this isn’t the past. You don’t trust him the way you did before. Hell, you don’t trust him at all. So his hands remain at his sides.  

“I’m willing to try. I’m willing to earn back your trust, to show you that I’ve changed. But you gotta give me a chance. Please, Y/N, just give me a chance.”

You ignore his declaration, and his plea. “I’ll have Dave show you to your room. The bed’s all made up, so you shouldn’t have to do much.” 

JJ watches you walk down the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“Out. I have to get out of here.”

JJ wipes a hand over his face, letting out a sigh of frustration. He was finally getting somewhere with you. Things were looking up. But in a flash, they all went downhill, and now, he’s slowly losing faith. 

Good thing that isn’t going to stop him from fighting.

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[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

P&C | Ch. 16: Peaches and Cream

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

December 7 

There it was, written in bright red letters with small hearts and doodles surrounding it, the special date. Jungkook's birthday. See, he is only a few months older than me, but apparently, that's enough of a motive for him to never shut up about it. Sure, he might be bigger, stronger and faster than me but at the end of the day, I got the brains and the beauty (not up for a debate, my mental health won't be able to handle it please). Back to what's important, see, Jungkook is not much of a surprise enthusiast, but sucks to suck because I am. So, naturally, I took it upon myself to plan a little party in celebration of his birth. Putting my acting skills to use, I tried to be as nonchalant about it as possible the whole of last week. Anytime someone mentioned something even remotely close to birthdays, the subject of the conversation would diverge immediately by my sympathetic nervous system. It's nothing too big, just our friend group and a few of his Kinesiology friends. Still, I want this to be special. For him. 

Jungkook: I think you should come over ;) 

Mira: A dick appointment already? 

Jungkook: I don’t know, can you handle it? 

Mira: I mean, 3 inches should be fine, right? 

Jungkook: … ha ha … very funny. I’ll remember this when I finally get to have you. 

Mira: Who said, you’ll ever have me? 

I can’t help but smile at my screen, I mean it’s pathetic, really. The butterflies in my stomach are not helping the flush rising up my cheeks, as I play the video he sends. Oh God … I knew alcohol and I didn’t go well together but now that idea is solidified as a fact. Looking back at my dumbfounded face is none other than my drunk self from the Winter Formal. The clip is only 5 seconds, but the second-hand embarrassment is enough for me to essentially drink bleach and just cease to exist. 

Jungkook: You did. See. “Jungkook, I want youuu” 

Mira: Ok, so now I’m a victim of blackmail. Good to know. 

Jungkook: I’ll be expecting your cute self at my door in about an hour. 

Mira: Ok dad :( 

Finishing up my makeup I quickly grab my keys and make my way out the door before packing some snacks to go. The bus ride there is only 20 minutes but I fear that the noise my stomach makes from hunger might not be a crowd favourite. Unfortunately, though, I play the role of a broke college student just a bit too well, as two mandarins and some salt crackers end up being my only options. 

--

For it being December, the weather is surprisingly nice. Global warming is in its full effect, I guess. While the glaciers melt away, I get to wear cute fall outfits for another month. So, I stunt my leather knee-high boots, as I finally reach Jungkook’s apartment building. Jimin and him are roommates but both come from pretty financially comfortable families, so this isn’t your usual college student apartment but more like a bachelor studio. Fixing my curls, I tuck the striped sweater into my skirt before knocking on the door. Which opens almost immediately, as Jungkook’s eyes divert down to the boots. 

“Mira …” he says slowly, leaning on the door frame, as a small smirk forms. 

“What?” I snap back confused, nibbling on my lips. 

“You know this wasn't an actual dick appointment right?” he giggles, pulling me inside. 

“YAH, of course, I did,” I yelp, stumbling on my feet as Jungkook’s grip tightens on my waist. 

“Well, you’re looking a bit too good,” he whispers, our lips inches apart as his form moves closer, my back now pressed against the door. 

“Can’t handle it, pretty boy?” I whisper back, looking up at his darkened orbs. 

“Don’t do that,” 

“Do what?” 

“Don’t tease me,” Jungkook’s words slow and breathless as his forehead rests on mine, giving it a soft kiss. The gesture is sweet, but the heat between us is almost suffocating. That is until a familiar voice echoes in the background as the doorknob begins to open. 

“Oh my god!” I yelp, hiding behind Jungkook who was just as dumbfounded. 

“Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Jimin chuckles, placing his bag on the table. 

“I thought you had practice?” Jungkook says abruptly, fixing his dishevelled hair. My face, now red, is virtually buried in his shirt as I try to regain my cool before Jimin calls my name. 

“Yeah, but it ended earlier. Mira? What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, I …” I stutter, replying with more of an expression than words. Jimin is not a threat but he also isn’t aware of whatever Jungkook and I are, so the truth would not be the most suitable answer just yet. Trying to pull something out of thin air, my distressed self is saved by the bell as Jungkook buds in. 

“She was going to help me study,” he says reassuringly before leading us both to the kitchen. I can feel Jungkook's hand on my back as Jimin lets out a big gasp. 

“Wow, so now you're a chef? Mira, I don't know what you're doing to him but please don't stop,” Jimin laughs, shaking his head at the plethora of dishes covering the dining table before diving right in. Sneaking a quick peek at Jungkook sitting across from me, his eyes patiently waiting for my reaction. I can't help but smile as I take a bite out of the steaming shrimp dumplings. My childhood favourite, might I add. 

“Do you like it?” he gently asks, doe eyes sparkling under the kitchen lights. His full attention was on me, so much so that he barely even flinched when Jimin choked on a shrimp tail. 

“I love it,” I reply with a soft smile, giving him a flying chef's kiss. He giggles, finally allowing his body to relax before leaning back on the chair with a proud smile. 

-- 

After cleaning up the table, Jungkook and I decided to go on a walk as Jimin passed out from a food coma with the TV on. Covering him with a blanket, Jungkook turns the system on before wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we head out. It seems that everyone is taking advantage of the warm weather as the beach is more populated than usual. Playing tag with their dad, children's laughter fills up the ambience as their mom takes pictures of the beautiful memories. 

“Do you want kids?” Jungkook suddenly asks, turning his gaze towards my unfazed self who was busy digging for seashells. To be honest, I didn't hear him properly and thought he was asking if I had fears. A miscommunication fiasco fueled by the playful laughter in the background and the fact that I'm half-deaf in my right ear. 

“Yeah, a lot,” I reply with a soft smile, eyes still glued on the mission below me. 

“A lot? Really?” he lets out a chuckle, hands now in his pockets as his body stands still. Feeling the intensity of his stare on me I look up confused, raising an eyebrow. 

“What? Don't tell me you don't,” 

“I mean yeah, but ultimately it would be my wife’s decision,” Jungkook replies softly, looking back at the peaceful beach horizon. 

“Huh? Your wife’s decision?” I repeat, the confusion forcing my attention back to him. What does he mean by his wife’s decision? Trying my hardest to decipher his answer, I begin reading between the lines, hoping to connect the dots between the undertones. Maybe, there’s some kind of metaphor tied into this?

“Yeah, I mean it’s not my body. I’m happy with anything as long as she is healthy and happy,” 

“Jungkook, what are you on?” I snap back, unable to hold back the laughter any longer. 

“What do you mean? You’re the one that wants a lot of kids,” he scoffs, poking the side of his cheek with his tongue. 

“PARDON?? When did I say that?” I yelp, arms now folded in disbelief. 

“I asked you if you wanted kids and you said yeah, a lot” 

“YAH, no I didn't. I thought you said, do you have a lot of fears!” I scoff back before slapping his forearm as his head jerks back from the laughter.

“Thank God, I really thought you were planning on raising a little army,” he smirks before pulling me into his embrace, hands tightening on my waist. As his gaze lowers to my lips, I can feel my cheeks getting red before my hands glide up to his neck. 

