#no wonder neil caught his eye

[theseyellowdays]

I think that Bee gained Andrew's trust bc she was more fascinated in the fucked up-ness than determined to be the one to make it better. Andrew had gone through 12 therapists before Bee, how many of those do you think took him on just so they could say they were the ones to "fix" this teenage nightmare with a wrap sheet longer than his pint size body? Or bc they were obsessed with creating a happy ending to the sob story they were horny to unveil? Andrew doesn't need someone to tell him what to do. He's tried of people thinking they can dictate his life bc they think he's incapable of doing it himself. He is a tank of self-control let out in calculated increments through conniving schemes 7 steps ahead and too soaked in blood for anyone else to even consider. "Help" is the last thing Andrew will tolerate from anyone — least of all someone naive about the world and in a position of authority over him. But fascination on the other hand. In Bee I think he sees someone who is willing to play the long game and who is genuinely more interested in who Andrew is than the traumatic events that led to his more abrasive tendencies. He sees an equal and that understanding is the only thing I can see holding Andrew's attention, his respect, and his begrudge willingness to take her suggestions into consideration

[mypoisonedvine]

the stalker neil gifs oh mmmmy god. he just can't HELP but give desperate dark best friend/nearby acquaintance even who is obsessed with you

oh we love a little stalker moment c:

warnings: panty stealing and sniffing, male masturbation, public(ish) sex, b&e, brief breeding kink, cnc kink (so basically it's dark!neil)

He didn't even have the patience to get home; he had to find a quiet, shadowy part of the park on his walk back, and just take a peek at the panties in his pocket.

A heavy sigh deflated his chest when he got a peek, his head falling back and his eyes shutting tight. They were just so cute, and he'd thought about them basically 24/7 since he saw them the first time.

He was lucky enough to say that the first time he saw this particular pair, it was on you. He still liked to tell himself that you'd wanted him to see them, or you wouldn't have bent over while wearing such a short skirt. Sure, he'd sort of... bent down, a lot, to see them, but... it was worth it. Just the edge of that lavender lace, tight against your skin-- he'd almost lost it right there in the middle of his own store. He made a promise to himself to get his hands on those-- it was the next best thing to getting his hands on you, which at the moment felt totally unattainable.

He was still high on the shame, on the anxiety of risking being caught-- using the key under your mat to get into your place and take these from the hamper. His heart hadn't stopped racing since then, but he thought it might just give out when he looked down at the fabric in his hands.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, before biting his lip, searching through the lace until he found the little thin part that would've covered your pussy; he groaned out loud when he saw the little stain, partially translucent and partially white... he gently ran his thumb over it, before giving in to his worst desires and bringing the garment to his face for a long, deep inhale.

His knees went weak-- and, obviously, his cock was rock hard in an instant. You smelled so goddamn perfect, he never wanted to breathe anything else again.

"Christ," he mumbled to himself as he tried to open his belt and jeans with one hand-- but it didn't really work, so he had to regretfully take the panties away from his face to get his cock out. He glanced around the park quickly, making sure that he was alone... thankfully, no one was going to be out at this time of night. "Christ, fuck, I need to jerk off-- fuck, see what you do to me?"

He sighed with relief when he wrapped around his cock, relieving some of the pressure that he felt like had been building since he started walking to your place. Slowly, he stroked himself with one hand and held the dirty panties to his face with the other.

"Baby, you smell so good," he panted under his breath, stroking himself a little faster. "God, you must taste fucking perfect-- you must have the most gorgeous fuckin' pussy--"

He was gasping for air, struggling not to moan just from how sensitive he'd become. He realized that he wouldn't last long at all, not when he could so easily imagine you getting wet and staining these cute panties because you'd caught him looking at you.

"Knew you fucking wanted it," he chuckled to himself. "Little tease. Fuck."

As his breaking point approached rapidly-- and thank god for that, the less time spent jerking off in public, the better-- he had the most awfully wonderful idea. Helpless to it, he instantly wrapped the lace around his length and gasped as he watched his cock buck forward into them.

"F-fuck," he moaned weakly, desperately thrusting into the haphazard ball of fabric. "G'na come, shit, want it inside you baby? Want me to fuckin' knock you up?"

In that moment, he figured the normal thing to do would be to imagine you begging him for it, desperate for a creampie, desperate to be bred. And it's not that that idea didn't appeal to him-- but the 'normal thing to do' was sort of beside the point now, he'd already broken into your house, stolen your panties, and was jerking off with them in a public park at two in the morning. So, after a night of sex crimes, he couldn't help but imagine one more. He pictured you begging him not to-- scared and helpless, legs flailing to try to kick him away.

He'd never really pictured it quite like that before, holding you down and forcing you to take his load. But now that he finally let himself think of it, the image instantly brought on his orgasm-- and he came harder than he probably ever had before. He moaned pathetically, knees all but buckling, hand a numb blur as he voraciously stroked himself through it. He came onto the ground, mostly, though it was unavoidable that some would get onto his hand and onto your panties.

He sort of regretted soiling them, but he already knew he was going to be back again very soon for more.

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

That scene where Neil looks at the Foxhole court for the first time and makes heart eyes at the idea of playing on it

"Oh," Nicky said, leaning against the wall a short ways down from Neil. "No wonder he chose you."

Kevin was watching him, but the second their eyes met he pointed back the way they'd come. "Give him his gear." -The Foxhole Court

I feel like platonic or romantic this moment of exy soulmateship comes off like:

Kevin seeing Neil and realising he finally found someone who loves exy with the same selfless devotion he feels

Kevin feels shy about being caught staring at Neil's expression and goes for a gruff statement to hide his racing heart

[wasitforrevenge]

oh sweetheart pt 2

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 2k

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: boxer!ellie, fighting/boxing, flirting, blood, weed mentioned, joel is dead in this :( (no character description let it be whoever you want)

summary: you finally learn her name and she wont be bothered to call you by yours.

author notes: hi part 2 of oh sweetheart! i got tons of love on part one so here you guys go! pls reblog, comment, or like! thanks for the support! thinking about throwing dealer!ellie into this also idkk thoughts???

PART 2 | part 2.5

series masterlist <3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

you were captivated as you watched throw her first jab, throwing her left hand first then throwing her other into a hook that hits his chin, you hear shouts around you as the man stumbled back. hes at least twice her size, yet you watched her move around him effortlessly, her opponent charged toward her but she skillfully dodged and delivered an uppercut to his jaw, sending him reeling.

“go ellie!" jesse's voice rang out from beside you.

her name was ellie.

you were so distracted by finding out her name but then realized who said it. your brother knows her? 

your thoughts were interrupted as you watched ellie dodge the man once again and land another jab to his face. he retaliated with a blow to her stomach, but she stood her ground, dodging his next strike and delivering a powerful hook to his chin. she followed up with another hit to his jaw, showing no signs of backing down.

you felt a pang of worry as you saw her take a hit to the face but she seemed unfazed. you watched in awe as she continued to land hits and evade most of his attacks. the crowd's reactions made you cringe every time he managed to get close enough to make contact. you watched the next hits from her that kept landing and the hits that she mostly dodged. you winced from the crowd every time he managed to get close enough to make contact,  he got her one good time and her lip spilt, she wiped it on the back of her hand and continued to stand her ground. as if it never happened at all.

your eyes were fixed on the countdown clock behind them, watching as it ticked down. only 10 seconds left in the match, it went by so quickly that you didn't even realize the three minutes were up. the crowd started to get louder as it came down to the final seconds. you watched ellie move in to deliver the last blow, knocking her opponent down one last time. he couldn't be bothered to get up. the buzzer sounded as the coach held up ellie's tattooed arm and announced her as the winner. cheers erupted around you, and you couldn't help but clap and cheer too.

ellie turned to leave the ring and caught you clapping. she was surprised to see you there, and then noticed her friends, jesse and dina, standing next to you. you were jesse's sister? ellie thought to herself as she made her way out of the ring, tearing the tape off her hands looking at the spats of blood decorating her arms. this was a regular occurrence - jesse, dina, and some others coming to the gym to watch her fights.

you found the seats again with dina as the crowd quieted down and returned to normal chatter. you sat there silently, wondering how jesse knew ellie. your brother was still standing with his friends chatting about the fight, but your curiosity got the best of you. you were about to ask dina about ellie when you were interrupted.

looking up, you saw ellie standing in front of you both, saying hi to dina. she got up from her chair to hug her and congratulated ellie on her win, realizing you hadn't been introduced.

“hey ellie, this is jesse's sister!” dina said, motioning towards you and then back to ellie. your face felt like it was turning red as you were put on the spot, still not fully grasping that she was just the one in the ring and now she was standing in front of you. you weren't prepared for this after what had happened outside.

“hey sweetheart," ellie smirked and spoke to you.

at the same time, dina got up to fetch jesse from his friends. you were relieved dina wasn’t right next to you and you’re sure she didn’t hear what ellie called you because now you really were blushing. she took the seat dina was in and sat in front of you.

“hi,” you said softly back to her, “you did good up there,” you expressed, not knowing what to really say to the girl with the busted lip in front of you.

“thank you, thought you would have left after outside but im glad you stayed” ellie responded to you, “not sure why he brought you, this doesn’t seem like a place for a girl like you sweetheart.” she added.

“long week i guess,” you told her, “im new in town so..” you trailed off as you realized she has been staring at you the whole. you went to continue talking to her, wanting to take the advantage of no one else being around, but your brother was making his way over and cut you off as he started talking to ellie about the match and dina made her way back to standing next to you since ellie had sat down, “hey we were all going to head to the bar after this, you coming?” she wondered.

“hey, i don't think i’m gonna stick around much longer. it’s been a rough week and im ready to head home," you replied, unable to take your eyes off the girl chatting with your brother. dina said she understood and mentioned they were leaving soon. overhearing jesse ask ellie if she wanted to join them, you missed her response amidst the noise of jesse's friends approaching the table.

a little while later, jesse took dina's hand to leave, and you noticed ellie sitting there, fiddling with the tape she had removed from her hands. you wondered if you should have accepted jesse's invitation to go out with them. as everyone started saying their goodbyes and heading towards the door, jesse and dina hugged you one last time. they asked you to text them once you got home safely after using the restroom and calling an uber.

after they left, you remained by the door and noticed ellie still sitting there, now looking at you. blushing, you realized you didn't know where the bathroom was, and ellie seemed to know everything about the place. summoning up the courage, you walked over to her, maintaining eye contact the whole time. 

“hey, um, could you show me where the bathroom is?" you asked shyly. she smiled and stood up, motioning for you to follow her. you both made your way to the other side of the gym and entered an open door frame, eventually reaching a locker room.

sitting on a bench surrounded by blue lockers, ellie pointed to a door behind her. “here, use this one. its much cleaner than the one out there," she remarked. you thanked her and headed towards the women's restroom. before pushing the door open, you glanced back at ellie and caught her looking back at you too.

after using the bathroom and washing your hands, you made your way out. the bathroom wasn't the cleanest, but it wasn't disgusting either. you couldn't imagine what the one outside must be like. as the door creaked, ellie looked your way once again. you noticed she had changed out of the white tank top she was wearing during the fight back into the t-shirt and grey sweatpants she had on outside. along with her black converse.

“thank you," you smiled at her, "for earlier and for now." you finished, unsure of what else to say.

