#off. and I know that there are swim shirts but I’ve been swimming since I was a baby so switching to something really covering would likely

[cleocatrablossy]

My reasons for not wanting my boobs have started to expand from sheerly dysphoria to impracticality as well because I’m too fucking tall and skinny for any swimsuits to both fit my build and not come off my breasts.

[nickfowlerrr]

right where i need you

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut. established relationship. fluff. unprotected sex in the kitchen - sorry not sorry. and not much else, really! if i’m forgetting something pls lmk.

words: 2.3k

notes: i haven’t stopped thinking about him in that damn white tank since i first saw it and honestly i don’t know if i ever will. here’s just some random smut for you, inspired ofc by said white tank, please enjoy. thank you in advance for reading and as always - reblogs and comments are welcome and so appreciated! let me know what you think. 🩵

You can’t be held responsible for this.

It’s really not your fault.

He’s the one looking so…him.

It took one little look. And now here you are.

You’re not complaining! But when your phone starts ringing with texts in about fifteen minutes asking where you are and why you’re late, well… you can deal with that later.

You had padded down the hall, hair and makeup done and dress unzipped with your heels in your hand.

Did you really need his help to zip it up? No. But you can’t pass up the opportunity to feel his hands on you, even for a second.

He got home not too long ago so you know where you’ll find him, but he hasn’t come into the room to say hello, so you’re not exactly sure how you’ll find him.

You started considering skipping out on girls night the second you heard him come in without his usual greeting, and that is still definitely on the table. You haven’t been seeing him as often as either of you would like lately, and as much as you love your friends, you had brunch together last weekend, it’s not like it’s been ages… They wouldn’t be too upset, you’re sure.

You decided you’d make up your mind when you saw Bucky.

You find him exactly where you knew you would. He stands at the kitchen counter, his hair mussed, shirt discarded as he’s clad in his black pants and white under tank. He’s hunched over a bit and yet he still looks so big.

You smile wearily as you assess him from behind. He seems tense and tired and you can easily guess why. He’s been working nonstop for the past two weeks, you know he’s exhausted.

You walk closer to him and he turns to face you as you near his back.

He may be exhausted but damn he always manages to still look good. You’re almost envious of his natural allure.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets with a rumble as you reach out to touch him, your hand on his side as you step closer to him. His own find your waist as he pulls you in to hug you. “You look beautiful as ever,” he murmurs softly, holding you tighter than you’d expected.

“Hi, baby,” you ease back. It’s not a pet name you use often, but it slips so easily from your tongue as he holds you and you hug him back.

“Thought you woulda been gone already,” he says as you pull back from him, your eyes meeting as he keeps his hands on you.

“Not yet,” you say, “can you zip me?”

He smiles at you and you turn around, allowing him access to the zipper. He keeps a hand on your hip as he slowly works the zipper up the dress, taking his sweet time. Once he’s got it, he runs his big hand down your back and then settles it on your other hip, giving you a squeeze.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to face him once more, “So,” you broach, “how was your day?”

“Ah, we don’t need to talk about that right now,” he tries to brush off.

“Bucky,” you start to admonish before he interrupts you.

“Have I seen this dress before?” He asks as his hands wander along the fabric, his eyes following your every curve.

You sigh, letting it go for now, “No, it’s new.”

“Looks good on you,” he compliments.

“Thank you,” you smile with a titter.

He blinks at you, his eyes swimming with something you aren’t sure you can name as his big hands find your bottom.

“I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

You nod, softening as you step closer to him, “I’ve been missing you, too.”

He gives your ass as squeeze as you lean into him and you don’t even realize you’re doing it as you let your gaze wander down his sturdy chest to where his tank top is still tucked into his pants. He’s so built and so big, you’re damn near obsessed. And God, you really have been missing him.

His warmth, his touch, his everything.

You only realize you were biting your lip as his thumb comes up to pull it from your teeth. And you only realize your hand has been drifting down his thick, strong torso when you brush the top of his pants.

You meet his eye and you need no other warning of what’s about to come as you see the longing there.

His hand is holding your face as he licks his lips without thought. His eyes drift from yours to your lips and then all at once he’s on you.

His kiss is fervent and hot as he leads you. You let him turn you as you’re entirely enraptured in his kiss. You don’t recognize the counter at your backside as you kiss him back until he lifts you up without warning. His strength is always so impressive to you as you yip and reach to hold onto him despite the fact you’re already sitting safely by the time you do.