“I think I want 3, two boys and one girl,” I say softly, looking up at his darkened orbs. 

“A little princess,” he whispers, before placing a soft kiss on my forehead as I rest my head on his chest. Enjoying each other's warmth we stay like this for a bit longer, looking out at the beautiful sunset. It's times like these that I can't help but give in to my desires, wanting to mute that fear in the back of my head. Jungkook feels safe, I don't know how to explain it, but it's as if our souls mould into one. When I'm with him, everything just makes sense. 

As Tae lights up the last candle on the cake, everyone scatters to find a hiding spot per Jimin's command. Jungkook’s footsteps becoming more and more evident, there is a rising sense of suspense. No one dares to breathe until the doorknob is finally turned and the door swings open. 

“Surprise!!!” 

“FUCK! What the heck!” he shouts, stumbling back as his eyes widen in shock. Feeling everyone's attention on him, his ears begin to redden as Tae and I make our way towards him with the birthday cake. 

“Happy birthday Kookie, now please stop growing,” Tae teases with a boxy smile, putting the Birthday Boy hat on Jungkook who was still in disbelief. Patting his chest, Tae pulls him into a warm hug, as Jungkook’s attention diverts to me. Although no words were exchanged, one look at his furrowed eyebrows was enough for me to understand that he genuinely did not expect any of this. Mission accomplished! To be honest, I felt so bad for making it seem like his birthday was forgotten all these days leading up to the big surprise, that I’m simply relieved it's all over. Unable to hold back a smile, I wait by Jungkook’s side trying to keep the candles from going out, until his attention was back on me. 

“Make a wish, Birthday Boy,” I say softly, looking up at his sparkling eyes. Pulling me closer, Jungkook leans down, scrunching his nose before blowing out the candles as the crowd goes wild. Laughter fills the room once everyone joins in the living room decorated in everything Jungkook-related. From a life-size statue of Iron Man to an entire wall filled with special Polaroids of him and his friends, the Birthday Boy can't help but smile at the wholesome feeling. Holding back his tears as Jimin ushers him towards the couch, Jungkook gasps at the table full of gifts. 

“You guys, this is really too much. You didn’t have to …” he says before his speech was cut short by Jimin, who was already eyeing the bag placed on Jungkook's lap. Both he and Tae, who plopped himself front and center, seemed more curious about this whole unwrapping than Jungkook himself. Nonetheless, reaching his hand into the sparkly green bag, he pulls out a small box. 

“What is it?” Tae asks, moving closer to get a better look. Shaking his head Jungkook opens it, as both of them gasp at the silver Rolex watch staring back at them. 

“YAH, Jimin that’s not fair,” Tae whines, leaning his head back on the couch as Jungkook’s mouth drops. 

“Don’t say anything, you’re worth it,” Jimin winks, patting Jungkook’s head before leaning in for a hug. Despite Jungkook being the youngest in his friend group, it’s rare to see him act like one, so the sight is refreshing and heartwarming, to say the least. 

Making sure everyone was in the frame, I press the timer on the camera before running back to my spot which naturally was beside Jungkook. Looking up at him, his gaze was soft as I wrap my arm around his shoulders, feeling his hand on my waist as Jimin commands everyone to say ‘cheese’ before the flash went off.  

– 

“You know, today might have been my favorite day of the whole year,” Jungkook says softly before melting into the duvet. After saying goodbye to everyone, we cleaned up the place before helping Jimin pack for his camping trip with his teammates. He planned to depart right after the party in hopes of making it there early in the morning, and although I tried to change his mind he was determined. 

“Ok, I’m leaving now,” Jimin says, knocking on Jungkook’s bedroom door. Nodding, we walk him towards the entrance, as I pass him a bag of some leftovers. 

“Please be careful, it’s dark,” I say, as Jungkook leans on the door frame, eyes focused on my worried face.

“I’ll be fine, it’s only 6 hours. I’ll be back by Tuesday. Jungkook please don’t break anything,” Jimin exclaims, giving him a teasing smile as Jungkook rolls his eyes, nibbling on his lip ring. 

“Ha … ha.. call me when you get there,” he says, waving goodbye as he locks the door before turning towards me. 

“It’s late, do you want to stay over or do you want me to drop you off?”

“One more surprise,” I wink, pulling him towards the bedroom. As I place a red bag on his lap, Jungkook can’t help but bite down his lip, trying to suppress the evident excitement. 

“Miraya, you’ve already done so much,” he says softly, looking up at my focused expression before pulling out a film camera with an envelope attached to it. Fidgeting with the seal, Jungkook’s curiosity is on full blast as he moves the three polaroids closer to get a better look under the dim lights. 

“Oh my god …” he whispers, choking on his spit from the disbelief. Recognizing the red lingerie, he glances up for clarification until a gasp escapes his mouth at the sight before him. 

“Happy Birthday, Pretty boy,” I whisper, before moving closer to his dumbfounded self. Although still in shock, his body responds immediately, caressing the soft skin on my thighs before pulling me on his lap. 

“Mira …” he whispers, our lips inches away. Looking at his darkened orbs, I caress the side of his cheek before leaving a soft kiss. 

“You’ve been so patient, baby,” I say, straddling his thighs as he hisses at the sensitivity. Melting in my embrace, he is unable to hold back any longer, flipping us over, as his chains now dangle over my face. 

“Peaches, please let me have you,” he whispers into my ear, voice now breathless. Sucking on my neck, he leaves soft marks of desperate need and desire before looking back at my eyes. 

“Jungkook, I want you,” 

“Mira, I need you,”

As our bodies become one, Jungkook leaves a trail of soft kisses down my neck before reaching the soft material. 

“Wait here,” he says, almost sprinting towards the kitchen before coming back with a can of whipped cream that I used for his birthday cake. 

“Thank you for the meal,” he bows his head, before shaking the can. Unclasping my bra, he tosses it on the floor, taking a moment to fully appreciate the sight in front of him. 

“Stop staring,” I snap, hiding my face under the duvet, feeling the flush in my cheeks. 

“Hard not to when you look this good, Peaches” 

Inches away from my breasts, Jungkook draws small circles with the cream, as I hiss at the cold sensation. Arching my back, he sucks on the sweet taste of my nipples, as his hands caress the soft skin, before leaving a long trace of cream on my stomach. Each taste is followed by a sinful kiss, as purple hues paint my body.   

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[allbark-no-bite]

Silver Fox || Elvis Presley x reader

summary: in which Elvis decides not to dye his hair for once and it makes him that much more irresistible

warnings: mentions of smut, foul language

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: i’m in love with this one. y’all know i can’t resist some good domestic Elvis

I did not come from a kind home. I came from a home with slamming doors and shaking walls and air that was always thick with tension. My parents were turbulent, constantly tipping the scale with weeks of silence and then explosive nuclear rage. So I had always promised myself that I would find a partner who was kind. So that even on the days that love was not enough, there would still be kindness.

I'll always say my life began when I met Elvis. I fell in love with him first for his personality. He was so delicately mild mannered, and yet bursting with life. Even before we had children, he showed me what a real family was, and what ours could be like. 

His parents welcomed me with open arms. It had been the three of them against the world until all the fame, so although their family wasn't large, their bond was strong. I think Gladys was thrilled to have a daughter to dote on as well.

And as they say, a home with kindness breeds quickly. His parents, his cousins, the Memphis Mafia, their children, we all became a family. Our home at Graceland was soon filled with love, large meals, and laughter.

Years passed, and we had kids of our own. It became a problem really, the rate at which we produced children. We had our first baby a few weeks after he was discharged from the army (a last minute visit home had occurred eight months prior).