“anytime, sweetheart," she nodded towards you. you felt like your cheeks had been red forever now. she paused and added, “how are you getting home? i know your brother left, are you walking this late?"

“i walked here, so i was just going to get an uber. i should probably order it now," you said, reaching for your phone in your back pocket.

“no, ill take you," she insisted. “it’s pretty late, and id rather make sure you get home safe." She thought back to what had happened outside.

“it's okay, i don't want to inconvenience you or anything," you started to say, but she cut you off, promising it wasn't a problem at all and that she truly didn't mind. you thanked her again, realizing you hadn't said much else to her besides that.

“wait right here, and i’ll be back. don't go anywhere," she instructed with a small smile before walking back out to the front where the gym was. you looked around and noticed a backpack on the floor with her workout clothes next to it. you saw a little spaceship pin and wings on the bag. she returned a couple minutes later, saying you could leave now. she kneeled down, unzipping her bag to grab a set of keys. she smiled at you as she stood up, and you followed her out.

you exited the locker room and noticed that the gym was now empty. the crowds had dispersed, the workers had clocked out, and all the chairs were put away. you walked alongside her until you reached the front door, and she proceeded to turn off all the lights.

“this is my gym," she said softly as she locked up behind us.

“wow, this place is all yours? that's pretty cool," you remarked. she glanced at you and smiled.

“yeah, it used to belong to my stepdad but now me and my uncle take care of it," she explained as we made our way to her old honda crv parked in the lot. there was a hint of sadness in her voice, but you didn't pry, even though you were curious. 

she unlocked the car doors as you approached, then walked around to open the passenger side for you. you thanked her quietly as she shut the door and circled around to the driver's seat.

after she got in and started the car, you expressed your gratitude once more. you noticed the scent of pine air freshener hanging from her rearview mirror, mixed with a faint smell of weed. it was a pleasant combination.

“you don't have to keep thanking me, but you're welcome," she reassured you. “so, where am I dropping you off?" she inquired.

you provided her with your address, and she knew exactly where it was since she lived just a five-minute drive away. she fiddled with the stereo, and fleetwood mac's “the chain" began playing in the background. you bobbed your head along to the music as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards your apartment. the drive was quiet and comfortable until you realized she was pulling up to your building.

“hey, you can let me out here," you told her. the car came to a stop in front of your place, and you turned to her. “thanks again for everything. i know i keep saying it, but i really mean it."

“of course, don’t mention it, im glad i got to,” she smiled towards you as you opened the door and went to get out but she said something that stopped you in your tracks. 

“you know im at a disadvantage you know my name but i don’t know yours, care to tell me or do you just want me to call you sweetheart forever?” she said. 

you got out of her car, shut the door and rested your hands on the door across the rolled down windows and told her your name. you started to walk away when you turned around and told her one last thing before you went inside.

“but i prefer sweetheart if you do.” 

[dovesdreaming]

Whispers of forever

Summary: shy reader and Neil Perry meet when they’re partnered up for a poetry assignment. They’re love blossoms throughout it.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The school bell echoed through the hallway, signaling the end of another tedious English class. Neil Perry gathered his books, ready to bolt out of the classroom, when the teacher's voice halted him. "Everyone a moment please”. You froze in your seat as Mr. Keating gestured for people in pairs to go to the front of his desk. When it was your turn he called Neil Perry up along with you, you’d always admired Neil from afar, his confidence, his smile that lit up any room, and the way he seemed to carry a lightness that made him stand out among your classmates. The idea of being paired with him for anything made your heart race.

"You two will be working together on the upcoming poetry project” Mr. Keating said with a knowing smile. "I think you’ll make a fine team”. Neil grinned, clearly unfazed. "Sounds great, Mr. Keating”. You nodded, unable to muster up anything more than that. Your voice had a tendency to get caught in your throat when you were nervous, and right now, it felt like you were trying to swallow a whole apple. "Alright, I'll let you both get to it”. Mr. Keating said, turning back to his desk as the last few students filed out. "Remember, make it extraordinary!".

Once outside the classroom, Neil turned to you, his bright smile warming the chilly hallway. "So, Y/N, do you have any ideas?.Your mind blanked for a moment before you managed to stammer out, "M-Maybe we could, um, meet in the library after school? We can start brainstorming." Neil's smile widened. "Perfect. I’ll see you there at 4?". You nodded again, the butterflies in your stomach doing cartwheels. You watched him walk away, wondering how you were going to survive working on a project with someone like Neil Perry without making a complete fool of yourself.

At just before 4pm you arrived at the library, your nerves bubbling up again. You’d chosen a table tucked away in a quiet corner, hoping the isolation might help calm you down. You pulled out your notebook, pretending to review your notes, though your thoughts were completely scattered.

"Hey, Y/N!" Neil’s voice cut through your nervous thoughts. He slid into the seat across from you, his smile just as bright as it had been earlier. "I hope you didn’t have to wait too long”. “N- Not at all” you replied, trying to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm, and there was something about the way he looked at you, like he actually wanted to be there with you, that made your nerves settle, just a little. “So” Neil began, pulling out his own notebook. "I was thinking we could start by choosing a theme. Something that resonates with both of us. Any ideas?". You bit your lip, your mind racing. "Um... what about... the idea of freedom? Like... breaking away from expectations?". Neil’s eyes lit up. "I love that. It's something that feels really personal to me, too”. He paused, a hint of seriousness in his tone. "Sometimes, it feels like everyone’s watching, waiting for you to be something… you’re not”. You nodded, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. "I know what you mean”. He looked at you for a moment, his expression softening. "I’m glad we’re doing this together, Y/N. I think we can make something really meaningful”. You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze. "Me too”.

As you started to bounce ideas off each other, the initial awkwardness began to fade. Neil was patient, encouraging you to share your thoughts and making you feel like every idea you had was valuable. His passion for the project was contagious, and soon you found yourself getting more comfortable, more excited. Days passed, and every meeting brought you closer. You started to see sides of Neil that surprised you. His thoughtfulness, his insecurities, the depth of his emotions. And he, in turn, seemed to notice the little things about you, like how your eyes sparkled when you talked about a topic you were passionate about, or how you would absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair when you were talking and even how you bit your lip when concentrating.

It was after one particularly late study session that something shifted. The library was nearly empty, the sun setting outside, casting a warm glow through the windows. You were both laughing over a joke Neil had made when the laughter died down, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. “Y/N” Neil said softly, his gaze locking with yours. "I… I really enjoy spending time with you”. Your heart skipped a beat. "I enjoy it too, Neil”.

He reached out, gently covering your hand with his. "I’ve never met anyone like you before. You’re… you’re different in a good way and I can’t get enough of it”. You stared at his hand on yours, warmth spreading from where his skin touched yours. “I’m just… me”. And that’s enough," Neil whispered. "More than enough”.

The moment hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. You looked up at him, and for the first time, you saw a hint of nervousness in his eyes, mirroring your own. Slowly, as if testing the waters, Neil leaned forward, giving you plenty of time to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you met him halfway, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips brushed against yours in the gentlest of kisses. It was brief, sweet, but it held a promise of more, of something real and tangible that had grown between you over the weeks. When you pulled back, Neil’s smile was softer, more tender. “Let’s make this project something unforgettable” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. "Together”.

And as you sat there, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

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

The autumn leaves had turned shades of amber and gold, crunching beneath your feet as you and Neil walked side by side through the woods behind Welton Academy. The crisp air was filled with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace whenever you were out here with him. The poetry project had long since been completed, earning you both top marks, but more importantly, it had been the start of something far more meaningful.

Now, a few months into your relationship, things felt as natural as the changing seasons. Neil’s hand was warm in yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand as you wandered deeper into the woods, the sounds of the school fading into the background. He had suggested the walk earlier that day, claiming he needed a break from studying, and you had been more than happy to oblige. Any excuse to spend time with him was a good one.

Neil slowed his pace, eventually stopping altogether in a small clearing. The ground was blanketed with leaves, and the trees overhead created a canopy that filtered the afternoon sunlight into soft, golden beams. He turned to face you, his expression soft, his eyes full of something that made your breath catch. “You know” he said, his voice low and warm, "when we first started working together, I never imagined we’d end up here. But now… I can’t imagine my life without you in it”. His words made your heart race, and you felt a familiar shyness creep up, though it was tinged with the warmth of knowing he felt the same way. "I feel the same, Neil. You’ve made everything so much… brighter”. Neil’s smile was tender as he gently tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a loose embrace. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Being in his arms felt like the safest place in the world, a sanctuary from all the pressures and expectations that weighed on both of you.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N” he murmured into your hair. "I just wanted you to know that." You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in. "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too, Neil”.

For a while, you simply stood there together, wrapped up in each other and the quiet of the woods. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect little bubble. Eventually, Neil pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so he could look into your eyes. “You’re beautiful, you know that?" he said, his voice full of sincerity. You felt your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t look away this time. Instead, you smiled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. "You’re not so bad yourself, Perry”. He chuckled softly before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally, your lips. The kiss was soft, unhurried, full of the unspoken emotions that had been building between you. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool air. “Let’s stay like this forever” he whispered. You nodded, your heart full to bursting. "Forever”.

And in that moment, with the golden leaves falling gently around you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, forever was within reach.

-

Thank you for reading! Please request more dps

[theladycarpathia]

Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

[paperclipninja]

Middle of the night GO thoughts after reflecting on a couple of comments that the 'you're being silly' scene is actually not just the adorable soft exchange I have been caught up in. I mean it is, but it also isn't.

And it got me thinking that the whole of season 2 is like this, almost the entire time we have two truths in play. The whole season is one of duality.

A few examples (there are many more woven throughout but just to illustrate the point):

Right off the bat, the opening scene, it's both ominous and hopeful. Aziraphale is restrained while angel Crowley full of abandon; one angel is aware of the danger of questioning, the other is naïve. Both are experiencing the same moment in rather different ways. It sets the tone of the season immediately and puts in motion this layered truth within the story.

The minisode with wee Morag and Elspeth, the entire graverobbing premise presents us with the dual truth that digging up the dead is bad but the selling of the bodies to the surgeon, thus contributing to saving lives, is good.

Aziraphale grapples with the duality here, justifying the actions of Elspeth by convincing himself that one truth is greater than the other. We also see that Crowley is far more able to recognise the complexity of multiple truths being valid depending on circumstance. This whole minisode feels like Neil showing his hand a little bit, the duality is so explicitly addressed, meanwhile we, the audience, are engaged in a larger unfolding story in which we are observing similar layered truths playing out in different ways.

Now the scene that made this whole thought process unravel, still one of my favourite scenes and will remain so, is the "smitten, I believe...you're being silly" exchange. It is both tender and awful.

Here we have Crowley, expressing his very real fear of JimGabriel, opening up to Aziraphale that he doesn't feel safe in the bookshop because of the constant fear he will wake up, and Aziraphale just looks at him with heart eyes and tells him he's being silly. This flags so loudly that we're watching two characters who are experiencing very different versions of their current reality, due to past experience, yes, but also, Aziraphale and Crowley each have their own idea about the right way to react to the current situation.

It's been pointed out by many before me, but the ball is another example of incredible juxtaposition and an extraordinary display of two truths existing at once. It is both incredibly romantic and an actual nightmare.