Your legs spread enough to welcome him as he stands between them, your dress already ridden up your thick thighs. His kisses are incessant as he holds you, his hands and lips both wandering what belongs to him.

Your hands are in his thick, dark hair as he attacks your neck and you can’t help the moan that slips past your lips. You can feel his smile against your skin as he hears it, like music to his ears.

You pull him closer with your leg around him as he pushes up the material of your dress until it’s around your waist. His hands move higher and once he finds the top of your dress, he pulls it down too, taking your strapless bra with it. He unhooks it easily and tosses it aside while avoiding unzipping the dress for you.

His mouth is on your full breasts the moment he exposes them; licking, nipping, sucking at your nipples while your back arches and you moan at the feeling.

“Buck,” you eke out your plea, tugging at him.

He doesn’t stop but his hands do move down to undo his pants. He pulls away after a second and pushes them down enough to free his stiff cock. He pulls you closer to him and then drags your silky panties down, tossing them with your bra before he situates himself back between your spread legs.

The feeling of his hand on your bare thigh is enough to set you on fire. He squeezes the ample softness there as he feels you, letting his hand slide up your leg to hold your hip.

You’re definitely gonna be late now, but it really isn’t your fault. They can’t blame you. And even if they could, you don’t think you’d really care.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you feel his cock head at your entrance.

“So wet,” he murmurs as he drags himself up and down your slit teasingly, earning a whimper from you. “I know, baby,” he chuckles, looking up to meet your puppy dog eyes, “I know. I’m gonna give it to ya, know exactly what you need, sweetheart,” he says, his words smooth as silk as he talks huskily.

He guides himself back to your slick entrance and right before he starts to push into you, he makes sure your eyes are on him, and of course they are.

You hold eye contact as he slowly moves into you, your lips parting on a gasp the deeper he goes. Your hands are messed in his hair again as your walls involuntarily squeeze his length inside of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. You pull him closer, angling yourself to kiss him again as he slides the rest of the way into your tight pussy. He kisses you back just as fervently as before as he starts to pull out of you before thrusting right back in. His thick cock dragging perfectly along your tight walls as he fucks you. His hand tightens on your hip as you squeeze him again, his eyes squeezing shut as he moans in turn, but his pace never faltering.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself to him as he holds your waist. His cock hitting deeper with his every thrust. You’re already on the brink of your orgasm as you bury your face in his neck, breathing him in as he fucks you in perfect time. His grunts and groans and moans fill your ears as your own spur him on.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he pants as he squeezes you again. You kiss his stubbled jaw, arching into him, “Missed you,” you mewl. You suddenly feel his thumb on your clit and you gasp out your moan.

“Bucky,” you cry, hands gripping his solid back.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he husks, “come on. Let go, baby. Come for me. Need to feel you come around my cock,” he grits, working your clit in tight circles as you clench around him, eyes squeezing shut and arms holding him ever tighter. “Need to feel you,” he begs a little quieter, almost as if he was talking to himself.

You can’t hold back any longer as his cock hits that special spot inside you once again while his thumb is ceaseless on your sensitive clit. Your face is in his neck as you quake against him, coming hard. Your body feels alight and electric, sparks of unadulterated pleasure shooting through you as you shudder and moan at the overwhelming feeling. Waves of ecstasy washing over you as you moan and whine in Bucky’s ear.

He doesn’t relent as he works you through your high and pushes himself closer to his own, praises for you and groans of his own pleasure sounding from him as he fucks you, making sure you feel every inch of him, his hands gripping your ass as he keeps you close.

Your walls pulsing around his length have him growling as he teeters on the edge of his orgasm, but it’s your soft moan in his ear as you hold onto him that really pushes him over the edge. You sound so pleased, so satisfied and debauched and it’s all because of him. It’s all for him.

You gasp as he comes inside you, curses of pleasure and your name on his tongue, his hot cum filling you up as he slows his thrusts. You feel his lips on your temple and then your cheek as he kisses you gently while he comes down. Your walls still squeezing him softly as you do the same until he finally pulls out of you, tucking himself away.

You hold his face in your hands, admiring him for a moment before you pull him closer for a kiss. He still stands between your legs as he lets you pull him further into you before you finally let him go.