Eugene had barely begun walking before I was swollen again, six months pregnant with our second boy. Elvis was only twenty, and his career was skyrocketing. Truthfully, I liked to believe it was a blessing that we had started having kids so young. With Elvis' life that involved traveling constantly, and a career that asked for his home life and job to coexist as one, his youth enabled him to have the energy to go from touring one day to wrangling toddlers down for a nap the next. And he did it all with a smile.

We had agreed that after our third child, we were going to put a halt to the baby making—at least temporarily. Three young boys were a lot to handle, even with the help of his family. When it came down to it, our lives were already so busy as it was. We lasted a good eight years before Emily Joe came alone. And then once you have four, you might as well have five.

—

Elvis is lounging with his back against the railing of the porch, white sock clad feet crossed in front of him as he chats with Sonny and Joe. There's a coffee mug in his hand containing tea, an attempt to soothe his throat after a few strenuous weeks of performing. As usual, his casual attire consists of a silky black button up and dark jeans.

The sight makes me smile to myself from the doorway. The colors perfectly compliment his salt and pepper flecked hair, something he had only recently been allowing to show through. At thirty-five, Elvis had started greying much quicker than most, it just didn't show due to him dying it constantly. But with his schedule finally clear of any performances for the next week or so, he'd tossed the boxed dye aside in favor of letting it grow out. Flashes of silver and white lick through his otherwise stark black hair. While the change made him slightly uneasy, I thought it was the most attractive thing in the entire world.

Eventually he looks away from his conversation with Joe and catches me staring. With a bemused smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes, he uncrosses his feet and spreads his thighs, holding out an arm to pull me between his legs.

"What sonofabitch let you outta the house lookin' that pretty?" he teases, his voice low and throaty as he squeezes my shoulder and kisses affectionately into my hair.

I slap his firm chest and am met with solid resistance. "I know you don't kiss your mama with that mouth, Elvis Presley."

We'd been married for over ten years, and he still flirted with me just as much now as he did when we were dating. I'd been smart enough to marry the man for his character and lucky enough to love him for his looks. Elvis was just as good looking as he was in his teenage years, if not even more so. He had aged like fine French wine.

"C'mon, mama. Sweet thing like you carryin' my baby, I'm a lucky man," he purrs.

If I thought Elvis was handsy before, he was ten times worse when I was pregnant. Where ever I went, he always followed close behind, grasping my elbow to steady me or hovering nearby, at the ready for whatever I needed.

I laugh at him, only able to shake my head in response. "You're insatiable."

He had been between my thighs this morning, licking and sucking and nipping until my knees were quivering beside his face. I had to weakly push his head away after I'd come a second time on his tongue. Even afterwards, he had sat me on the bathroom counter top and made me taste myself on his lips.

He passes a hand under the swell of my stomach while leaning down to capture my lips in a gentle but savory kiss. "No, just horny," he whispers, as he pulls away just slightly, blue eyes mischievous, intending his last sentence purely for my own ears.

"Could the two of you at least wait until this one's born before you start makin' the next one," Sonny groans from the other side of the porch. "I've got enough godchildren for the time being."

Cheeks burning, I pull away from our extremely close proximity, but Elvis keeps me trapped between his legs. Joe is chuckling beside Sonny, the rest of the Mafia snickering from their various states of inhabitation on the porch.

Elvis lets out a short huff of a laugh, kicking back again against the railing. "Baby factory is closed," he informs them, running a hand through his silver flecked hair. "Damn kids are turnin' me grey."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You said that after Ernest." As if to prove my point, a scream echos from the yard behind us.

"Daddy!!"

A tiny four year old comes running up the porch steps, her arms held up in the air as she grabs for Elvis. Chestnut colored bangs fall into her round, doll shaped face, which is visibly upset. I was immensely surprised, when after having three children who looked like mirror images of Elvis, Emily took after me.

Before Elvis can even reach out to her, his hands preoccupied with my hips, Red swoops her off of her feet and into his arms.

There came a point after raising all of our kids together for so many years, that we often didn't think twice about who's kid was who's. They all probably thought they were siblings anyhow.

Just satisfied that she's gotten someone's attention, the toddler hiccups while trying to catch her breath. "U-Uncle Red, Eugene is— is bein' mean to Michael."

Back in the yard, the rest of the kids are running rampant in the yard, our dog darting around them as they toss a football. What had started as an organized football game looks to have turned into a squabble between the older boys. They tug on each other's clothes and shove their supposed teammates into the dirt. At the heart of the chaos are the eldest of the Presley children, Eugene and Micheal. The blonde seventeen year old has his feet planted to the ground, the latter's head locked between his elbow with no intention of letting go anytime soon. Michael's hands grab desperately at his brother, his feet scrambling wildly as he tries to escape. Eugene only grips him tighter.

With the pair so close in age, it seemed as though fights were becoming more and more inevitable. The teenagers quarreled like two cats forced to share a box, and fur was sure to fly. They tumbled down stairs and broke glasses and even noses from time to time (Micheal's once perfect button nose was still slightly askew). Elvis had told me a thousand times that it was all in good fun, but it still made me nervous.

One of Joe' boys tumbles into the pair, followed by Ernest, causing Eugene to stagger sideways. The blonde refusing to let go of his brother, Michael is forced along with him. Despite whatever minor argument had likely initiated the petty dispute, neither was giving in.

Back on the porch, Red just chuckles, tutting in pretend disapproval. "Awh, they're just pretendin', Em. You ain't gotta worry about them."

Still slightly distraught, Emily sniffs and wipes her eyes. While the Red and the rest of the mafia just laugh, finding the situation amusing, Emily and I do not.

Hands on my hips, I move to the edge of the porch. "Eugene Presley! Let go of your brother before you hurt him."

At the sound of my voice, the boys' wild flailing comes to a halt; however, Eugene doesn't release Michael just yet. The older boy's blue eyes shift from me to his father standing beside me, as if to gauge how serious I'm being.

Elvis, who had been only mildly concerned before my intervention, chuckles while placing a steadying hand at the small of my back. If it had been up to him, he likely would have allowed them to continue, but he would do anything to dim my worries. "Alright, that's enough. Let 'im go."

The moment Eugene loosens his hold, Micheal is shoving his brother away from him, a disgruntled look on his face. They start for the porch, taking our intervention as their queue to wrap up their game. Both of them look as though they've been drug through the dirt. Micheal's stock of blonde hair is rumpled throughly, and Eugene has a red welp on his cheek.

"Ma, Micheal started it," the boy defends as he reaches a closer earshot, sounding ten years younger than he is.

"DID NOT—," Micheal interjects, his body swiveling back in the other boy's direction,  but Elvis is quick to grab Micheal by the collar of his shirt before another fight breaks out.

He pulls the teenager towards him and wraps a heavy arm around his shoulders. Eugene raises an unamused eyebrow at his brother. "Give it a rest you two," Elvis says, laughing. There was a reason he was the fun parent.

Noticing that one of her brothers now has Elvis' attention, Emily slips out of Red's hold and scampers over to him, holding up her arms once again. "Me too, Daddy," she pleads, her tiny fingers grasping at the air.

Humming in amusement at his little girl, Elvis leans down and scoops her into his arms, emitting an exaggerated grunt as he does so. "I'm gettin' too old for this, little miss."

I rub a hand over my stomach thoughtfully, gazing at my husband fondly. No matter what he thought of himself, grey haired or not, thirty-four or seventy-four, he was still the wide-eyed boy I had married.

With the hand not on my stomach, I ruffle Ernest's hair, who had joined us with the rest of the kids on the porch. At twelve, he was four years younger than Micheal and hadn't become too cool for me just yet. He leans into me, his eyes drooping tiredly. Emily is already asleep in Elvis' arms.