It is reflected, once again, in the way Aziraphale and Crowley are experiencing it, we know one character is caught up in the romance, the other in the horror show, but as a viewer, we are being tasked with holding both truths in our mind simultaneously. And both are true.

Aziraphale the entire season is both giddy in love and completely dismissive of Crowley. It is adorable and infuriating at the same time.

And yes, it is a reflection of the very duality the entire premise of Good Omens presents us with - that something can be good and bad at the same time, pure and corrupt, that the entire binary of Heaven and Hell/good and evil is flawed because those concepts can and do co-exist.

But the way it is seen in the interactions on a personal level this season is what has leapt out at me. It's why I think we see people falling into different interpretations of a lot of the scenes and moments, because they are more than that, they are observations. We are often observing two sides of the same coin, and both are true. The sheer genius of it and the way it is a mirror to the characters and the entire concept of the show we are observing is, quite frankly, mind boggling.

And it all comes to a head in the final fifteen™. There is so much duality in play here that it is no wonder there are hundreds of posts untangling bits of it and trying to extract the meaning from within the many layers. It's because we are given two truths in this final scene that are both heartbreaking.

Crowley loves Aziraphale and wants them to be together, free at last. Aziraphale loves Crowley and wants them to be together, free at last.

BUT

Aziraphale wants to use the system to keep them both safe. Crowley wants to escape the system to keep them both safe.

And then all the moments of duality between them throughout the season reach a critical juncture: Aziraphale in love but dismissive, Crowley understanding that Heaven = good is too simplistic and trying to compel Aziraphale to remember the lesson from Edinburgh ("when Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it"), Crowley trying to use the notion of romance to counter the nightmare with a desperate kiss.

It's a complete inversion of those two truths in the opening scene of the season, the entire scene is at the same time ominous and hopeful, but it is Aziraphale who largely being naïve and Crowley who is aware of the danger.

I mean, it was all spelled out for us really, this duality and the fact that those multiple truths in play were always going to come to a head. It was all there, wrapped up in this quote:

"What does your exactly mean, exactly? I feel like your exactly and my exactly are different exactlies".

[aftgtandn]

We're at a real risk of sounding like a broken record at this point but you guys are AMAZING!

We still can't believe how much support you all have shown the fest. From reblogs and retweets, to comments and joining in all the fun games, it's truly been a blast.

We really, really can't thank you enough! Our hearts are so full to see T&N fest be so fun for the second year in a row — and it's all your doing! Every fic, every piece of art, every work adopted, every meme, every comment left, every full bingo card, every rec. IT WAS ALL YOU.

To our creators in particular: we owe you THE WORLD. Thank you for being brilliant. Please make sure to tag us in all your claim posts so we can reblog them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... here's the full list of works AND THEIR INCREDIBLY TALENTED CREATORS:

Are you Real? by Whyreme Rated Mature | 6052 words Andrew comes back from Easthaven but Neil isn't at Palmetto, where he promised he would be. If you ever wondered what it would be like if Andrew was present for the immediate aftermath of Christmas at the Nest, this one is for you.

[art] don't flinch. by ghostheroes Rated Gen | Art There's not that much space from the cheek to the eye. In the art piece we have for you today, Lola aims the lighter barely an inch higher.

echoes by doodleishere Rated Teen | 100 words What if Kevin didn't leave the next alone? In this flash fic, Jean gets out too when Riko's anger finally snaps.

Bite the hand by Ateiluj Rated Mature | 4515 words We all have asked the question: what was going through Andrew's mind during The Choking Incident? A question we might have not asked, however, is: what would happen if no one stopped him? Well, this fic answers both of those!

duck duck goose by glittersinnin Rated Gen | 2329 words When Andrew goes through Neil's duffel, Neil holds his tongue. It will take some patience for him to get adequate revenge. Patience... and some experience handling the local water foul.

Let Down by maydaykevin Rated Gen | 4132 words How would it affect Kevin and Andrew's deal if Kevin hit Andrew back when Andrew chokes him? How is their relationship impacted by this unexpected bout of violence between them? Find out in this fic!

If You're Throwing Me to the Lions by orionauriga Rated Teen | 3763 words It's not easy when your boyfriend comes with a whole lot of baggage, especially twin-brother-who-hates-you shaped baggage. It's not easy but it's worth it, for Aaron, and Katelyn knows how to stand her ground.

If I was easy to kill you would have done it already by lazarusthefirst Rated Mature | 9196 words They were always meant to be partners, now it's Jean's job to make sure Neil behaves. Neil isn't great at being a partner, but he knows partners don't leave each other behind. In this fic, Neil doesn't come back to Palmetto alone.

Butterfly Effect! Read More on Page 12 by animediac Rated Gen | 5194 words How much can the death of one character affect the narrative? Through newspaper and blog articles, emails and social media posts, that's exactly what this fic explores. How many lives can the butterfly effect of one unfortunate 'accident' change?

Nathaniel by nyaar0n Rated Gen | Art Neil Josten is a Fox, but what if he never got the chance to be? Nathaniel Wesninski is a Raven through and through, and in this art piece, he snatches the spotlight both on the court and with his partner.

Now it's Time to Live (and Turn to Dust) by Witheredcarnelians Rated Mature | 4573 words Renee makes it just in time to save Jean ... or does she? This fic explores the crushing guilt of leaving behind a loved one, and being unable to save them in the end.

caught up in you by rooftopkisses Rated Mature | 5463 words "What are you hoping for, coordinates?" Neil doesn't lock the door, and Nicky walks in on Neil and Andrew kissing. Nicky can be trusted — mostly because he fears Andrew's knife — but Andrew's tendency toward quiet implosion is a different story.

but i've walked this far by rwnjun Rated Teen | 14556 words When the countdown ends, Neil gets taken. His dad is dead, but manages to make substantial damage before he gets shot. Now Nathaniel gets to be Neil Josten, but who is Neil Josten if he can't play Exy?

i've been feeling smaller by neiljokesten (vykio) Rated Teen | 2433 words Over worrying and wound-tending, Aaron and Neil get caught on a never-ending loop of the pot calling the kettle black over sacrificing themselves to protect a loved one

a familiar face by Shinobimoon Rated Gen | 4184 words How would things have gone if Kevin had recognized Neil right away? Would Neil have run, or still signed with the Foxes? Read more in this fic!

Better Luck Next Time by AllAngstNoComfort Rated Mature | 7812 words What if Riko had gone for Aaron instead of Seth, that night? In this fic, we learn exactly that and how that affects the Foxes.

the most unkindest cut of all by deadangelo Rated Mature | 2550 words Riko Moriyama has been many things to Kevin Day: a friend, a brother, a partner, a monster. The die has been cast. Riko is going to die. This time around, Ichirou has a spectator seat saved for Kevin.

we want the young blood by undermoonwalker Rated Teen | Art What if Elodie was sold to the Ravens? What if Jean had a predetermined partner through all that darkness? This art looks at the possibilities of the Moreau Ravens!

you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now) by wesawbears Rated Teen | 1757 words Jeremy Knox can't figure out their newest recruit. But having some secrets of his own means that he can tell when something isn't right, and if there's one thing about the Trojans is that they protect their own.

as soft as feathers by delossanctuary Rated Mature | 4714 words What's a T&N fest without a devastating Abby fic? This year, ponder on this: what if Neil's finger slipped when he needed an airport pickup?

TKO by justadreamfox Rated Mature | 4733 words Remember that busboy Neil paid to knock him out? In today's T&N fic, Neil doesn't get left on the floor of the club afterwards. Not everyone is out to get him.

i know that i did you wrong (but will you trust me when i say that i'll make it up to you somehow) by evenfallwriter Rated Mature | 7076 words Neil gets something different for his 19th birthday: his father's death.

depraved heart by decaflondonfog Rated Mature | 7000 words There is a horrible scene at the Hemmick house. There is a dead man on the ground. There is Andrew, laughing. And then there is Kevin, standing with a bloody knife in hand and something far more potent than fear clawing at his rib cage.

kintsugi by gus_47 Rated Explicit | 4728 words Riko's violence knows no bounds; what if he didn't stop at Kevin's hand? This fic follows Jean as he weathers and grieves the aftermath of the Raven's ugliest secret.

The Mallard's Lullaby by Random2002 Rated Mature | 6313 words The Moreau family are good at business; why sell one child to an Exy empire when you can sell two? Good thing Elodie's got a stuffed duck, a pieced together first aid kit, and her brother. What more do you need?

Light in a prism by sassy_pen_sassy Rated Teen | 1030 words There's a life outside of the walls of the EAU Raven's nest; Jean learns what that's like with Renee by his side in this sweet fic.

not dead (yet) by ashestoashes7 Rated Mature | 13593 words When Andrew is released from Easthaven, only three of his charges are there to pick him up. He always knew Neil was a pipedream. If Andrew cared more, Neil could become a nightmare.

Digits by twolipsliterature Rated Teen | 2700 words A cheerleader and a Exy player on the run from his hitman father walk into a bar. This time, Neil gives Marissa his number instead of being an asshole for once.

shots fired by liaisun Rated Mature | Art Neil threw out the guns when his mother died, but today we take a look at how things might have gone if he hadn't.

Timing by HereBeChickens Rated Teen | 1116 words Kevin scores. Neil falls to his knees. ""You've always known what it's like to be second."" Riko swings. Andrew still gets there in time. But this is where we diverge.

presumably dead arm by kevjean Rated Mature | 15518 words What if someone else had found Kevin first after Riko broke his hand? What if that someone was special in a way that was never allowed before? In this fic, Kevin finds a slightly different way out of the Nest, and discovers something on the way.

and this is just my luck by starwarned Rated Teen | 2107 words Kevin Day is a star. He won't let a gay crisis get in his way. At least, that's the plan -- it becomes difficult for Kevin to maintain that dissonance after he overhears Andrew offering to blow Neil.

n'oublie pas de vivre by FireHeartAW Rated Teen | 5028 words What is left of Jean Moreau without Exy? Can he find a new place for himself without the Ravens even if his injuries prevent him from ever playing again? And what does he need to make that happen?

i am not scared of death, i've got dreams again by liliacskiess Rated Explicit | 5566 words Eden's back alleyway is not the place to be on a Friday night; Nicky learns that the hard way in today's fic which asks 'What if Andrew didn't arrive in time to fight Nicky's attackers'?

Back to the Old House by TearsOfATrickster Rated Teen | 6664 words Neil's not the only one willing to protect Andrew when he's at Easthaven. What if Kevin went back to EAU for Christmas?

Only Human by aquared46 Rated Mature | 2677 words “Shouldn’t I feel different? Powerful?” Neil survives his father, but the encounter leaves him with nightmares that seem like they should be good dreams. Andrew is there to listen as Neil tries to process.

Baltimore Basement by ConventionalExy Rated Mature | Art The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. In this art, Neil is taken to Baltimore by his father's people, but he knows his way around a cleaver.

The Graveyard Shift by KweenDay Rated Mature | 7100 words What if Andrew noticed there was something wrong in the locker room? What if Andrew stayed at Neil’s side? What if Andrew was brought to Baltimore too? In this fic we find out exactly what goes down behind the walls of the Wesninski manor.

the ongoing effects of growing a backbone by favbitchcharlie Rated Teen | 10641 words What if instead of giving Neil the plane ticket to EAU, Kevin tore it up? What if Neil let a bit of Nathaniel slip through? In this fic, Kevin and Neil go to break Andrew out of Easthaven in their own non-Coach-approved way.