“I’ve really missed you,” you murmur. “I know you’re off all next month, and we’ll be around each other, be able to make up for lost time,” you smirk coyly, “but,” you breathe, “still, I kinda just wanna stay here with you tonight.“

“Yeah?” he asks with a half smile, “what about girl’s night?”

“They’ll survive without me.”

“You really don’t have to cancel your plans for me, sweetheart,” he assures you, that look in his eye telling you more than his words. He doesn’t think you mean it, doesn’t want to seem like he wants you to stay just as badly as you want to… “I think I need some alone time, anyway,” he adds - now avoiding your eye as he speaks, and only fueling your previous suspicions as he fixes the top of your dress, taking a second before he wraps his arms around you. You let your own slide around his neck as he rests his head on your chest.

“I don’t think I believe you,” you reply easily with a kiss to his hair before you urge him back and get off the counter.

He watches you as you turn around, your back to him. “Unzip me?”

He does as you ask, after a few seconds.

You shimmy the dress off and don’t look back to him as you go for your phone set on the opposite counter. You shoot your friends a text letting them know not to expect you tonight as you feel Bucky at your back.

“You don’t have to stay for me,” he says again, even softer now.

You turn to face him, meeting his eye, “Tell me you want me to leave, and I will,” you say.

He bites his lip as he watches you intently, shaking his head a bit before he speaks, “I can’t.”

“Didn’t think so,” you smile triumphantly.

You take his hand in yours and pull him out of the kitchen, down the hall to your shared bedroom. He follows with no complaint.

“You shower, I’ll clean myself up a bit, then cuddles and talking, and then… round two?”

“And three,” he agrees, pulling your naked body against his still clothed one before he kisses you again. “And dinner somewhere in between.”

“Sounds good,” you smile against his lips. “The usual?”

He nods, “I’ll call it in when we get outta the shower.”

“We?” you quirk a brow, noticing the twinkle of mischief in his bright blue eyes just a moment too late.

You yelp as he picks you up effortlessly in his inhumanly strong arms, his mirthful chuckle sending butterflies alight in your belly as he smiles that charming smile at you.

“We,” he confirms, walking you both into the bathroom, with no complaint from you as you relax in his hold.

God, have you missed this.

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 8: The Reunion

“Oh god, look at all these people,” you mutter, looking around the hall the award ceremony from your seat in the developer section, which is full beyond capacity. “Don’t think I’ve seen this many people before.”

The last time you saw so many people was your graduation night at Gotham Academy, but this makes that look like a small office party in comparison.

(There is no need to fret. You have polished your speech to perfection and have rehearsed it so many times you can recite it perfectly in your sleep. And when you are done, all will cheer for you.)

You smile at its words. No matter how uncertain you feel, the Megamycete always has your back. You’d hate to think where you’d be without it.

Well, without the Megamycete, you’d probably be dead.

“Wonder where Alfred is,” you wonder, looking around at the back of the hall. “He said he was coming.”

(We are sure he is here. The butler would swim through shards of broken glass to be here at the biggest triumph of your life.)

You’re so anxious to see the man; it’s been four years since you last saw him in person and you just know he’s going to bring up your lack of visits and probably try to guilt you into visiting since Gotham’s only three hours away, but you intend to stand your ground and go back to Goodsprings tomorrow.

“I hope he likes the suit I got,” you mutter, messing with your collar for the millionth time, not use to wearing such fancy clothes.

(He will. You chose from among millions of choices and made the best choice. Everyone in the room is no doubt in awe of your superior fashion choice.)

The day you were told you were in the running for this award, you drove to Vegas and spent well over an hour at the Men’s Warehouse, looking over and trying on countless suits. The salesman helped a bit, but many people in the Megamycete’s records included many upper class men, men’s fashion designers, and models, so you were more than capable of picking out a tasteful black blazer with a breast pocket perfect for holding your Momma’s pen, a white button up shirt, and matching black pants and dress shoes.

The clothes looked fine on the rack, but wearing them in public for all to see is something you had to psych yourself up for. You feel like a kid playing pretend with his father’s clothes and everyone knows it. Still, you can’t help but feel like a professional and take a little pride in it.

Just then, the lights dim and the audience cheers as the MC steps on stage.

“Hello, everyone,” he says. “Are you ready to kick off the Golden Games?”

The room fills with thunderous applause and cheers, yours among them. You’ve known about this event for years and have never missed watching it. When you first started your game, you fantasized about being at the Gamer’s Gala competing with your fellow developers for the Golden Joystick, but knew there was no chance your first game would ever make it to the first round of voting. Perhaps your second game. Or maybe your third.