"Alright, everyone," I announce, looking to my two younger kids but addressing everyone. "Time for bed."

Sonny, Joe, and Red, as well as the rest of the Mafia members are long gone, headed off for their respective homes by the time I come down the stairs from putting Emily to bed. She had begged for Elvis to sing to her, but with his voice still strained, I thought it best that he rested.

I find him still on the porch, soaking in the last of the cool evening. Elvis turns when he hears the door close behind me, and a smile overtakes his face. He opens his arms to me, pulling me into his chest once I'm close enough. At least, as close as he can with my growing stomach.

“How’re ya doin’, mama?”

I cup his jaw, my thumb stroking his cheek. His hooded doe eyes gaze at me warmly. "I’m doin’ just fine. How are you?”

Elvis rubs soothing circles into my sides. “Couldn’t be better. I’ve got my family, my beautiful, wonderful, amazing’ wife right here with me—”

I stop him, my thumb brushing over his lips. “That’s not really what I meant. You made a comment earlier... 'bout gettin' old... you know there is not a world in which I do not adore you."

He smiles against my thumb. “The grey really gets you goin’ huh? I meant it when I said the baby factory was closed.”

I laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “That doesn’t mean we can’t practice.”

[gingerminx75]

Consequences. Part 1

With my new shape comes new attention. Catcalls that I never heard before. The hotter weather means shorter shorts and a minimal tank top. I am not dressing for them, I am dressing for me. It appears that the men in my neighbourhood didn’t get that memo. My schedule too tight for me to vary when I run, and not wanting to drive, where I run. It’s safe to say I have become predictable.

The calls are becoming more difficult to ignore. Shouts of, “leave your door open, I know where you live”. Them “accidentally” blocking my path and leaving me stammering as I ask them to move. As I blush and lower my gaze, they laugh at me, reminding me that I am smaller, weaker and regardless of my running, slower.

I return home and while soaking in a nice hot salt bath a see an advertisement on my feed. Women’s self defence classes. This might be exactly what I need. An opportunity to learn how to defend myself and hopefully gain the confidence to put these guys in their place.

Unfortunately the course is not local, but there is a one week condensed program. I can take a week off work, have a mini vacation and return a who new person.

I contact the instructor, he seems a bit aloof, but that should not matter. I just need him to teach me how to defend myself. As a retired LEO, he should have a lot of experience with deviant minds and how they pick their prey.

I pack, excited for my adventure. Shoes, running shorts (but not too short), white tank top and white cotton panties. Just in case the class doesn’t wear me right out I pack a few casual clothes and my favourite little black dress.

My flight was uneventful, arriving in the south it’s a bit warmer than I am used to, but very beautiful. I’m glad I didn’t bring sweat pants, I will sweat enough as it is.

As I was travelling to attend the course, he had kindly offered to pick me up at the airport and take me to my hotel. A short cab ride in the morning and we will begin.

I was pleasantly surprised by his appearance. 6’2, piercing eyes and wonderful broad shoulders. He watched me approach, quietly confident. No smile, yet he didn’t appear displeased. His commitment to fitness was evident. I can only hope my training is as thorough.

I get to bed early, get up, quick shower and a light breakfast. Before I leave my room, I do a quick turn around and like what I see. Simple, comfortable but practical.

I go outside and have to take a few pictures, the landscape, even within the city is so pretty. I am not used to the hills, but it might help my conditioning. I turn to look back at the hotel to see if my cab has arrived, but to my surprise I see my instructor.

He explained to me that the other two participants had canceled, and I could reschedule or train one on one. I couldn’t rationalize travelling and taking time off twice, and while he was slightly intimidating, I really wanted to do this.

I hopped in his car, and after a short while we arrived at his house. With the lack of students, he explained that we would use his garage gym, rather than rent an area. Odd, but logical.

The gym was well setup, primarily free weights, with a few machines. The best part was the wide open door and quietly humming fans that kept the space fresh and comfortable. His house being set back from the road, and nicely treed, we were able to keep music playing and not disrupt the neighborhood.

We quickly got to work. Physical assessment first. Taking my measurements, testing my flexibility. Gently, but firmly assisting me to get the fullest stretch. Next came the weights. Setup so that I wasn’t working to failure, but able to complete ten good reps. Form being more important than moving a heavy load. He explained to me that if I don’t push myself and find out what I’m capable of, I will never know my limitations. That knowing what I can handle is the best way to boost my confidence.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but his “warmup” felt a lot like my workout. A quick break for water while we discussed the day’s workout.

Weights first, then an introduction to hand to hand training. The weights progressively heavier, as I grew tireder. Quickly and sharply corrected, I quickly realized that there was one right way to do things…. His way.

I appreciated the attention to detail, even as some as the criticism stung. I wanted to do well, I just didn’t know what to do. Frustrated with my failures. He didn’t appear to notice, continuing to correct me as he saw fit.

Watching me squat. Nudging my feet into proper position. Slightly wider. Toes out. Correcting the arch in my back with a firm hand. Close enough that his voice sounded like a whisper in my ear. “Yes, that’s it”. “Deeper now”.

That simple affirmation, after so many struggles, felt so good. Re-energized, I wanted more. I wanted his praise. Trying extra hard, legs starting to tremble as I descend. Him gently supporting the weight and allowing me to collect myself. Taking away his support feels like the weight doubled as I rise. The pause at the bottom ruined the momentum. I struggle to return to my start position. This time he allows me to struggle. For the first time, I see a hint of a smile.

I rack the weights and catch my breath. He leads me to the bench press. I assume the position. Feet flat, legs parted. Squared up to the bar. Standing behind me, he helps me unrack the weight. Light enough to not need a spotter yet, he stands and the end of the bench. Watching, guiding me with simple instructions. I’m concentrating on my technique, but distracted by his voice. I like it.

His whole demeanour authoritative, but confident. Self assured, with no need to be cocky. Quite obviously used to giving directions, rather than taking them. We watches me, arms crossed over his chest. Unintentionally showing off those gorgeous arms.

I don’t notice that he is watching me too. Watching both my form and my reactions. Watching my shorts ride up a bit as my back arches. Careful to stay in contact with the bench, unaware that my shorts have adjusted. The white cotton of my panties gleaming against the black silkiness of my shorts. Legs rolling outward, the damp spot on my panties that very likely isn’t sweat.

———-

I finish the set, get up and adjust my clothes. Riding up and exposing more than I’d like. Ready to wrap up for the day, I’m ready to go back to my room and relax.

My day isn’t over yet though, on the drive back to the hotel I receive a stern lecture about the importance of situational awareness. Learning to unconsciously scan my surroundings for threats. Being aware of what is present, and what can hurt me. I have been accused of being naive before. I want to believe that people are not all bad. And that kindness is not weakness.

Back in my room, I slowly strip. Enjoying the tightness of my hard worked muscles. Enjoying the sheen of sweat. Shyly wishing that someone was there to taste it. Running a bath, sipping a glass of wine. Strolling lazily around my room. Not a care in the world.

Morning arrives too early and I am outside and waiting before he arrives. Dreading the workout to come, but looking forward to it at the same time. I expect to see changes in myself by the end of the week. Wondering if anyone else will notice as well.

He picks me up, and today drives in the opposite direction of his home. I enjoy the scenery and wonder where we are off to. He pulls into a gorgeous wooded drive. Parks the car and takes two water bottles from the backseat.

I follow curiously as he walks down the path. His steps longer than mine, I have to run/walk to keep up. No small talk, no wasted energy. A man on a mission, but unwilling to share the plan with me.

We pass the free space area of the park and enter the trail system. Here he gets a bit more talkative. Asking me what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling and telling me to let him know if I get nervous. The last question seems odd. I don’t imagine anyone bothering us, not with his size and demeanour.