The Prince and The Pauper by CherriPips Rated Mature | 8695 words After Riko broke his hand, Kevin went running to Wymack, but what if he saw Andrew first? In this fic, we find exactly how that interaction goes down.

Tear away at the Mask by Moondal Rated Teen | 2779 words What if more than one Fox had crossed paths with Neil in his past life? And what if this one particular Fox immediately recognized him, too? This is a fic about Natalie Shields, Nathaniel Wesninski, and about reinventing yourself.

scavenger's hunt by kiwiaok Rated Mature | 10341 words In a world where Lola survives her gunshot wounds in Baltimore, Neil has to face her once more during her trial, and things come to light that he would rather had stayed hidden.

Neil Josten Is Not Fine by the_greater_grief Rated Teen | 3362 words "In Neil’s dreams, Aaron never shows up to save the day." Neil's nightmares have become a problem even he can't ignore. When his sleeplessness begins to mess with his performance on the court, he gives in. Maybe Dobson isn't so bad, after all.

damage control by seasy33 Rated Mature | 11656 words When Andrew witnesses Nicky kissing Neil, his confidence in his plan to break Neil wavers. What can he stomach in his mission to keep his family safe? And what will it actually take to learn Neil's secrets?

patient violence by Mercey Rated Mature | 6981 words An orderly catches Dr. Proust and Andrew ends up escaping Easthaven early. Where to next? Well, Neil’s in the Nest and Andrew’s looking into a jailbreak. In this fic we find out what happens when Andrew goes to get Neil out of the Nest.

Deadliest Piece by LynxDoesArt Rated Explicit | Art When Neil realizes that something is wrong at the Hemmick's house, he rushes upstairs to find Andrew with the rest of the monsters close behind. What if Kevin got a hand on Neil's racquet before Aaron?

it lives in the throat by timeloops (kunimi) Rated Teen | 14440 words Switching places with your twin is fun, until… technically, Aaron Minyard dies in a car crash with his mother. But the dead body isn’t Aaron and now he must deal with the fallout of it all.

With all the love and appreciation in the world,

Your T&N'24 mods and helpers 💚

[dead3ve]

Hii, I have a Charlie Dalton x fem!reader request/suggestion. Maybe something like Charlie tries to impress the reader with his rebellious acts, but what really wins her over are his genuine moments of vulnerability or support of his friends 🌸

Charlie Dalton x fem!reader

Summary: The request! And also, the scene where God calls him.

Warnings: The scene after where God calls him, and Charlie gets the paddle :(, no use of y/n, reader referred to as a girl, wears the uniformed skirt.

The reason for the limited number of female students was because the education board wanted a smoother transition process when making Welton Academy a co-ed school.

Did the new girls excite the boys? Yes. Was it any different? Not really.

Within the first few weeks of the school term, Charlie managed to make the prettiest of the girls laugh. Since then, he had become addicted to the sound.

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Mr. Keating had taken the students out of class to recite poetry and play soccer. An interesting mix of activities. Each student would recite a line or two of poetry and then kick the ball. When Charlie reached the front of the line, he took a confident stance, puffed his chest and he yelled his passage of "To indeed be a God!" He then kicked the ball.

He could hear laughter from several people, mainly from his friends. The laugh that was the most noticeable to Charlie was a ringing, girlish giggle. It bubbled from their chest and made Charlies neck warm under its collar. They had been stood behind him the whole time and he didn't notice how pretty they were. He had been craving the sound of their laugh since that lesson.

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The article in the school newsletter had been a popular topic among the student body. Charlie's plan was going exactly the way he wanted it to. All of the students were seated in the assembly hall, and Charlie had the phone prepared and his dialogue ready. The girl Charlie needed to impress was sat behind him around the other new girls.

Mr. Nolan was speaking in his calmy-furious way. Then suddenly, a phone was ringing. The silence turned into confused murmurs and chuckles in the assembly hall.

Charlie turned around in his chair to look at the girl. He sent them a wink and stood, phone in hand. The wink had made their stomach flutter and breath hitch. The girls around them had laughed and hollered at the interaction. But when he stood, the butterflies stopped. The butterflies turned into a nauseous feeling. This wasn't going to end well. That was when they heard Charlie's charismatic voice.

"Welton Academy, Hello?" The girl's knee was bouncing, "Yes, he is. Just a moment." The back of the girl's neck was sweating.

"Mr. Nolan, it's for you." Charlie moved his arms to gesture the phone towards the stern man stood on the stage before the lectern, "It's God. He says we should have more girls at Welton."

The girl's brows drew together as laughter erupted. They turned and looked around at some of the other students. They saw Charlie's friends, Neil and Todd and two redheads. Their postures were shrinking and their faces falling. Hands covering faces in shame.

While the hall was loud in laughter, Charlie sat back down. He turned to look at the girl to see their reaction. His brows also knitted together at their reaction.

There was no smile or laugh.

A frown. An awfully confused, gorgeous frown was what Charlie saw instead.

When Charlie caught their eye, the girl's gaze pulled away and lowered towards their skirted knees. They were considering whether or not the rebellious boy was worth the girl's attraction. They were wondering what he had done to himself and his friends.

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The girl had asked Neil Perry what Charlie had done when they were in the boys' dormitory hallway of Welton. He'd told them about the cave and the poetry.

Then he told them about why he probably pulled this stunt to impress them.

"What?" The girl's brows raised and pulled tightly together. They had grasped Neil's arm, wanting sincerity. "You're joking, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Neil spoke with the needed sincerity, "He's liked you for a while now. I'm sorry I had to tell you." A small, apologetic smile was on Neil's lips.

The girl had turned away from Neil and slammed their back against the wall. They'd winded themself, a breath escaping them as they stood in shock.

The boy they liked was trying to impress them. He was trying to impress them by being a dumbass. Their heart fluttered. They turned to look at Neil with red cheeks.

"Do you mind if I stick around until he comes back?" The girl spoke quietly with a red face.

"You're welcome to," Neil gave a sad smile at their red face, "But he might be upset. Facing Nolan..." Neil didn't want to bring up 'the paddle' around the girl.

"Thank you, Neil." They gave him a sad smile back. Then they excused themself to wash their face under a tap. They were flustered from the conversation.

When they were walking back towards the boy's dorms, Charlie was walking slowly down the opposite end of the hallway, he went to turn into his dorm, but Neil began to talk to him in the doorway. The girl could no longer see Charlie, and because Neil said he might be upset they stopped, not wanting to overstep. Whatever was said ended with Neil smiling. That made the girl's heart flutter.

Once Charlie's door had closed with a solid clunk, the girl's feet moved quickly. They had stopped in front of Neil. They were frantic with their questions.

"Is he okay? What did Nolan say? What did Nolan do?" Their voice was growing in volume as they spoke. They were getting nervous. The girl's head was turning between Neil's face and Charlie's closed door.

Neil had to take the girl by the arms to calm them down. "He's going to be fine, okay?" Neil spoke softly, with confident reassurance. "If he's at study hall tonight, one of us will come and get you. You should rest, okay?" This made the girl release a relieved breath.

"Thank you, Neil," The girl pulled away, stepping towards the exit of the boy's dormitories, "If you get to speak to him, tell him I'm worried."

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When Neil and the girl walked into the common room where the boys usually held study hall, they were shocked to find it so quiet. The boys had fallen silent because Mr. Keating was there.

"Phone call from God. If it had been collect, that would have been daring." Mr. Keating finished the sentence with a smile. The boys laughed at his comment.

When Mr. Keating walked out of the common room, silence turned to the girl. The boys dispersed around the room, all the while, the girl stared at Charlie who was sat on a plush, leather recliner. When the girl took some steps towards him. He was looking towards them with hopeful eyes.

"You know that was really stupid, Charlie." The girl spoke quietly with little conviction.

Charlie pulled his gaze away from their face. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment. Charlie looked at the tip of the girl's shoulder instead as he spoke in an apologetic whisper, saying "I thought it would've made it you laugh."

The girl sat on the arm of the couch, facing Charlie. Charlie's gaze failed to meet theirs until they ducked to see his brown eyes. The girl knew he was sorry. Sorry for almost exposing his friends. Maybe even sorry for himself.

"You make me laugh. Just not when you're hurting your friends in the process." Charlie had placed his elbow on the arm of the couch next to the girl's knees in order to cup his face in his hand . He wanted to look at the girl.

"I'm sorry," Charlie was still speaking quietly. Both to preserve his emotional control and to keep the girl by his side, not wanting to scare them off, "It won't happen again." He finished the sentence with one of his winning smiles.

The girl's heart fluttered, and they smiled back. They had to look down at their lap, or else they would have been too overwhelmed by him. That was when they realized there was a bongo drum on the floor by Charlie's recliner. They picked it up and released a breathy chuckle.

"This is what makes me laugh, Charlie." They spoke while looking down at the instrument. They had missed Charlie's story and what the bongo drum was used for, but the girl knew it would have been funny.

Charlie then told them the story of what happened in Nolan's office. He told them about the paddle. Charlie made the girl frown in pity for him and then laugh with joyful tears in their eyes. For the rest of study hall, the two were sat in their own world on the leather recliner. Sudden, girlish jolts of laughter were heard, pulling students away from their books and pens. The boisterous voice of Charlie Dalton was a constant distraction.

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At breakfast the next day, in between staring at the girl and eating from his plate, Charlie was planning on how to ask the girl out on a date.

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[merceyca]

Hold Tight

Andrew and Neil accidentally crash Abby and Wymack’s carnival date.

The fairground was rife with people and noise. Andrew had warned Neil that this would be the case, but the screaming, the music, the crowds; it all had Neil wondering what the appeal of a day at the fair could possibly be.

The day itself was drawing to a close, the sky turning a deep orange and fading to purple at the edges. Andrew had flown in that afternoon, and when Neil picked him up from the airport he happened upon the flyer for the Palmetto State fair.

Although, after spending ten minutes there, Neil came to the conclusion that they should have just had an easy night at home. Murder, She Wrote reruns were a better alternative to this.

Andrew caught him by the shoulders, yanking him out of both his thoughts and the warpath of an ice-cream-wielding toddler. Neil checked himself for stains, but he remained unscathed.

‘Thanks.’

‘Those jeans are designer,’ Andrew informed him.

Neil shook his head, smiling. He opened his mouth to respond when a familiar voice called, ‘Neil! Andrew!’

They both whirled to see Abby hauling Wymack over by the hand. She was beaming, her hair free from its customary ponytail and whipping around in the breeze. Wymack appeared to be reevaluating his life choices.

Neil met Andrew’s amused look with an identical one of his own, allowing Abby to catch him in a hug when they met them halfway.

‘I didn’t know the two of you were coming here tonight,’ she said fondly.

‘The warning would have been nice,’ Wymack added, less so.

Neil fought the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him. Living in the dorms with just Robin was beginning to have an effect on him.

‘We didn’t intend to crash your date,’ Andrew said, sending a meaningful look down at Abby and Wymack’s joined hands.

‘And what noble reason do you shits have for being here?’ Wymack returned.

‘Candy floss hunting,’ Andrew said at the same time Neil said, ‘Breaking in my jeans.’