But here you are, at this prestigious event with your first ever game in top contention for a prize so many covet.

You pinch yourself to make sure you’re awake and are pleased that you’re wide awake.

The ceremony opens up with the Golden Joystick for the Triple-A Game of the Year and awards for their various categories, like story, gameplay, music, graphics, etc.

“Alright, with all the big dogs out of the way, we finally get to the indie games. And boy, was this year a massive success for so many indie developers with over fifty percent of this year’s most anticipated games being indie games! Let’s go over your picks for this year’s Indie Game of the Year.”

You get a look at the trophy you and your peers are competing for: the Golden Joystick. As the name suggests, it’s a trophy in the shape of an old fashioned joystick made up of a gold material. For a moment, you allow yourself to visualize winning it and displaying it in your office. Hell, you had a spot on a shelf made for it when you got the email from the event committee that Salvage Rights was a candidate for Indie Game of the Year, even though voting was still ongoing.

The MC begins going through the list of games with said games and their developers being displayed on one massive screen behind him with the game’s team showing up on the other one. With each game mentioned, you think about your Momma; you can remember being at some awards ceremony years ago when one of her books was up for some fancy prize. Even back then, you could tell she was so nervous about getting up and making a speech in front of so many people and having it broadcast for all to see.

At the time, you didn’t understand because she would’ve been given an award and everyone could see. Unfortunately, she didn’t win and while she said she hope to win it, it was good enough to be considered for it, you were pissed on her behalf over it.

Being here, you understand why she felt that way. While it would be a dream come true to win the Golden Joystick on your first ever game, just being here, among your peers, is more than enough; knowing you’re skilled enough to make a game worthy of being judged among the best is a tremendous honor. Plus, the thought of having to make a speech in front of so many people makes you so nervous, you fear you’ll lose your lunch.

God, you wish your Momma was here. This is the biggest moment in your professional life and having her in the audience would make you feel better.

(We are sure she would give anything to be here for you. Wherever she is, she is no doubt watching this moment with unparalleled anticipation.)

“And last but not least, the game that exploded onto the scene a month ago and made a surprise cameo on the voting polls, Salvage Rights by Gould Games,” the MC announces as your game appears on one screen while you appear on the other, lit up by a spotlight.

You feel your face break out into a blush as the room fills with applause and cheers. To know that so many people hold you and your work in such high regard… it’s humbling to say the least.

You wave back and give them a big smile.

Finally, the room quiets down, allowing the ceremony to continue.

“Ok, everyone, with all the candidates on the board.” The screen on the right of the stage lists all the games and their developers, yours the last on the list. “We opened the polls for all gamers and had a record breaking ten-point-nine million ones this year for the Indie Game of the Year, guys!”

The room once again fills with applause and a girl runs from backstage, delivers him an envelope, and runs off.

“It took the Gala Committee a while to tally the votes, but when all was said and done, it was clear who the winner was.” He opens the envelope and a drumroll plays from the speakers to buildup the moment. As he pulls out the piece of paper inside it, you realize you’re holding your breath and your heart’s stopped due to the anticipation. “The Golden Joystick for Indie Game of the Year goes to…” He looks down at the paper and looks back up. “Salvage Rights by Gould Games!”

Your eyes become wide as saucers as you process the words, your heart resumes beating and your release the breath you’d been holding since the candidates were announced. You then realize you’re bathed in the spotlights as the big screen shows you at your seat; the room fills with applause and cheers, many people near you congratulating you.

You get up and walk to the stage, nodding and clapping hands with many you pass by on your way to claim your award. Finally, you make it on stage and shake hands with the MC, who gives you the Golden Joystick.

(This is the only way this could have ended. You worked tirelessly on your game and did not stop until it was the definition of perfection. You were more worthy than any other for this trophy.)

“Thank you,” you say into the mic, silencing the room. “I just want to thank my fellow game developers, the Committee, and especially the gamers, who gave me the opportunity to be here.” This garners more applause. “I have to say, when I first started working on Salvage Rights, I never in a million years thought I’d be here, in the most prestigious gaming event, receiving the greatest award an indie game can receive, but I guess I was proven wrong.”

The room fills with laughter and you sigh in relief. Good, they seem to be liking your speech.