Today’s workout involves functional strength. Dead arm hangs from convenient overhanging branches. Some too tall for me to reach. He easily boosts me up and helps me down.

Hill climbing, wind sprints, pushups and skip rope. Oddly thrilled with the praise for something especially well done. The day is hard, but enjoyable. The sunshine, the dedicated attention of someone willing to help me grow better and stronger.

He seems very concerned for my comfort, always checking in to make sure that I am okay. Making sure that I am not afraid. As the day draws on, he seems almost frustrated with my answers. I’m not afraid, I am enjoying the adventure. I’m learning, I am growing and I am having a great time. This day is everything I wanted and more.

We stop to break a water break and sit in a lightly shaded clearing. I take a moment to rub a cramp out of my shoulder. I’m beginning to feel the effects of the past days’ efforts. He suggests that I sit up straight, back against the tree. Reaching my arms up high above my head. He stands in front of me, awkwardly close. Taking both my wrists in one hand and helping me stretch. It feels so good as the tension rises, then is released.

One more stretch he says, this time raising me to my feet. Arms up stretched above my head. Pulling me onto my tip toes. When I expected him to of release the pressure and let me down, he asked once more, “what are you feeling?”, “are you afraid?” I answer again, “I am nervous, but safe. I feel safe with you”.

Instead of reassuring him, I see a flash of anger across his face. He grips my wrists tighter and lifts me, dangling from his grip. He leans into me, pressing my body against the rough bark of the tree. Whispering in my ear, “you don’t understand, it’s me you should be afraid of”.

[eddiernunson]

Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Really Drives Me Mad Part 7 coming on Christmas Day

Word Count of Preview: 1.3k

Chapter contains: Wedding shenanigans.

NOW POSTED

Preview:

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect your wedding to be so soon,” Skyler admits, in the middle of chewing on a salt and vinegar chip, some in her hand in queue to be chomped on next.

You keep your eyes on the movie playing snacking on a peanut M&M, watching Amanda Bynes’ truly unmatched comedic timing. “I am not spending a whole year of wedding planning,” you protest, throwing another chocolate into your mouth, “my mom is far too opinionated for me to be able to handle all of that fuss.”

“Well, you still need to find a dress…” Bethany points out, taking a hit off her vape pen. “And a caterer, someone to marry you, and a wedding photographer, decorate the venue—”

“We have invited close family and friends only.” You remind her, rolling her eyes. “If anything, the reception will turn into one big dance party. Hell, we’re ordering pizza. I don’t need a fairytale wedding. Having him has made my life a fairytale already.”

“Gross.” Skyler comments, sticking her tongue out at you playfully.

“I think it’s cute.” Bethany offers, grinning.

“Also, I might have already decided on a dress.” You hesitantly say, turning your head around and up at them to see their reactions. They collectively stop what they’re doing to scream at you for it. The gist of their uproar was mostly how they weren’t invited to the time you spent looking, but this dress was a happy accident by every definition.

“You found a dress?”

You shrug, pausing the movie so it’s not such a distraction for the conversation. “Yeah…”

The first time Eddie gave you his card and sent you to the mall for him, you were anxious about holding his money and only spent it on things he explicitly said he had wanted.  The entire trip took about an hour, getting home and holding a few bags as you entered the front door. Eddie leapt from the couch, grinning wickedly as he met you in the kitchen. He held your hands as he smirked at you. “How was the shopping trip?”

“Good.” You answered, moving to your purse on the counter to hand him his card.

He put it in his wallet hurriedly, wanting to get back to you. “What’d you get?” He asks, starting to look through the bags.

“I found everything you asked for except for the socks, apparently they’re discontinued.” You answered, leaning onto the island counter.

Eddie’s face falters only the littlest bit, shrugging. “Damn, gonna have to find a new favourite pair then.” He looked through every bag one by one, seemingly looking for something he couldn’t find. “What’d you get?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding what he meant. “Um, everything but the socks?”

Eddie’s face broke into laughter, hands snaking themselves around your waist. “Yes, baby, but what did you get for yourself?” His voice was so gentle, smiling at you fondly with a gorgeous lobsided smile on his face.

“Oh, um, nothing…” you answered, eyes flickering to the ground. “It’s your money.”

A hand made its way onto your cheek, intertwining his fingers in your hair. His lips landed on yours, taking your breath away with how dreamy and dizzy it made you feel. As he pulled apart, your knees were weak, mouth half open as you stared up at him in pure bewilderment. After you were able to catch your breath, you finally asked, “What was that about?”

He smiled at you tenderly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’re just so sweet, my love,” he muses, beautiful brown eyes roaming all over your face. “Sweetheart, you have a ring on your finger. If we’re about to get married, then my money is your money.”

A frown sat on your face, thinking over what he just told you, eyes fleeting all over his hardwood floor. “But…I don’t, I don’t want, I don’t want—”

He hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your chin to look up at him. “I know you don’t want it.” His other hooked around your back, pulling your body against his. “However, I do want to share it with you, just like I want to share everything else.”

You smiled at him, sighing as his hand caressed the swell of your cheek, leaning into it. “I just don’t want you to think I’m with you for any other reason than how much I love you.”

“And how hot you find me, hmm?” He teased, eyes half lidded.

You rolled your eyes playfully, hands petting the nape of his neck. “Of course.” Eddie gave you a big kiss, lips wrapping yours, making you feel only bliss. “So, if I take your card to Sephora and buy a palette I’d had my eye on, you wouldn’t protest?”

Eddie sighed, sticking his tongue out in his true fashion. “You could buy the whole damn store as long as you’re happy.”

You squinted at him, lips pursed as you assessed his gorgeous face. “…How much do you have in savings?”

He smiled, tilting his head playfully. “Enough.” He said, twisting his face comically. “Maybe not enough to buy the whole store, but enough to shop comfortably.”

With his blessing, you started to feel something like a trophy wife on the occasional mall trip. Holding his black card as you swipe it unflinchingly at a large bill is so satisfactory as you see the glint of jealousy of the cashier’s eyes.

On your most recent outing, grabbing groceries and making stops at your favourite stores as you browsed, a little boutique in the corner of the mall caught your eye. You’ve never seen it before, a deserted area of the mall that has incredibly niche stores that mostly look like a storefront for a ring of some type. In the very corner is a sweet little boutique with hand made clothes, the kind of clothing one doesn’t come across very often anymore, all made with care with high quality fabric…but not at a designer price.

A dress with embroidered flowers around the skirt caught your eye in the window, and there were only cuter clothes in the store. With several hangers of clothing on your hand, the corner the store comes into view, and the prettiest white dress you’ve ever seen.

As soon as your size was in your grasp, you giddily ran off to the change room. Your reflection stared back at you, a pretty girl in a beautiful white dress. Your eyes welled up in bridal glory.

All for 85 dollars. (Well, that’s not the whole bill, just the dress.)

Your eyes flicker back to your friends, shrugging. “It just happened.”

“How far is Hawkins, exactly?” Bethany asks, leaning on her elbow on her legs crossed.

“A few states away.” You answer, pressing play on the movie again.

“You’re only inviting close family, right?” Skyler asks.

“Yeah, and you guys and Steve’s family.”

Bethany tilts upside down on the couch, feet resting on the pillows as she watches the movie upside down. “I’m sorry, who’s Steve again?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you guys ever listen to what I say?” They shrug, looking at you expectantly. “He’s Eddie’s best friend.” Still, their looks are completely blank. “You remember the photo I showed you of Eddie? He was the one on the left.”

Their eyes both noticeably bug out of their sockets. “Oh, you lucky bitch.” Skyler chuckles, definitely remembering the one of the left.

You roll your eyes, again. “He’s happily married, you dicks.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it” Bethany accuses, knowing you too well, if you had anything to say about it.