‘They’re designer, you know,’ Neil continued when Wymack cast his eyes heavenward.

Abby laughed at their antics. ‘Have you tried any of the rides yet?’

‘Er, no.’ Neil tried to think of how best to skirt around the topic of Andrew’s acrophobia, but Andrew beat him to it.

‘I sustained a head injury in last week’s game,’ Andrew lied. ‘No roller coasters for me. So sad.’

Abby frowned. ‘A head injury? In which quarter? We watched the whole game.’

‘You must have blinked,’ said Andrew. ‘I’m going to line up for food if you want to take him on something puke-inducing before we eat. Coach?’

Wymack sighed but seemed to accept that his date had been crashed. ‘Yeah, take the kid on that death trap you pointed out earlier.’

‘The one you said would put your heart to the test?’ Abby asked.

Wymack huffed. ‘We’ll meet you by the tables.’

‘Are you sure?’ Neil asked Abby. ‘If you don’t want to—’

He trailed off when he saw that Abby’s green eyes were alight with excitement. She clutched his arm. ‘Come on, Josten. Don’t chicken out on me now.’

Neil couldn’t help but laugh as she dragged him across the fairground. The years between nurse and striker fell away, and suddenly they were both kids, nervously boarding a ride called The Crazy Coaster that allegedly spun as it sped over the tracks.

Abby’s joyful squeals accompanied the swoop in Neil’s gut at every drop, making him laugh harder. They took the first two dips facing forwards, but the biggest one was coming, and their carriage was turning.

‘Oh, god. Oh, god,’ Abby gasped, her hand fumbling for Neil’s. ‘Neil, we’re backwards.’

Neil managed a hysterical, ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

Abby finally caught his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Neil held tight to the woman who had patched him up so many times he’d lost count, who kissed his forehead and cheered him on at every game, who brought him on this stupid ride and showed him that surrendering your control to wheels and cogs and gravity could actually be fun.

The two of them shared a pair of frenzied grins as Abby said, ‘Here we go,’ and then they were falling.

[ash5monster01]

Hi!! I love your work so much! Could I maybe request something with Neil? A smut? Like, maybe they were in a class, and the reader was teasing him or something?? Thank you 😊

Not Prepared

Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, smut, semi-public, handjob, lots of teasing, kind of dominant reader, established relationship, mdni!

Summary: When Neil gets to college he thinks he’s prepared, until he meet you. Suddenly he’s distracted, forgetting homework, and worst of all you start teasing him in class.

word count: 1k

Masterlist

Neil liked being good in school. He prided himself on the fact he was good at paying attention and getting his work done. Learning had never been an inconvenience to him. That is until he met you. The fact you ever agreed to a date with him was a miracle in itself. Add in that you had been going steady for a while now, it made life a little difficult. Especially since here you sat beside him in the lecture hall, perfume filling his senses, and the bare skin of your neck on full display. It’s in this moment he wished he had taken Keating’s lesson on distraction a little more seriously.

“Everything okay?” you whisper to him under the long droning of the professor at the front of the room. Neil can’t help the way his ears tint pink, briefly wondering if you could see the lustful images flashing through his mind.

“Yeah, yeah, just distracted” he whispers back, unable to meet your eye. You watch him suspiciously, wondering why he seemed so on edge. The way his hand gripped his pencil and how red his ears and neck were. It was also out of the ordinary for him to not even spare you a glance.

“Okay, just checking” you say as you set a hand on his knee. Suddenly he jumps under your touch, trying hard to cover it up, but you can see it clear as day. Neil was distracted but what surprises you is that he’s actually distracted by you. It makes your heart soar and then you can’t fight the mischievous smile that crosses your face.

Instead of removing your hand from his knee you slide your fingers further around his skin. Trying to save face while a panicked look crosses his own. He finally glances at you to find you innocently watching the board while your hand starts sliding further and further up his thigh. He’s torn between wanting to stop you and seeing how far this would go. When he dares a glance around to see if anyone has noticed, he finds uninterested students paying no mind to you both, so he allows you to continue.

“What’re you doing?” he whispers in your ear, hot breath fanning across your neck and you smile at him.

“Taking your mind off of whatever’s distracting you” you grin and Neil gulps, looking around again and never being more thankful for the fact you were fairly secluded to the rest of the class.

“What if we get caught?” he asks and you giggle lightly, noting how there is no one sat behind you and everyone in front of you were either half asleep or listening to the teacher.

“We won’t” you declare, hand sliding over the crotch of his pants. You’re happy to find Neil’s already half hard, twitching against your palm as you rub his length over the fabric. He shudders at your touch, trying hard to be quiet as his hand grips tighter around his pencil. When you close your hand around him as best you can through his pants you’re delighted to find he is fully hard now. Straining against the material that begs to set him free.

“Oh God” Neil whimpers quietly when your hand leaves his length and unbuttons his pants. He’s not sure if he’s more turned on by your touch or the fact you had just done that with one hand.

“Shh baby, got to be quiet” you tell him and he eagerly nods, biting his bottom lip as your hand undoes his zipper and dips into the fabric. You completely bypass the hem off his boxers and he shoves his pencil in his mouth the second your fingers brush against his length. He’s quite certain he’s never been more turned on in his life.

Once your hand is fully inside you smile as you grasp around his length, sliding to his tip and brushing your thumb across the top. You’re delighted to find he’s already leaking with pre-cum. Releasing him you watch as Neil’s brown eyes falter, looking at you with a wounded look until he sees you suck your thumb into your mouth, smiling at the taste of him. It takes everything in him to not finish right then and there. Once your thumb is clean your hand returns, providing the pressure Neil was in desperate need of.

“Feel good?” you ask seductively and Neil nods furiously, gripping his desk as you start pumping him in your hand. He won’t last long, he’s certain of it, but his main goal is not getting caught.

You start pumping faster, loving how into this he is. Neil is a mess, practically puddy in your hands, and you’re unable to stop how wet you are just from how turned on he is. You have to press your knees together when Neil starts twitching in your hand, fighting his release. You don’t allow him, speeding up your movements so much you hear the pencil crack under his teeth. One last pump and squeeze to his balls he’s shooting ropes of cum into his boxers. You’ve made a mess of him but thankfully this was your last class. You could easily take him back to your dorm and take care of him the rest of the way there.

“I can’t believe we just did that” Neil says when he drops the abused pencil to his desk, eyes searching to see everyone else was still just an uninterested as before. Yet he also finds he enjoyed the thrill of trying to not get caught. You smile and tuck him away gently, zipping and buttoning his pants back up.

“So cute how needy you were for me” you grin at him and Neil gives you a sheepish smile, ducking to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Think I could return the favor?” he asks and you smile at him, adoring how he still blushes as he asks you out. As if you hadn’t just made him cum in his pants in the middle of class.

“I’m counting on it” you tell him and he smiles and kisses you again before focusing back on the class, well to the best of his abilities. You just smile and lace your hand with his own, content with getting to sit next to him like this for as long as you can.

[rabidfoxes]

one thing that will always fuck me up is the thought of neil and jean being ravens together. of the brief time neil experiences in the nest, where the two universes intersect, neil the raven and neil the runaway, and understands what his life would've been if his mother hadn't ran away with him but also understands what jean had been living through all this time. jean being angry at neil for getting caught but also mitigating that anger by daring to hope, to wonder what if he stays? what if jean finally has his permanent partner? and it's a foolish hope of course because neil doesn't stay, but he makes sure that renee gets jean's number and when jean needs her the most she shows up, one single girl against the mafia, and takes him out of the nest. and neil makes a deal for him so jean can keep on living, he makes sure, in his blunt way because neil is not a soft person, that jean fully understands that riko is dead, that neil saw him being killed with his own eyes. and he shows up at jean's new house and acts like a little shit with the fbi when he notices jean feels off and needs some time to recover. he kills his abuser. he tells jean he is worth saving. they are not friends, but they are still connected in a way. neil isn't jean's partner in suffering, but he's there to try to make that suffering more bearable.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

could u write a cill character where the reader is super horny w/ baby fever, a breeding type fic ❤️?? I love your works btw!!

Oh anon, I love you for requesting this ❤️ Partly because I had already planned to write it lmao. And thank you so much!! Sending love right back at ya 🥰

Due Date

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Your boyfriend is totally oblivious to your baby fever, but lucky for both of you, you aren't able to keep it bottled up for too long.

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, floor sex, stomach pressing (?? idk how to even phrase this lol), mentions of reader being on birth control, some fluff, established boyfriend/girlfriend relationship

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

There had been only one thing on your mind for weeks now, and you could not figure out for the life of you how to get rid of the thoughts. You wondered if you would ever feel normal again, or if this was just going to be your new default state forever. The idea of that was maddening.

Neil, on the other hand, seemed to be somehow blissfully unaware about just how badly you felt like you might explode every time Marcia and Buddy came around with their new baby. 

You weren’t sure how that was possible, given that you practically sprinted over to the stroller every time they wrangled it into the store. How could he not have known, when you squealed for the hundredth time, every time, at seeing that chubby little baby face? Marcia had practically needed to wrestle her own child away from you the last time they’d paid a visit, and yet Neil seemed totally unaware of how badly you wanted one of your own.

Or maybe he just hoped that if he ignored it, your baby fever would go away. Your boyfriend had never exactly been one to take on responsibilities willingly, unless doing so somehow involved Gumshoe. The store was his baby, as he often joked, and you were starting to worry that that meant he would never have room in his heart for real babies. The kind that would giggle at Neil’s silly antics and look up at you with their big blue eyes, just like his, and-

You snapped back to reality. You had been daydreaming again, and you found yourself standing behind the counter with Neil, your finger stuck into the spool of a VHS tape as you worked at rewinding a stack of them together.

“You okay, babe?” he asked, sparing a glance in your direction.

You’d paused in your mindless task, lost in fantasy, and now you tried to shake off the fog that had crept over you, bringing with it the images of cribs and onesies and bouncing bundles that always seemed to end up in Neil’s arms. 

“Uh…”

He would make such a good dad. A fun dad; the kind that would take his kids on adventures themed after all of their favorite movies. Lightsaber battles in the kitchen. Quests for treasure in the backyard that would make Indiana Jones quake in his boots. Neil would have just as much fun as your future children - you were sure of it. And that thought was almost enough to make you jump him right there in the store. It was pure torture, living like this, and for days on end.

“Helloooooo?” Neil droned.

You looked over at him with wide eyes as he caught you indulging in your secret fantasies yet again.

“You… good?” he asked again, slightly concerned this time.

“I am; I’m… just a little distracted,” you said, hurrying to get back to rewinding the tape.

Neil stuffed the cassette he was holding back in its box, giving you a smug look.

“Yeah, I do have that effect on you, don’t I?” he teased.

You shoved him, and he nudged you back with an elbow.

“In your dreams,” you laughed.

Privately, you could feel yourself starting to ache at just his words. He had no clue how true they were, and you certainly weren’t about to tell him. Now really wasn’t the time for a baby; your logical side knew that. And as much as a part of you wanted to tell him, you knew that it wouldn’t make any real difference. You would just have to be patient and wait.

“Thanks for helping out tonight, by the way,” Neil continued, slipping back into the easy routine of rewinding tapes. “I hate doing this.”

“I know; me too,” you agreed. “Which is why I expect to be paid overtime.”