(As they should. You revised it over a dozen times and practiced it in front of your stuffed toys at least fifty times.)

“When I first got into video games, it was just because I was a kid who was fascinated by being able to play on a DS anytime, anyplace. Now, I’m into video games because they are the new medium of art. Think about it, there are games out there that have stories that would made Shakespeare weep, music worthy of being performed in symphonies, and art styles that should be studied by artists hundred years from now. It’s a medium that transcends all others that have come before it.”

More applause. Good, they like it.

“I first started work on Salvage Rights not long after my fifteenth birthday, nine years to the day that I unfortunately lost my Momma to a drunk driver.” You see many people in the audience take notice at this, clearly not expecting to hear something so tragic. “At the time, I was living in a place that neglected me; from the day I first arrived, I was treated like I didn’t exist and any attempts I made to get their attention was ignored.” Clearly your words resonate with people, because you can see a few people tearing up.

“I had someone there I could rely on, and he made those times more bearable, but he couldn’t get rid of that feeling of loneliness that I had felt for years and all I wanted was for my Momma to walk through that door and take me back home. But no matter how much I hoped and prayed, she never came and my loneliness only got worse with each day.

“My only escape from those days were video games. While in real life, I was a nobody in that house, but I was able to dive into one game where I was a noble hero who was destined to defeat the embodiment of evil, or dive into another game where I tamed the mightiest of beasts and triumph over the strongest of champions, or dive into one game where i could master every life skill possible and bring light to a world facing eternal darkness. It was during those days that I learned that games provided an escape from the confines of reality, if only for a little bit. And that’s when I realized I wanted to create a game that could allow someone to escape reality and become the best version of themselves.”

There’s definitely a couple people on the audience crying at this point.

(You have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Time to reel them in.)

“So, I want to thank each and every one of you, both those in this room and watching across the globe, for giving my game a chance and allowing me to fulfill my dream. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

The room explodes into applause and cheers, even a few whistles. I shake hands with the MC once more walk off stage and cross the room back to your seat, shaking hands and receiving pats on the back the entire time.

(A resounding success,) the Megamycete says as you sit down. (They hung on your every word. After tonight, everyone will know of your talent and many will beg for the opportunity to work on their newest project, offering you the world in exchange for your expertise. As they should.)

“Easy, buddy, you’re gonna give me one hell of an ego at this rate.”

(It is only naturally to think so highly of yourself. Compared to everyone in this room, you are a god.)

The rest of the ceremony features trailers for games releasing in the near future and announcements for new titles, making a note to keep an eye on many of them for you to buy on release or pre-order when they become available.

After the ceremony, you follow the rest of the developers to the Developer’s Lounge, a room that’s lavishly decorated and fully stocked with a wide array of food and drinks being served by a dozen waiters, all of it courtesy of Lex Luthor, who is currently talking to a group of triple-A executives, his bodyguard close behind him; many of your peers and various VIPs are already eating, drinking, and talking with other developers, game journalists (ugh), or their personal guests. You gratefully accept a champagne flute from a passing waiter and make your way around the room, looking around for any sign of Alfred.

“Where is he,” you mutter to yourself, scanning the room.

“Mr. Y/N Gould,” a masculine voice calls out to you, making you turn to the source: a tall, blue eyed man wearing a pair of black framed glasses, a grey jacket over a dark blue tie and light blue button up shirt, navy blue pants, and black loafers.

(We sense a spike in your heart rate. Are you alright?)

Oh, you’re better than alright. Some attractive man knows your name and wants to speak to you.

(You are attracted to this man. This is the first time we have ever experienced infatuation firsthand. We look forward to seeing this interaction unfold.)

“Yes,” you say, managing to find your voice. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” the man responds, raising his hand and you accept.

It’s then you notice the feel of something metallic and when you glance at his hand, you see a gold wedding band.

Damn it.

(We grieve the loss of your potential mate.)

Oh well, always lots of fish in the sea.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Kent?”

“Yes, the Daily Planet was hoping to write an article on the winner of the winner of the Indie Game of the Year. Is there anyway I can talk you into doing an interview?”

(He can still be of use to you. By doing this interview, he can help you find you a worthy mate.)

Great, now you have sentient mold trying to play matchmaker. Well, at least you’ll be able to get more people interested in your game. The Daily Planet’s the biggest paper in Metropolis and has decent following around the country.

“I hope you can wait a little while for that interview, Kent.”