The hesitation says everything. “Okay, maybe once or twice.” You admit, avoiding their eyes. “But again, he is happily married, and frankly unrealistic. Plus, he might be my sister’s father-in-law,” you joke, mostly hoping there’s no truth behind it.

 “Okay, this I gotta hear.” Bethany giggles, leaning in with much intrigue.

-

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Y'all I'm so excited.

[one-idea]

Spades in Thriller Bark part 2

The fight with Ora and the arrival of Kuma

Moria joins Ora

Moria tells them that if they win he will release all the shadows.

Zoro send Usopp to go get more salt and Moria tells Ora to destroy the door and Usopp. Chopper and Deuce take off after Usopp, he’s going to need a doctor after a hit like that

But the hit doesn’t land as Brook arrives just in time to save Usopp and bring them enough salt to win

The fight continues on but with Moria there they are struggling more than ever. He turned their attacks against them, being able to fire back anything they throw at him.

Franky

Usopp launches Franky at Ora only for Frabky to get knocked back down to earth. Nami shows up just in time to save him but when Ora attacks her it reveals that Ora can now stretch like Luffy.

Franky has been taken out of the fight.

Brook and Skull

Brook asks for them to launch him next. They do so firing him like and arrow. Nami using her clim-a-tact to give him an electric charge. The attack lands but puts Brook in an awful position.

Skull runs over to help the bone man only for both of them to be hit by Ora. They are down and out of the fight.

Robin and Mihar

Robin realizing that if she attacks Moria then Ora can’t stretch does so. Mihar realizing her plan lines a shot uo with Moria and takes it. The shot hits the warlord dead on.

For a second they believe that they have won.

But then Moria appears behind Robin and Mihar. He slaps Mihar away taking him out of the fight and steals robins Shadow, knocking her out.

Chopper, Sanji, Zoro, and Deuce

Chopper approaches Deuce while all of this was happening and the two doctors get to work on examining Ora’s body while Moria is distracted. They yell out their findings to the others. Realizing that the body, while expertly repaired, is still damaged and they might be able to permanently break it. If they can hit it in the right spots.

Ora moves to crush the two doctors. Chopper shapeshifts into a smaller size to escape. Deuce grabs a lock of the giants hair and uses it to swing to the other side.

Chopper then leads the charge and Sanji jumps up to help him. They hit Ora’s shoulder hard, but not hard enough. The giant jumps into the air and attacks the two of them, finishing them off.

Zoro tells Usopp to get ready. That he would make an opening. He attacks with all that he has and makes a pretty good dent. But it’s not enough Moria still lands a devastating blow to Zoro, taking him out of the fight.

At the same time the movement causes Deuce to lose his grip sending him flying. But he’s able to see Usopp shooting salt into Ora’s mouth. ‘At least it’s over.’ He thinks as he’s sent hurtling away from the castle and braces to hit the ground. This is going to kill him.

Except someone catches him.

With Ace and Luffy.

Both Ace and Luffy had chased after Moria. But the man is tricky and was able to split them up. Luffy chasing after Moria’s shadow while Ace tracked Moria.

Ace was about to catch up with the man. Moria had made his way back into the castle and Ace was right on his heals. Only to come face to face with Kuma.

Kuma had just finished his meeting with Moria, turned to see Ace. He told Moria he would take care of Whitebeard’s commander, Moria could focus on the straw hats.

Ace is furious. Why is there another warlord here and why is he helping Moria to destroy Luffy’s crew? It doesn’t matter, he’d fight anyone to keep his brother and their friends safe. He’s trusting Luffy and the crew to handle Moria. He’ll handle Kuma.

It’s a brutal fight. Kuma can’t touch Ace (he could with Haki but the man’s not trying to hard) but he’s also too fast for Ace to burn. It’s a stalemate.

Well not totally as Kuma is pushing Ace further from the castle.

While they are fighting he tells Ace something that will haunt him. “Blackbeard said he used to be under your command.”

“How do you know Teach?” Ace asked enraged. But he was trying to cover his fear. If Teach showed up now he has no idea what they would do. They were already spread so thin between two warlords.

“He was just inducted as a warlord.” Kuma reveals making Ace’s world halts. No. This can’t be. Ace knew Teach was trying to impress the government by killing Luffy, but he hadn’t thought that this would be his goal. And if this was his end goal, who did he get instead of Luffy? What did he do to get that title?

He’s about to ask when he hears screaming coming from above. He looks up just in time to see Deuce hurtling through the air. He doesn’t think before he flys up to catch his best friend.

Deuce opens his eyes to find that he didn’t hit the ground. No he’s very much still in the air. But this time he’s up in the air because Ace is holding him tightly in his arms.

Deuce looks up to see his captain (because Ace will always be his captain) haloed by his own flames. His freckled face close to Deuce’s own, asking if Deuce is okay, while holding him in a bridal carry.

Deuce, who prides himself on his words, for he is a writer after all, has no words to speak.

He is saved from having to respond by Kuma jumping up to hit them. Ace cuts off his own flame causing them to fall and avoid Kuma’s attack. Once they land they hear a loud boom coming from the castle.

Nightmare Luffy has arrived. Kuma turns his attention towards that fight and almost hums. “It seems Moria and Strawhat have finally clashed.” He then turns to Ace and Deuce. “Another time.” He says before disappearing.

Ace tenses until he realizes that Kuma is gone. Then he realizes the only place Kuma would go was towards Luffy. He picks Deuce back up and the two shoot off towards the fight. Deuce quickly trying to catch Ace up with what has been happening.

They get there just as all the shadows leave Nightmare Luffy. It’s a disturbing image to walk in on but at least Luffy is okay. And they are together to face one of the two warlords currently on the island.

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 6

You meet up with Santi, again, about your news, and it goes much better than last time. Also, your friends are the best people you know.

Warnings: Mentions of being sick, so emetophobia warning. Abortion mentions (I am personally pro-choice). An awful lot of dialogue. Reader refers to her friends as 'guys' and Courtney refers to her as 'dude' at one point, and 'girl'. Swearing. I'm from the UK so I'm not 100% sure what happens in America regarding doctor/midwife appointments, but from what I've researched, it looks a little similar, so I'm going to try and be as accurate as I can moving forward. This hasn't been my favourite chapter so far, it's mostly been just a filler. Slightly proofread. Word count: 2,833 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Part 5 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 7

These are your texts. These are your friend's texts. Initials will be at the start of each text in the GC.

You both agreed to meet back at the coffee shop after work. You made the effort to finish at a regular time, that your clients could wait until after the weekend. Nothing huge was coming up for a while, so you had the time to relax, just a bit.

Which reminded you, you needed to organise something with your friends. You haven’t contributed to the group chat for nearly a week, and they’d been texting you separately to see if you were okay, and you’d been overly short with them.

You walked through the door of the coffee shop, looking around before your eyes land on Santi sat in a corner, looking at something on his phone. You take a moment to just check him out.

You’ve said it once, and you’ll say it again (probably forever), he was still so good-looking. Even with the nervous energy he had, he still made your heart skip a beat. He looked like he hadn’t shaved for a few days, his beard matching his mixture of black and salt and pepper curls. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt, and jeans. You didn’t understand how someone who could dress so simply could still look so well put together.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way over to him. He looks up from his phone, his eyes widened as you approached the table. You gave him as small smile as you approached.

“Hey, thanks for meeting me,” Santi greeted you, standing from his seat and motioning to the empty seat opposite him.

“Thanks for reaching out,” you said, sitting down and placing your bag by your feet. He nervously sat back down, wiping his palms on his well-fitted jeans, a cappuccino and an iced latte already in front of him. You melted at the fact that, despite how badly your last meeting ended, he still remembered what drink you had in front of you.

“How are you doing today, are you doing all right?”