Neil looked at you, side-eyed.

“Do you even work here?” he joked.

“Not for long if I don’t start getting paid.”

“Okay, fine,” Neil sighed. “The usual rate?”

You giggled as he put his tape down and pinned you against the edge of the counter, pressing your bodies together as he kissed you. A series of quick, fleeting pecks; your hourly wage for helping him out.

“Hey! Overtime,” you reminded him, grabbing at the hem of his shirt as he started to pull away.

Neil leaned back over and gave you one more kiss, catching your bottom lip with his teeth.

Just then, the bell at the top of the door rang, letting you know that a customer had arrived. Neil stood up straight, clearing his throat in a very professional manner as he backed up a little. Even with distance between you, you still felt your whole body thrum. The heat on your cheeks seemed to burst as the lone customer wandered the store, browsing the aisles as you and Neil stood side by side and rewound more tapes.

“All set?” Neil chirped up as the man approached the counter. 

Neil went through the routine of checking out the tape, finally handing it over along with a receipt. He glanced down at the date that was printed on the slip.

“And you’re all set. Due date is… August fifteenth.”

Behind him, you made a small noise in your throat. Neil looked over at you, just for a moment, before he turned back to the customer and finished wrapping up the transaction. When the man had left, Neil turned more fully to face you.

“You’re acting weird, babe,” he said bluntly, scratching the back of his head. “Is there something going on?”

“Nope, never better!”

You cursed yourself silently. Why had something so stupidly simple as Neil saying the words “due date” lodged itself firmly into your brain as yet another excuse to obsess over babies? 

“If you need to go home, that’s okay,” Neil offered. “I can wrap things up here by myself.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s just…”

“Just…?” Neil echoed, leaning toward you.

“Hearing you talk about… due dates,” you sighed, finally admitting defeat.

Neil’s look of utter and genuine confusion would have made you laugh out loud, if not for the fact that you felt compelled to burrow down into the floor.

“Should I not… tell the customers when to return tapes?”

“No, you dummy!” You avoided his eyes as you shuffled uncomfortably. “I just mean that- It just makes me think about babies!”

You could see the gears turning in Neil’s head a few seconds after you’d blurted out your confession, slowly reaching a conclusion before his eyes widened.

“Ohhhh. That’s why you’ve been so interested in hanging out with Marcia,” he laughed.

“Yes! Neil - okay?” you cried, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I just- Ugh!”

You threw your hands up as you abandoned all attempts at explaining yourself. Neil was already throwing you glances, as if he had caught you in the middle of something scandalous, instead of just struggling to suppress baby fever. 

In a way, though, he had. Your thoughts really weren’t all so pure as just picturing him with your kids at the park. Babies didn’t just drop down out of the sky, after all.

Neil took a small step toward you, making you shrink back as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“You like the thought of me knocking you up?” he hummed.

The shock of him saying it so bluntly made you shrink into yourself a bit more. Neil wasn’t letting you go anywhere, though, as he placed his arms to either side of your hips, leaning against the counter.

“Maybe I just think you’d be a good dad,” you shot back, slightly too shakily to be believable.

“Mmm, I don’t think that that’s all you’ve been thinking.” Neil took another step forward, closing up even the most fleeting idea of any distance between you. “I think you like to imagine me filling you up until there’s no way that you couldn’t be pregnant.”

You could hardly believe the words coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. This was certainly not how you had imagined any potential conversation going.

“And… what if I do?” you asked.

Neil shrugged, not nearly as nonchalant as he was trying to be.

“You tell me,” he said, lowly. “Do you want me to?”

“Want you to…?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Neil’s lips were on yours again, kissing you with a renewed hunger that seemed to extend to some deeper level. Before, things had been teasing and light, like they usually were between you. Now, they felt almost serious. Your head spun as you felt yourself give in to the kiss, letting your wildest fantasies surround you as you stood there, knees buckling at the strong ache that ran through your legs. You had to hold onto Neil slightly as he pulled away. 

“I know we’re not ready for kids yet,” you started, not very convincingly.

Neil was making it too hard to focus, as his lips trailed over the side of your face, pressing kisses into your jaw, your cheek, your temple. You hadn’t expected this reaction from him, and you were scrambling to figure out how to respond.

“So?” Neil laughed. “That doesn’t mean we can’t practice, right? There’s really no harm in that.”

“I… guess not,” you agreed.

Neil pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaning down to bite at your ear. You moaned - just a small sound you couldn’t hold back - and felt warm desire pool deep in your stomach as Neil whispered into your ear.

“I think you’d look cute, you know.”

He pulled back to brush a thumb over the very lowest part of your stomach, and the implication was obvious. “Do you?” you sighed, dreamily.

Neil pressed his body back up against you, and this time you could feel his hard length, digging into your hip. Your hands wrapped around his waist, holding him there as he answered.

“Mm-hmm. Seeing you pregnant would really just be a reminder of what I had done to get you like that, sooo… I think it’d be pretty hot.”

You wondered if Neil had any idea just how dangerous of a game he was playing. You knew he was only pretending. He and you both knew that you were on birth control. But… it would be so easy for things like that to change.

“You really need to start watching your mouth, Neil,” you warned him.

“I think I need to start watching you live out your little fantasies, babe.”

Neil’s next kiss was so passionate that he nearly bent you back over the checkout counter. His teeth caught your already-swollen lip once again as he snuck a hand under your thigh, pulling it up to hook over his waist.

“Neil! Can’t this wait til we get home?” you laughed, a sharp heat coursing throughout your whole body.

“Can you wait?” he countered.

That wasn’t really a fair argument. You very clearly could not, at least not based on the way you felt yourself clench around nothing more than the thought of Neil filling you up, just like he’d said earlier. You groaned as he kissed you again, sealing your fate.

“Okay, just - let me at least lock the door,” you begged.

Neil pulled away with a soft smile, and you could see just how incredibly hard he was through the outline of his jeans. 

“Hurry back, baby. Or I’ll have to come over there and get you.”

You practically ran to the front of the store, flipping the sign hastily over to “closed” before locking the door and drawing the blinds over all of the windows. It was already dark out, and you caught a quick glimpse of your wide smile in the reflection of the plate glass. This wasn’t the first time that Gumshoe had closed early for some less-than-legitimate purposes.

Suddenly, something crashed into your back. From behind, you felt Neil’s arms encircle your waist as he pulled you away from the window.

“Sorry, babe - couldn’t wait.”

His voice was close, burrowing into your ear as it nestled right next to the thoughts that continued to swirl in your head. You felt a rush down your spine at his words. 

Neil backed up a few more steps as he spun around, keeping you pinned to his chest, and then slammed directly into the shelves, spilling VHS tapes everywhere.

“Look who’s the overeager one now,” you laughed, arching back slightly as Neil’s hand grabbed roughly at your breast.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

Neil guided you down to the floor, flipping you over to face him as you landed among the catastrophe of VHS tapes. You shoved a few out of the way, making enough room to lie down while Neil hovered over you, busy with ripping off his shirt.

“Is this really how you treat the mother of your future children?” you joked.

“No,” Neil replied, looking down at you as he tore off his belt. “This is how I treat the girl who wants me to fuck my cum into her so badly, she can’t even focus on rewinding tapes.”

Neil shoved his pants down while you were still too shocked to speak, and then went to work on your clothes, nearly wrestling you out of them as he grunted above you. Neil sometimes got rough when he was excited, but you hadn’t ever seen him like this. Clearly, you weren’t the only one who liked the idea of him getting you pregnant.

Naked and lying on the floor of your boyfriend’s video rental store, you felt yourself practically drip onto the carpet.

“Neil, are you really gonna…?”

“Cum in you?” he finished. “Course I am. How else are you gonna get knocked up?”

Your face flushed. The line between real intentions and fantasy ones was already so dangerously thin, and you felt yourself grow even more excited at the idea of not knowing how serious he was. The two of you had always been cautious. Neil always pulled out of you, even knowing that you were on birth control. It wasn’t like anything would actually happen if he chose not to, but…

“Need you to take me nice and deep - okay, baby?”

Neil’s words snapped you back to reality again as you felt him line up. Your hips were hovering just off the floor, and the anticipation was killing you. You needed him inside of you, now.

“Okay,” you agreed breathlessly.

“Good girl.”

Neil sat up straight as he pushed in, and you felt yourself clamp down so hard that it was almost a miracle he was able to get anywhere. But he did, and you could feel every inch of him sink into you as he buried himself all the way, deep inside just like he’d promised.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed. “But you’re not gonna be after I’m done with you. Fuck.”

You watched Neil groan as he squeezed his eyes shut and pumped once, almost cautiously. You could feel the drag of his cock as he pulled out, and you savored the slow thrust. You knew that this pace wouldn’t last long once he got started.

Neil’s hand drifted back down to your stomach, pressing softly as he pushed into you again.

“You feel that, babe?”

The sensation made you gasp. The slight pressure from Neil's hand made the fat head of his cock seem to nudge inside of you even more deeply; the feeling intense but addicting. Neil kept the flat palm of his hand pressed against you as he dragged out, then pushed back in, a little more roughly this tine. It was almost enough to send you right over the edge, and your hips inched up to increase the pressure.

“Fuck - you like that,” Neil commented, breathlessly. “Like feeling right where I’m gonna cum, don’t you?” “N-Neil! Fuck!” you gasped, unable to string more than two words together. 

It was absurd how quickly he’d brought you right to the point of no return. You could feel yourself, clearly about to let go any second, and you knew Neil could too. Your muscles were already spasming, clenching harshly around him, desperate for that last little push that you needed to tip over.

Neil grabbed your wrist with his other hand, only to drag it down to your clit. As he positioned your fingers, you heard him let out a small whine of his own.

“Fuck, baby - come for me, please,” he begged.

The added sensation of your fingers was more than enough to make you obey, and you screamed as Neil thrust his hips into you, pressing down harder with his hand. The feeling that washed over you was far too profane to be called good, but you found yourself unable to care about just how impure your thoughts were. You wanted Neil’s cum more than anything else in the world.

“That was so awesome,” Neil moaned.

His hands landed next to your head with a thud, as he fell forward heavily. The force sent a couple more VHS tapes tumbling off the shelf, raining down over the two of you. Neil didn’t seem to notice as he pumped into you again. 

“I wish you’d told me about this sooner,” he laughed. “You’re squeezing me like crazy; I can’t believe how turned on you get at the thought of me fucking a baby into you.”

You could barely respond, still coming down from a high that had left you shaking. Neil brought a hand to your face, cradling you as he continued to thrust, steadily picking up pace.

“I’m right here, babe,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Can you beg?”

His request sent a jolt straight through you. The sound of his voice, slightly strained and right on the verge of cracking, almost made it seem like he should have been the one to beg you. But, then again, he hadn’t needed even a full five minutes to get you to come so hard that you still couldn't see straight.

“Neil, please,” you whined, letting go of all sense of decency.

“What d’you want me to do, baby?” he groaned.

You suddenly found yourself with both hands pinned over your head; Neil’s fingers digging into your wrists as he held them tight. He leaned all his weight into it, using his other hand to grab frantically at your hip as he picked up his pace even more. It hurt, having both arms pressed so hard into the floor, but you honestly couldn’t have cared less if it meant Neil was close.