You freeze at the new voice, a voice you haven’t heard in over four years. You hope that, somehow, you’ve made some huge mistake and it’s not who you think it is. You then realize that the entire room’s gone silent, sans a few whispers, and now all eyes are on you and the newcomer behind you, Clark chief among them.

You realize that your breathing and your heartbeat have ceased, and the pit of anxiety and fear from earlier has returned, but there’s now rage included in that mix; rage you haven’t felt in over four years. Rage that finally went away when you finally escaped Gotham and put it and Wayne Manor in your rearview mirror.

You feel a hand grasp your left shoulder and out of the corner of your eye, see a tall figure come to a stop to your right. You slowly turn your head to fae the figure and look up to see your worst nightmare: Bruce Fucking Wayne looking down at you, his signature fake ass smile adorning his stupid mug and a champagne flute similar to yours in hand.

He’s dressed far too formal for an event about video games, wearing a designer black suit with matching pants that probably cost more than your car. You can dig through all your memories of the man and never find one instance of the man wearing anything casual. And that smile of his, the one he always flashes to his insufferable blue-blooded friends; you want to punch him so hard in the face that every last tooth shatters, but you manage to put a lid on that urge.

If only just barely.

(What is this shameless heathen doing here,) the Megamycete hisses. (The audacity of this creature to show up on the best night of your life and ruin it. You should kill him. Immediately.)

Right now, you’re really tempted to give him the Joker Treatment.

“I’m afraid Y/N and I have much to talk about.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark stampers out. “Do you know Mr. Gould?”

“I would say so,” he responds in that fake cheery tone he only reserves for galas and paparazzi, those “honeyed words” so disgustingly sweet and fake it makes you want to vomit. Preferably on him. He tries to pull you closer to him, but you’re able to resist it no problem thanks to the Megamycete. “He’s my son.”

And like that, the crowd around you descends into chaos, many of them loudly talking among themselves while others take out their phones and cameras and begin snapping pictures of the two of you, and so many media types are shouting questions towards you and him.

But all that doesn’t really phase you. Right now, you feel as if the world has crumbled around you and now you’re left free falling in an endless void, doomed to spend the rest of eternity in this sort of purgatory.

You’re frozen where you stand, unable to look anywhere else but at the face of the man you hate with your entire being and as you look into those eyes of his, every single memory of your stay at Wayne Manor flashes before your eyes; you’re overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness, loneliness, pain, and humiliation you were forced to deal with during those twelve long, horrible years. Right now, it takes every bit of restraint and willpower you have to not let all the thoughts you have of ripping this bastard’s head off and kicking it so far that every NFL team in the country would offer you fifty million in advance if you signed on with them become reality.

(You should do it. Kill this man. Teach him the meaning of pain. Let him feel all the pain he and his flock have caused you for years and despair. Make him regret ever taking you for granted.)

Ok, your usual voice of reason is now howling for blood. This does not bold well for you.

“Mr. Wayne,” you finally respond, finding the strength to keep your voice steady and not cause a scene (or at least a bigger one than he has already); you brush his hand off your shoulder, making a mental note to burn these clothes (damn it, you paid good money for these). “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, I’m definitely not your son. Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink? Wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. You should sit down before you make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of all these people.”

His smile falls and you can see the hurt shine in his eyes for a fraction of a second. He’s an expert at concealing his emotions, so for you to do something like that makes you giddy.

“Y/N,” he pathetically responds as he reaches out to you, but you take a step back. “I am—“

“You’re a sperm donor, nothing more, Mr. Wayne,” you hiss, revealing in the hurt expression that breaks out on his face. It’s probably fake, a stunt to pull for the crowd, but you don’t care. You’ve held all these feelings in for years and now that you have the chance to give this son of a bitch a piece of your mind, you’re taking it. “You’re not my dad and I’m sure as hell not your son!”

“Y/N, I know I wasn’t the best father to you, but—“

You lose it at that. All the abuse and misery and neglect you had to deal with from him and his kids for over ten years, and he has the nerve to say he “knows” anything about how you feel? In a swift motion, you throw your champagne at him, dousing his face in the clear-yellowish drink that quickly pours down his neck and soaks his expensive black jacket.

The crowd gasps at this, but you absolutely couldn’t give a shit. This was to be the best night of your life and he had to go and ruin it by daring to show his hideous face and dare to have a conversation with you. Fuck, he probably took Alfred’s place, so you had no one here to share in your big moment, something that makes you even more pissed off.