You huff out a small laugh. “Well, I threw up about ten times today, I think it might be a new record for me. I’m bloated and constantly hungry…” you bite your lip as you saw him avert his gaze awkwardly, his hands still rubbing against his jeans. You sighed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to rant. I’m fine.”

Santi nodded. “I’m sorry again about how I reacted on Sunday.”

You shake your head at him. “Really, you don’t have to say you’re sorry – “

“I said some not very nice things and it’s been playing over and over in my head, and it wasn’t right.”

You hesitated for a moment before you nodded. “What you said was kind of uncalled for. But I get it. I just threw this bombshell on you.”

“It doesn’t excuse it. I’d take it back if I could. Or never say it at all, because that’s not what I think of you.”

You nod at him before picking up the iced latte. “You’re forgiven. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Santi nodded, his hands finally stilling on his thighs. “Okay. Yeah.”

You take a sip of your coffee. It was a little stronger for what you would order usually, but you appreciated the effort. You take a deep breath and swallow nervously. “I know it's a lot to take in, but I think we need to figure out how we're going to handle this.”

Santi’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave a subtle sigh of relief at you bringing up the elephant in the room. “Yeah, I agree. Have you made any decisions yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Well…I've been doing some research, and I’m leaning towards keeping it. I did look into terminating. But I’m not sure yet.”

Santi gave a single nod. “Okay.” he rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, what role do I play in this? Do you want me to be involved, or what?”

“That's entirely up to you. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with.”

Santiago went quiet, reaching over for his coffee and taking a sip. You both sat there in silence for a few moments, just drinking your coffees as you take in your situation.

You didn’t want to push him. You really appreciated that he reached out to you to talk to you about this, to get his input. If he wanted to be child free, then you could come up with some sort of agreement, where he wasn’t involved and wouldn’t have to pay child support. He could sign away his parental rights before the baby even arrived.

Or you could terminate, like you had looked into.

You shake the thought from your head. You have your first appointment with your doctor next week, you could explore your options then.

“Have you told anyone you’re pregnant yet?”

You were surprised by the question, merely because you weren’t expecting that to be his next one. You shake your head. “No. Have you?”

“No.” Santi placed his now empty coffee mug on the table. “You’re one hundred percent sure you are?”

You nod. “I took four tests, and they were all positive. I have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday to confirm, but it’s more of a formality thing. And to get me on the books.”

“Yeah. Okay. Right.” Santi frowns at you. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Your breath hitches at the question as you suddenly felt exposed…stunned, and honestly, you felt a slight lump in your throat. You swallow nervously as you avert your gaze for a moment before you look back up at him. You didn’t think to ask. You assumed he wouldn’t want to go. But, really…you didn’t want to go alone. “If you wanted. You don’t have to decide now. But I would appreciate it if you could be there for emotional support.”

Santiago nodded. “I can do that, I’ll be there.”

“I appreciate that. And we can talk about a DNA test to confirm the paternity, if that’s something you want to do.”

Santi was already shaking his head. “No, I believe you. I don’t…we don’t have to do the paternity test.”

Your breath hitches slightly, tears finally filling your eyes. “Okay. Thank you.” You place your half-drunk coffee on the table before you lean forward. “I know this isn't what either of us planned, but I'm glad we're able to have an open and honest conversation about it.”

“I never thought I would be in the position,” Santi said. “Someone telling me that I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Never pictured yourself settling down?” you asked, sniffing as you wiped at your eyes. You pick up your drink again, finding you needed something to do with your hands, and take a large gulp.

“No. Not with work, or my lifestyle,” Santi replied. “Was never in the cards for me.”

You nod, understanding. “I get it. With my dating life, I didn’t think it would happen with me either.” You both settle into an awkward silence. You finish your drink and place it down on the table before clearing your throat. “So, the doctor’s appointment is after work, at five-thirty, do you want me to text you the address?”

“I can come and get you after work, if you want,” Santi replied.

You weren’t expecting that. “Oh, really, it’s okay. It’s a little out of your way – “

“I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be taking my car to work anyway, so…”

After a few moments, Santiago nodded. “Okay then. I’ll just meet you there.”

You gave him a small smile before grabbing your bag and standing, digging through it for your purse as Santiago quickly after you. “How much do I owe for coffee?”

Santi waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I – “

“I’m sure you paid for mine on Sunday when I stormed out.”

You gave him a look before continuing to dig through your bag. “I insist, Santi.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. I got you pregnant, so the least I can do is get your coffee.”

You look at him, seeing him raise his eyebrow at you and give you a pointed, unamused look. You sigh before closing your bag, giving him a small smirk. “Fine.”

He walks you out and down the block to your car, making small talk about work and how well the launch went, since you mentioned it on your date.

“It went great. I threw up during the big speech. Emily followed me to the bathroom.”

Santi groaned. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

You shake your head. “She hasn’t said anything to me, but I think she knows something is going on.”

“I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” muttered Santi, causing you to giggle as you reach your car.

You turned to Santi, giving him a smile. “Thanks again for…this. I really didn’t know what I was going to do.” You unlock your car before opening the door. You turn to look at him. “See you on Wednesday?”

“See you on Wednesday.”

You don’t hug. You don’t kiss. You don’t even shake hands. You just stare at each other for a moment before you climb into your car, giving him a small wave as you start it and back out of the space, driving away. You watch him for a moment in your rearview mirror, seeing him standing, watching you drive for a few seconds before he turns and walks away.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Why was that so awkward? The guy had seen you naked, had sex with you, and got you pregnant. Surely you were past the awkward stage in your not-relationship? You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. It was probably awkward because you were pregnant with his child. You barely knew each other.

Maybe he just needed a few more days for it to sink in. He hadn’t been around you much, after all, since you announced you were carrying his child.

You arrive back to your apartment, biting your lip as you stare at your phone screen, contemplating telling him you got home okay. Was that a bit forward? He might need just a bit of space after your meeting. You decide against texting him.

You get yourself out of your work clothes and into your comfiest pyjamas, slipping your feet into the fluffiest socks you own. You made your way into your kitchen, intending to heat up some leftovers, not really feeling like cooking much tonight. You turn on your oven, waiting for it to heat up.

You meander out of the kitchen, grabbing your phone from its place still in your bag, seeing that your group chat has been a little active since you left work to meet up with Santi. It wasn’t anything important, just your friends talking about their days. Gabrielle was dealing with two kids with chicken pox, and Beth’s newest client was being a nightmare and difficult. Courtney had offered her usual down to Earth responses, both in support of her friends.

You smiled. You wondered what they would say when they found out you were pregnant.

You. The perpetually single friend.

You type out a quick text, telling them exactly what was happening before you delete it all, and rewrite it. You stood there for a full ten minutes, contemplating letting them know what’s been going on over text. You should tell them in person. These were your girls, your family. They deserved better.

Sorry I have been MIA ladies. Been going through some stuff.

You sigh as you send the message in the group chat. It was simple and kept to the point.

It wasn’t long until you got a response.

B: Jesus, finally. Thought you’d died. You okay?

G: Do you need anything? I can come by tomorrow and drop some stuff off for you.

C: Glad you’re okay.

I’m okay, thanks guys. Is everyone free next weekend? We could have lunch somewhere.

G: I’ll see if I can get a sitter. Matthew is away with his brother for their cousin’s bachelor party.

B: I am free. I have something to ask you guys about the wedding.

G: Bridesmaids!?

B: You’ll just have to wait and see.

C: I’m free after 1pm. Got a work thing.

B: On a Saturday?

C: Rude, not all of us are our own boss.

B: Shut up.

Great, I can book a late lunch on Saturday. 2pm good for everyone? I’ll take a look at what’s available if not.