“Fuck, Neil - want you to fill me and fuck me again and again. Want your cum so badly. Want you to-”

“Fuck!” Neil yelled.

You felt him rush to bury himself, deeper inside of you than he had ever been. His expression as he came was so twisted in agonized pleasure that it nearly knocked the wind out of you. The sensation was somehow different than you had imagined it; a wet warmth that seemed to spread through you and seep into your bones, still sore from being pushed down into the hard floor.

As he came down from his own high, Neil thrusted weakly a few more times. You felt his cum start to slip out of you, dripping down the curve of your thigh before pooling onto the carpet.

That would be awkward to explain. You hoped that it wouldn’t stain too badly.

“Holy shit, we should do that more often,” Neil breathed. He brought his hand back to your face, dragging his knuckles over your jaw as he let go of your wrists. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m… yeah,” you said dreamily, still unable to think quite straight. “Wow, Neil.”

“Yeah, I could tell you enjoyed that,” he laughed, moving inside you and shoving his cum a just little bit deeper. 

He had started to get soft, but you felt him twitch slightly at the new sensation. Your mind flashed back to earlier, when he had talked about filling you over and over again until there was no way you couldn’t get pregnant.

Neil kissed you sweetly on the lips, then pulled back to look at you. A serious expression bloomed over his face.

“Babe, do you have any other fantasies? You have to tell me if you do.” He kissed you on the nose, quickly, before continuing. “Can’t believe I almost missed out on the chance to breed your tight little cunt.”

Neil, clearly, hadn’t quite left this particular fantasy behind.

“I didn’t mean to not tell you. I just… I worried you’d think it was weird.”

“Baby, anything that drives you this wild would never be weird to me,” Neil promised. “Especially if it means I get to do this. You really do look so pretty stuffed full of cum.”

You felt your cheeks start to heat up again, and Neil pressed his lips to yours, softer this time. His tongue slipped briefly past yours, before he pulled away to look down at you. You were the first to speak.

“I really do think you’d make a good dad. Just for the record,” you said.

Neil brushed the tip of his nose over yours.

“You tryin’ to sweet talk me into doing all that again?” he teased. “Because I think we might wreck the whole store. Somebody’s gotta clean up these tapes.”

He gestured widely toward the shelf next to you, knocking over a few more cassettes in the process. 

You laughed, wrapping your arms tight around Neil’s neck as you pulled him in close for one more kiss.

[jolalibrary]

things you never asked

Javier Peña x f!reader (deaf/hard of hearing/hearing impaired!reader) 

can you sign? biting the inside of his mouth, he at least attempts to look guilty as he shakes his head. gesturing, taking your pen, fingers brushing against yours ever so delicately. likely purposefully.  but I will learn. 

wordcount: 3.1k dedication: written for the wonderful anon who requested Javier Peña x deaf/hearing impaired reader, I hope you enjoy. AN: Please be aware, I am not deaf/hard of hearing myself, and therefore, I apologise to anyone who reads this and sees inaccuracies. I’m aware, even with the research, talking and asking questions, it doesn’t scratch the surface of truly knowing this experience.

javier peña masterlist

Initially, he doesn’t seem impressed that you are here. 

Not at your presence, or that you’re standing in his office, bag in front of your thighs as you introduced yourself—never mind why you were here. 

There was often little choice where you were sent. Assistance and special interests are rarely ever needed all at once. 

Not that it matters, Javier Peña seems even less interested as to the reasons you’re here, or that you were sent here. Under it, though, you see something else. It's fleeting—breezing past like curtains caught in a draught—but he looks worried, concerned. 

He does a good job at burying it, stuffing it down as he stares down at the file again, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. 

He does give you the nicety of looking at you when you talk, eyes, all hard and umber, flicking from the paper in his hand to you. Then, his eyes take in the sight you knew he would find eventually, the thing you don't hide, but rather wished you’d gotten to your credentials before it was spotted. 

Then it flushes across his face, the flattening of creases and the immediate shift to concern. 

You’ve grown good at reading people, having been around people who make assumptions as an occupational hazard. You’ve become well versed in reading lips, and the minor inflexions around them—the subtle shifts of their eyes, the way their lips try not to curl. 

From the looks of it, if he had wanted someone, he had at least wanted someone who didn’t need an aid to hear him. And you foolishly wished to support someone who hadn’t written you off the moment you arrived, something you’d have commented on, if not for the fact you really wanted this particular job. 

His eyes keep glancing over it—the cochlear implant—the object that allows you to do what you’d always wanted to and what you're good at. 

Languages have always fascinated you, even with the clock ticking on how long you could hear them being spoken. It’s why you knew you’d be helpful—laundering didn’t tend to stick in one county, never mind the country. 

“I don’t mean to be….” 

You lick your lips, letting him do what he feels he must. Albeit softly, kindly. 

“You can’t… you can’t go out—it’s dangerous and—“

Unmeaningly, you smile. “I’m aware I’ll be office-based, Mr Peña. But, a lot can be done from a desk.” 

It leaves your tongue harshly, even if you don’t mean it to be. Even if his tone was the polar opposite, gentle, soft. 

The rules of what you can and can’t do are firmly etched into your brain the number of times you’ve heard them. The amount of languages you’ve heard it said to you in—hell, someone had even once signed it. 

It’s as though each time, they think you expect to run off with a gun and a badge rather than assess case files and assist. 

“If you could show me where I can sit, I’ll get started—I was told you had transcripts I could read.”

He seems to run his tongue against his teeth before throwing the paperwork down on his desk. 

The pile there large, sat at all angles, like adding to it is his hobby rather than sorting it. 

He introduces you to his deputy—a man who tries not to stare but does so all the same. It’s his name, you remember on the initial paperwork: N. Stoddard. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Stoddard.”

“Neil,” he says, wiping his hand on his trousers before extending it. 

Shaking it, your grip firm—just like you were taught—you stand a little straighter, spine a little stiffer, feeling brown eyes still on you. 

In time, you’re left alone. 

Playing catch-up is never fun. A risk of information overload set to hit at any moment, but able to keep it at bay with sugary snacks and coffee. 

In the following days, you find it’s easier not to meet his eyes. To not suffer the same fate as the other women in the building—the ones who all sigh in the same horrid pitch that vibrates through your brain. 

If he looks your way, someone else—an intern, a busybody—swoops in, desperate to remove you from the playing field. Because it’s a game getting noticed by him, each one stepping up to the plate, batting and seeing who can score. 

All he ever manages to ask is whether you’re okay before his attention is needed. 

You’re not sure you believe all of the reasons people give. But then, none of them realise you’re not interested in playing, not knowing that truthfully, as handsome as he is, even spending an evening with someone you assume wouldn’t be able to speak to you without your aid is more tiring and lonely, than declining the opportunity. 

Even if, irrespective of the fact Javier Peña spoke Spanish and English, you doubted his language skills spread into Lengua de Señas Colombiana or ASL. Something you weren’t about to put to the test, time ticking, case mounting—there was little need in getting attached. In forming anything outside of polite behaviour and yes sir. Even if he had softened, even if he saw something in you that was worth keeping around. 

Not that he shows that all too much to you, barely letting a glance fall in your direction. Occasionally, he’ll look, ask if you got that, whether he needs to repeat it. 

With others, you’d have bitten back that you can hear him perfectly, but with him, you swallow it. Let it erode a hole on the tip of your tongue, suspecting he didn’t mean it as condescending as it came out. 

You still do respond with a gesture—a thumbs up, an okay sign, just to stick the point in. 

It seems he’s wired to keep everyone at arm's reach, you assume. Likely making up for something, a wrong or a right—you can’t be sure. So, you don’t assume, you’re too busy, too much needing to be checked, typed.

The more transcripts come in, the less it all makes sense. Your fingers typing, trying to find some pattern, so no one has to risk involving the wife. 

It’s easier to fake being a workaholic as the reason you don’t look up at him when he walks past. When you keep your chin dipped when the end of the day arrives. 

Because even if you’re here to help process legal paperwork, to be the middle person and keep the peace, you couldn’t help but notice that he was good-looking. Somewhat reserved, but handsome. 

Something you get to see firsthand a few days later, finding him standing at your desk, fingers tapping against the wood. 

At first, you don’t dare look up. Your stomach drops, your implant thrown in your bag—the lump in your throat from your earlier sob all returns.

You had known the day would end badly from how your morning began. An overslept alarm, a coffee-stained blouse and your lunch on the floor in a mess—and that was before you got in. 

Then it was rushing, snagged trousers on a desk end and no batteries for your cochlear implant in your bag. 

You reach for a pen, for paper—glancing up again, and it’s like the lights have been switched on, suddenly seeing what everyone else falls for.

The brown pools in his eyes—how they coax you in. Call for you. They make you forget how to think, breathe and recall. Mainly because, unlike usual, they’re soft, wide and large. They’re full of empathy and pleading for forgiveness—

Shit. He’s speaking. 

His lips moving. Your brain quickly, and already, works a translation out as your forehead creases and your lips slide up into your cheek. 

He’ll remember—you think. He’d stared at it enough in the moments you’ve been around him that he must. 

But, the longer he talks, the more you fear that won’t be the case. 

It’s why you stop him. 

Racking your brain for the sign in ASL before slowly raising your index finger, moving it to your cheek near your left ear—to a spot close to your lower cheek, and signing to him.

His lips stop moving, sliding to a halt as he stares. And you grab a scrap piece of paper, your pen gliding over the sheet in the neatest you could get it:

I can’t hear you. Ask someone else. 

Javier considers it. Leaning more so on your desk.

Doing so with a tilt of his head and a stroke of his jaw, the sleeves of his jacket rolled up—allowing you to see how his veins twitch and his muscles flex as he thinks. 

Gesturing for the pen, he takes it, adding in neater writing than you banked on: 

You don’t want to help me?

You smirk, looking up and finding him watching you—smiling. 

Suddenly, you’re unsure whether you should remind him you can lip-read. That if he sticks to one language, you’ll be able to keep up. 

Instead, you take the pen back, seeing something dance in his eyes, you know you should run from. But you don’t. 

Can you sign?

Biting the inside of his mouth, he at least attempts to look guilty as he shakes his head. Gesturing, taking your pen, fingers brushing against yours ever so delicately. Likely purposefully. 

But I will learn. 

You snort. In all of your free time? you wonder, and from the way his eyes open a fraction wider, he reads your mind. 

Staring, wiping his thumb over his lips as you stare at the imperfect handwriting with the perfect Spanish. You write:

I caught one word. Ask again, but slower. In one language. 

It shifts, changes. Like day into night, like spring into summer. Things bloom. 

Days bleeding into a week, a week ticking up to a month. The hours together, even with his meetings, growing, rooting something down that you know should worry you. 

Because he’s not like this with Neil. 

Neil who can hear him, and likely always will; Neil who works here permanently, and won’t be whisked away when all is said and done. 

You let it happen anyway.

Watching it begin with him checking in, not just sending Neil to do so. His care spreads into offering you a drink, slowly mastering the perfect way you take it. 

He hovers, and you don’t hate it. 

An attachment forming, weaving itself between the two of you, pulsing—and you should stop it. 

There’s fleeting things, ones which seem obvious, but it’s better to ignore. The way he moves you to the side of the pavement away from the cars when you find yourself going out for lunch at the same time as him; when he realises that you find it easier if he sticks to one language, not doing an oddly beautiful mix of Spanish and English. 