Throwing your champagne at him only made your rage burn hotter, demanding to inflict as much pain and suffering on this man that you’ve suffered for years. You quickly close the gap between you two, deliver a harsh right hook to the right side of the man’s jaw and follow up by shoving the man as hard as you can (though still holding back a lot of strength so you don’t reveal what you really are), causing him to topple to the floor, landing on his ass.

At this rate, you don’t really care what people say about you after this, all you care about is hurting him. You look down at the pathetic wretch at your feet and love the look of horror and pain etched on his face, reveling in the terror in his eye and the blood dripping from his closed mouth.

(Yes,) the Megamycete screams. (More. More. Make him hurt. Make him bleed. Make him realize who the superior one is.)

“Someone call an ambulance, this asshole’s gonna need one,” you growl, pouncing towards the man who made you lose the best years of your life, ready to pound his face so hard that they’ll have to rely on fingerprints to identify him.

Just then, you’re caught in mid-air and when you look behind you, it’s Clark, his arms wrapped around your waist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Mr. Gould,” he says in a tone like he’s trying to soothe a startled animal (which isn’t too far off the mark). “Please, control yourself.”

You don’t want to. In front of you is the man who treated you like shit from the day you two met, making you wish you were in the car when your Momma died so that you never met him. This was suppose to be your night — your moment of triumph — and he had to go and ruin it. And you want nothing more than to put this man in a full body cast, and that’s you being generous.

But when you see the look of total shock on his face, and everyone in the crowd who has the same expression, your rage finally cools down. Not because you feel guilty over what you did to Bruce, you were ready to reduce him to a bloody red paste, but because everyone just saw your absolute worst.

You go slack in Clark’s hold and that’s when he finally lets you go, having to command the mold to reinforce your leg bones to keep you standing because without it, you’re ready to collapse form the burst of energy you just burned through.

“Is there a problem here,” Lex says as he emerges from the crowd, Mercy following close behind. He glances down at Bruce and a ghost of a smirk appears on his face.

“I have an axe to grind with him,” you say, doing your best to even out your voice. “I’m sorry for making a scene.”

“What about pushing Mr. Wayne,” Lex asks, motioning to the man.

“No, that’s something I’m very proud of.”

You can see Bruce flinch at that and it makes you feel good.

“Well, it’s always a pleasure to see Bruce Wayne be taken down a peg,” the man chuckles. He then turns to the rest of the crowd. “Alright, show’s over, everyone. Go back to your own business.”

Slowly but surely, the crowd breaks up and the party resumes, but you can definitely tell many of the media types are still looking at you and Bruce and are no doubt chomping at the bit to talk to either of you, many of them furiously typing on their phones, probably texting their bosses and sending whatever pictures and videos they took.

“Mr. Gould, I’d be honored if you would give me a few minutes of your time.” He extends his arm as if you were a woman. “I have much I’d like to talk with you about.”

You discreetly glance down at Bruce, who looks like he’s ready to do to Lex what you did to him a minute ago. You know that Lex is only doing this to piss off Bruce, his biggest business rival, and is probably using you in hopes of getting some speck of dirt on Bruce and maybe even some Wayne Enterprises secrets.

And god damn it if the thought of that doesn’t make you giddy.

“Of course,” you say in a sweet tone of voice, looping your arm in Lex’s. “The honor would be mine.”

He leads you towards a private area of the lounge and as you pass by Bruce, who’s still on the floor, you glance over at him and give him a dirty look, making it clear that you hate his guts and the next time he tries something like this, you won’t hold back.

You don’t know what Bruce wants and why he’s suddenly showed up after four years of your leaving, but chances are he’s only here to serve his own agenda and you want nothing to do with him or his crazy ass family. You have your own life and are finally happy for the first time in years, and you’ll be damned if you’ll allow all your hard work to be destroyed.

If it comes down to it, you’ll wage war against him and the rest of the Bats.

(Yes, clip their wings. Tear them to shreds. Grind them into powder. Tear down everything that they are and leave nothing behind so they are forgotten by the world.)

Bruce watches as you and Lex wonder off to some desolate corner of the lounge, simultaneously plotting an attack on Lex Corp that will hot Luthor hard and replaying his interaction with you, going through millions of different ways that could’ve gone better. Or at least, not ended with you almost tearing him limb from limb, the only thing saving him was Kent’s intervention.