G: I’ve heard Bella Cucina is good, not sure if they’re open for lunches though.

They’re not, just the evenings. That’s where I went for my date with Santiago.

C: Lol.

You sent a not-very-ladylike emoji to Courtney before telling them you’ll send them lunch details when you can. You snort at Courtney’s not-so-ladylike reply back with a similar emoji before she sent you a message privately.

So, what’s going on? Did you take a pregnancy test?

You bit your lip. You appreciated that she asked you separately from the group chat, but you also wanted everyone to know what you were going through in person. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust her, Courtney wouldn’t breathe a word of it, but you just weren’t sure what was going to happen in the next few weeks. But you know that if you don’t say something now, Courtney will be suspicious. You could lie, but it would seem silly to.

You just had to bite the bullet. With Courtney anyway.

I did.

You immediately put your phone down, the panic rising in your throat. You did it. You were ‘publicly’ acknowledging your pregnancy to someone to wasn’t Santiago. You busied yourself with your almost forgotten leftovers, putting them in the oven and setting a timer. You went to your bathroom, took off the day’s make up, and placed on a face mask. You set up your couch, where you planned to plant yourself and watch Netflix all night, ignoring your phones constant chimes of Courtney’s messages.

You pottered around a bit more, closing your curtains, putting away your clothes, and cleaning up a few dishes you had left out that morning. You removed the face mask and moisturised your skin before finally going back to your phone.

And? Are you pregnant?

Come on, you can’t just throw that on me and disappear.

Seriously. Are you pregnant or not!?

I know you’re doing this on purpose, you haven’t just put your phone down and got distracted by something else!

You’re not subtle.

Girl, if you don’t answer your phone!!!!!

When she sent you your full name in capital letters, you thought it best to reply.

I’m pregnant.

Holy shit. How are you feeling?

Life has been a little upside down. I’ve been dealing with it.

Does Santiago know?

Yeah, it’s why I’ve been MIA. It’s been a challenge.

Fuck, dude, are you okay?

It’s fine. Well, it will be fine. I have an appointment on Wednesday with my OB, Santi will be there. So he says. I won’t blame him if he changes his mind, it’s not exactly an ideal situation.

Are you keeping it?

You hesitated, because you didn’t know how to answer that. You obviously took too long to answer because Courtney rang your phone. You took a few seconds to answer it. “I don’t know if I’m going to keep it.”

“Is it because of Santiago?”

“Well, partly. It’s his foetus too.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “And other factors. Obviously. Money. My living situation. Work. It’s all just…overwhelming.”

“You know we won’t judge you for what you choose to do, right?” Courtney said. “Is that what lunch is about next week? You don’t have to say anything to the others if you decide not to keep it, don’t feel pressured to let the others know.”

You try to hold back tears, sucking in your lips and biting down on them before you take a shaky breath. “I know.”

“We’ll be here for you, whatever you need. Do you need me there on Wednesday?”

“No, really, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay…you know Andy is a cop, right, he knows how to hide a body where no-one will find it if Santiago fucks you over.”

You let out a watery laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I know. But Santi’s a good guy.”

“The offer is there.”

Your timer goes off in your ear, causing you to flinch. You turn it off, before finally telling Courtney that you had to go, you were about to have dinner. You told her you would tell her all about the week you’d had another time, and that you would keep her updated on anything regarding the baby, and/or Santiago. She told you that she would always be available for you. You both hang up.

In that moment, you knew you’d be okay. You’d be fine. No matter what happens with the baby and Santi, at least you had your friends. And that was all you needed.

Tagged - @khonsulockley

[zmediaoutlet]

An hour. The ruler of hell and the most powerful witch in the world and an angel that’s been a god and the literal creator of the universe waiting in the wings and with all that, Sam’s brother says, “You can give me five minutes, huh? Take a number,” and grabs Sam by the elbow and walks them both out into the bunker halls and into a room and slams the door, and holds his hand against it like all that power could be kept out, and blows out a breath, and says, “God.”

An hour, ticking down. Sam stands still with Dean’s fist still wrapped in his sleeve and takes him in. His head bent, his eyes tight at the corners with the pain of whatever’s happening. His body seared by power. Not the first time. Not the—

“God,” Dean mutters, and then shakes his head. “Gotta stop saying that when he’s right down the hall.” He puts his fingertips to his chest. Grimaces. “Guess that won’t be a problem, huh?”

Sam should say something. Nothing’s adequate.

This is one of the spare rooms. An unmade bed and a bare desk. Dean made a crack when they’d moved in, after things were better between them, about how they ought to christen every room in the place, complete with waggling eyebrows and a significant glance below Sam’s belt. They didn’t make it very far, and never made it in here. It smells like dust, basements. Unliving things.

“Sammy,” Dean says. “Sam. I’ve got to.”

Sam closes his eyes, reflex, and then opens them again immediately because he isn’t—he can’t check out, he doesn’t want to, he needs every second of this that he can get. When they have time, for once. When they at least got some warning.

Dean’s watching him. Not nervous. Of course, he wouldn’t be. He just looks sort of—tired, and like it hurts, in that way Dean looks where he knows it’s going to hurt for a long time and he’s just got to deal with it until he can put it down. Like he’s waiting for Sam to catch up, but that’s not fair because Sam gets it. He doesn’t have to like it.

“You here?” Dean says, and Sam says, “Where else would I be.” Dean nods, this little jerky thing, and then pulls Sam in by his jacket and puts his face in Sam’s throat and his grip hurts on Sam’s ribs, his hip, the middle of his spine. Pulling in with nowhere to settle. Sam curls in—over Dean’s shoulder, and it feels strange, when Dean’s always trying to reach up and pull Sam down to him like Sam’s still actually the little brother. He holds the back of Dean’s neck. His skin hot with the trapped power but not so much that Sam can’t touch him.

“I’ve got to,” Dean says. Very quiet, warm against Sam’s collarbone. Sam knows but he can’t—he puts his lips to the top of Dean’s head, smells the long day there. Sweat and that hair wax crap he pretends he doesn’t use and the shampoo they’ve been buying forever and his skin. Salt, warm. This last year, they’ve shared beds about half the time, and Sam’s met the day in sheets that smelled just like this, and had Dean’s skin under his hands just like this, and he’d thought—if it were like this, for what days they had left, he could handle just about anything. He could manage.

Through the door, from somewhere down the hall: Time to go, hero.

“Why did we invite Crowley,” Dean mutters.

He pushes back from Sam’s chest. Still in pain and not complaining. Settled, that way he always is when there’s a job to do and he’s the one to do it and there’s no other choice, so it might as well get done. When Sam was a kid it made him furious. Now there’s just this—tight horror in his chest with nowhere to go. An hour, less now, and there’s nothing—he can’t say anything and he can’t do anything and he doesn’t know, after, what life will be worth living, in this place that smells like dust.

“Guess I’ll drive,” Dean says. His cheek sucks in on one side and then he gives Sam this one-sided smile. One of those things Sam’ll remember on his deathbed. Dean, trying to make it okay.

“Could let Cas try,” Sam says. It cracks a little but so what.

Dean scoffs. “Not even when I’m dead,” he says, and prods Sam in the chest. “Making that part of the will. Cas is not allowed behind the wheel, okay. You guard those keys with your life.”

“Understood,” Sam says. Dean smiles at him, barely wider. Then Dean reaches up on his toes and kisses him hard and fast and painful with their teeth pressing through their lips, for two searing seconds that end when Dean drops back to his heels and lets out a quick breath and opens the door and shouts down the hall, “All right, all right, let’s get this over with,” and Sam’s lips throb, and Dean disappears through the doorway into the bright hall, and the bottom drops out of Sam’s chest. He understands. How impossible the next fifty-five minutes will be. How he will have to live through them, anyway. And then, after that—