You make him laugh, and he makes you smile. 

Something you’re sure countless others do, but you try not to linger on it. Instead, finding his eyes barely glance at the thing, which helps you hear the sound he makes, instead only looking at you. 

It’s why you don’t argue that you can’t go with him to Curaçao. Instead, you pack a bag—finding a rationale for the reason you’re on a plane, foot almost brushing his as you sit opposite. 

“You stay out of sight, you’re here for—“

“My tongue,” you bite back, not glancing up, but smirking at the way the air shifts. “I know, Javi. You don’t need to read me my rights.” 

He leans back, elbow meeting the armrest, studying you—thumb swiping his bottom lip. A movement you notice he does a lot, so frequently, you almost fear you’ll mirror it. 

“¿Qué?” you ask. 

He shrugs, thumb still tracing. “You’ve never called me Javi.” 

Closing the file, you cross your leg over the other, the tip of your shoe brushing his in the act. “Well, I’ve never been taken from my desk.” 

It’s chaos. 

An inevitable coincidence when he takes off in a run, and Javi follows. Pink shirt blurring in the distance, your feet slowing to a near jog, knowing you’d never be able to keep up. 

You try, because you’re stubborn, difficult. 

A person who should know better, and yet finds herself very much somewhere you shouldn’t be—just because he asked nicely, and did so following a flurry of compliments. 

You’re good, really good. You seem surprised.  No. Not surprised. Just… Surprised? Alright, you got me, muñeca.  You calling me muñeca cause I’m fragile?  No, just other names seemed inappropriate. 

It’s muñeca that circles your mind as you follow the mess the chase leaves behind—the shouts, the knocked-over furniture and the way the crowd parts like the sea. Your hands brush past people, guiding yourself back to him—to them. Your body catches shoulders, head almost knocks against walls as you try to follow. Running, fleeing—calves burning as the sun beats down on your skin. As your arm throbs from meeting a wall, a graze most likely being a badge you’ll wear for a few days. 

Chest burning as you reach the square, finding pink and a crowd gathered you let a breath soak into your lungs. Taking another and another, steadying your pulse as you watch him raise a gun. You brace, but find nothing. 

Just a shove and push of the crowd. 

And nothingness. 

Nothing. 

It dawns then, as your blood stops thumping in your head. It rushes through you, crashes and slashes the relief at catching Jurado, because you can’t hear. 

It rises like fire, spreading from your stomach and growing up your oesophagus. Disorientation mixing with loss, hand clutching the place it should be, eyes scanning the floor in circles as you pace and retrace. 

It stings—the tears which come thick and fast. Your hand remaining against your ear, unable to catch each gasp from a sob, doing so, even if you can’t see through the thick pain coated in your eyes—

You’re spun, finding brown eyes, tousled hair and a pink shirt. Soft, but slightly calloused fingers, slide down your forearm.

He spots your tears, taking the sight of you in as his other hand cups your chin, tilting you to face him. Those brown eyes, the ones softening second by second, making you swallow, making your brain empty—

He’s speaking. A blend of languages from the look of it, mixing from one to the other, jumbling whatever thought process you had. 

Lips moving quickly, fingers wrapping around your forearm, and you stare. It takes a second, your mind slowly engaging, before you lift your hand, tapping against your ear as you frown. 

It’s then you can read it. Now he’s slowed his lips and chosen one language. 

You can’t hear me?

You shake your head, unsure how to begin to explain, without sign language or paper, that you lost it somewhere in the chase. Your fingers pointing to your ear, moving your arm, signalling to him, but you could feel it—the dread. It creeps over you, half-expecting him to excuse himself. 

But instead, he releases his hand from yours, asking with precise fingers and a concerned look if you’re hurt—if you can walk. 

Answering with head shakes and signs in response, your eyes still brimming with tears—throat choked by emotion and the lack of sound. 

There were moments, fleeting since you’d arrived in Colombia, where there had been no sound to the point it had hurt your head, and now you missed how loud it all was—missed the liveliness of it. 

That feeling sitting with you, drenching you as he leads you into a car, and then a car into a plane.

It’s only after take-off, the sensation of being in the air felt by every bone, do you think, do you replay it all. 

He’s lost in talking to Jurado. His words are not easily untangled, but his focus on him is enough to tell you that you can relax. 

That’s when it floors you: 

He signed. 

Not once, twice or even thrice. He signed a multitude of times. In the square, in the car—even as you boarded the plane. 

Your eyes look up, glancing over, finding his fingers wrapped around his chin, staring—as if waiting for you to notice.

He must read minds, concluding that you’ve figured it out. Not saying a thing. Neither of you is signing a vowel. 

Not doing so until the wheels of the plane land in Miami, the people waiting to take Jurado do so, leaving the two of you for a moment. 

He must wait for you to move, unbuckle your seatbelt and go over. But you don’t. The minutes collected, eventually finding him coming closer, sitting in the opposite seat—the table folded out without glancing at it. Pulling out paper and a pen. 

Then he writes: Told you I’d learn. 

You smirk, licking your lips, taking the pen—the one you realise is yours. You want a medal for learning a few phrases?

Tilting his head, he smirks back. Mirroring yours. The two of you sit in it, until you unbuckle your belt—shifting to the edge of your seat. 

Now we’re done, I’ll be sent to another office. 

He nods, smirk lessening as he takes the pen. I know. 

The sorrow etched into his face is one you feel thumping in your chest. A longing to stay, to help in some other ways, not that you’re sure how. 

Taking the pen, you offer a smile before you write quickly: 

It cannot hurt to do this, then.

His eyes glance up to meet yours as they register, watching you move close—confusion melting outwards just in time for you to lean forward and kiss him. 

A thank you, initially. 

All soft, delicate—more testing the waters than anything else. Until, his lips move with yours. Thanking him again, thanking him for the kindness in the square, for trying. 

Feeling that same palm cupping your cheek as he deepens it, as he holds you close, the other hand sliding along your knee. 

It’s wrong, most likely—a breach of some kind of contract you signed. But, then, you weren’t meant to have left, to have gone with him, faux-finalising other documents in the air when you should have been on the ground. 

So, this—giving in—kissing him, was minor. 

an: to the anon, you deserve the world. thank you for trusting me with this.

[weird-an]

"So, Hargrove," Harrington says, stretching his long limbs out on the deckchair, water drops glistening on his chest hair, skin turned golden from the sun. "Isn't it a good idea to spend the summer here?"

Billy isn't really sure about that. He isn't exactly friends with Harrington. Spending a summer at the Harrington's summer residence near Sweetwater - because of course they have a whole ass mansion with a giant pool and marble everywhere - was at least better than staying home.

With Neil. Neil who is already calling him useless and a failure before he has even started college.

Harrington asked him, drunk on champagne and the last day of school. Billy can't remember agreeing himself, but Tommy did, loud and obnoxious as usual.

But here? Soaked in sunlight, sipping Campari and swimming in the pool? Having dinner every day, not just scraps from the kitchen or greasy fast food?

Yeah, that's not too bad. Especially when Harrington looks at him like that, with his big brown eyes and crooked smile.

"It's alright," he says, sucking on his cigarette. "Everywhere is better than Hawkins."

"You got no idea how right you are." Harrington throws his head back and laughs. Billy watches his Adam's apple bob. He can, today, because Tommy has pissed off today, too hungover and bitchy for a reason Billy doesn't know or care about.

"C'mon," Harrington gets up and grins at Billy. There's something dark lurking behind pearly white teeth, sending a shiver down Billy's spine. "It's no summer without skinny dipping, right?"

Billy freezes, feels almost caught, like they are back in the locker at school and someone saw him staring.

"It's noon," Billy says with a frown.

"Who gives a fuck." Harrington takes a gulp from his glass, a red drop of Campari stays on his lips.

Billy can't look away. Harrington licks it off. His tongue is pink. Billy wonders what it tastes like.

"C'mon, Billy." Harrington pulls down his swim shorts. "Don't be boring."

"Fuck off." Billy Hargrove is everything but boring. He slips out of his shorts and presses his cigarette out in the crystalline ashtray.

Harrington smiles at him, eyes wandering across his skin, lingering on Billy's cock. Or at least, Billy thinks so. He tries not stare at Harrington's. He can't be that. Not here. Not now.

"Let's get you wet," Harrington says with a wink, taking the bottle of Campari and jumping into the water.

Billy only sees a blur of red and blue - and the pale of Harrington's ass. Suddenly he finds himself in the water too and realizes he has underestimated the depth of it.

[phosphorescentdreaming]

Politely requesting Jean and Andrew drabble. Andrew teaching Jean how to have boundaries and stand on his own two feets. 👉👈

"What are you doing?" Andrew's words pierced through Jean's racing thoughts, ringing like a church bell through the cacophony that had Jean picking at the beds of his fingernails. Andrew fixed him with a level, expectant stare.

"I do not know," Jean admitted to him while trying to keep his own words from getting caught inside of his chest. The edge of his right thumbnail had begun to bleed, but that didn't stop his index finger from continuing to dig into that same spot. The mild sting was enough to keep him on his feet and breathing: a small victory. Andrew didn't speak again, and Jean felt compelled to fill the silence. "I do not speak to the press. It's forbidden. I have never had any kind of training. I am sure to say something that will bring shame to my team." His voice grew more and more tight in his throat as he continued. "I am not allowed to speak. All that I am worthy of is a position on the court. Yet they wish to put a camera in my face and have asked me to smile and wish me to lie about my sentiments of the game."

"Then don't do it."

The suggestion was so utterly absurd to Jean that it snapped him momentarily from his rising anxiety and panic over the situation. "What?" he asked with no small amount of incredulity.

"Tell them no," Andrew rephrased his suggestion. When Jean looked at him like he'd completely lost his mind, Andrew only shrugged and quoted Bee. "It's a complete sentence."

"You're mad."

"Not anymore." Andrew seemed mildly amused by a joke that Jean didn't comprehend.

"They'll be furious," Jean countered.

Andrew raised an eyebrow at him and looked over to the Trojan benches beside the court. The crowd of red and gold was filled with laughter and animated conversation. Upon looking their way, Jeremy beamed and waved to them, arm over his head. "Sure," Andrew snorted, voice saturated with sarcasm, "and they kick puppies for fun."

"I am serious," Jean bit out, irked that Andrew wasn't seeing things from his point of view.

"Look, either you do the pre-game interview, or you don't. If you do it, there's no way you can say something worse than Neil does just for shits and giggles. If you don't, they'll send someone else to do it." Andrew looked back to Jean, chin tilted up so he could meet his gaze. A moment of silence passed between them before Andrew reminded Jean of a fundamental truth he seemed to have forgotten. "He's dead."

Jean's eyes fell to the floor as he let those words sink in. He was silent for so long that Andrew began to wonder if he hadn't sent the man into a fit of catatonia. Finally, Jean spoke. "I am not ready."

"Then go tell them that." Andrew jerked his chin in the direction of Jean's teammates. "They'll send somebody else to talk to the cameras. The world's not going to end because you pass on press duty."

Although unconvinced, Jean gave a slight nod of his head. It took a few more seconds for his legs to work again, but he stepped away from the goalkeeper and began to walk in the direction of the court.

Drabble requests are OPEN