Ok, maybe approaching you like Brucie Wayne, millionaire playboy philanthropist, was a bad idea, but it was the only way he could think of that wouldn’t scare you off. He really thought that talking to you with his usual charm and bravado would’ve at least given him a chance to talk to you.

All it got him was a look into your temper.

Fuck, the look of pure rage and disgust in your eye the entire time you talked to him. Right now, he just wants to curl up and die, but he also wants to scoop you up into his arms, hug you tightly, and beg for your forgiveness, no matter how much of a fool he made of himself or how much you bite, scratch, and hit him.

It’s then he thinks back on you shoving him and it’s then he realizes it doesn’t make any sense. He’s a solid six-foot-two, way taller than you and while he would never call you weak, you definitely aren’t a bodybuilder, so he should’ve been able to withstand your shove no problem. But he’s been fighting against beings with super strength all his adult life, so he knows the difference between a strong human and a Meta.

But you’re not a Meta, right? He’s spent the last twenty-four hours digging up every piece of information he can on you, your medical records from Southern Hills Hospital being one of the first things he delved into. When you were born, you were a healthy baby boy, no signs of illness and certainly no trace of the Meta Gene. He even has your medical records during your time in Gotham (Alfred being the one to take you to all your appointments because he certainly didn’t do it), and everything points to you being in perfect health.

So, how were you able to shove him like that, a man who goes toe-to-toe with the likes of Bane on a regular basis?

“Are you ok, Bruce,” Clark asks, extending his hand to help him up.

“I’m fine,” he responds, brushing the hand aside and getting up on his own.

“Pardon me if I don’t believe that, I could tell you were shaken up by that.”

If there’s one skill Bruce prides himself on, it’s his ability to conceal his emotions, able to hide his true feelings from anyone and everyone, even from telepaths such as Martian Manhunter.

But seeing how his son, his baby boy, feels about him made him forget his control. Him not being able to hide the pain he felt when you lashed out at him, clearly holding a lot of anger and resentment towards him, was one of the few experiences that has shaken him to his core.

“Mr. Wayne,” Vicky Vale says as she emerge from the crowd and approaches them. “Care to make a statement on what just happened?”

It takes everything he has to not let out a groan. Of course, Vicky Vale is always there whenever some drama happens to either him or his children in public. She had a field day with him when he she asked about his bruises and limp he got last time he fought Killer Croc and he had to play it off as some really kinky sex he and some supermodel had.

“Not now, Vicky,” he responds, leading Clark closer to where you and Lex walked off to. “I have a prior engagement with Mr. Kent here.”

“I didn’t know you had a son before Damian,” Clark whispers as they walk.

“Let’s just say I did everything wrong when it came to him,” he responds back, keeping his voice low. “I found out I screwed up and came here to try to make amends. You know how that ended.”

“I know, we all had front row seats to that. Also, I’ve been listening to his and Lex’s conversation the entire time.”

“What’s that bastard saying to him,” he hisses, pissed off beyond words that snake is talking to you, his baby boy.

“So far, Y/N’s just trash talking you, calling you every name in the book and angry that you ruined his big night.”

Bruce winces at that. He knew it’s Alfred you want here to share in your achievement, but he couldn’t miss this night, not when he’s missed so much of your life. To see you, smiling on stage and acting so humble after wining an award as important as that was absolutely mesmerizing.

Of course, your speech hit him like a freight train. He knew he wasn’t the father you deserved, but to hear you talk about your time with him so poorly was more than he was prepared to handle. Of course you miss your mother and he’s glad you think so highly of her, but is there really nothing he can do to make you reconsider giving him another chance? To give his family another chance?

“Lex is now offering to be a benefactor to Gould Games; Y/N have total creative license on all projects and would be given a massive office in one of Metropolis’ premiere high-rises.”

“In exchange for WE secrets, no doubt.”

The thought of you and Lex working together makes him sick. The man is a snake and wouldn’t hesitate to betray you if it benefitted him in any way. If you need money for your new games, he’d be more than happy to do it! You could be a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises with as large a budget as you want, with your choice of office in Wayne Tower or around Gotham. You’d have all the best computers and software that money could buy and if you need to hire more people, you can choose all the people you want and he’d personally arrange for them to be flown to Gotham, ready to work as soon as possible.

“That’s right,” Clark responds. “Don’t worry, he turned him down. Looks like you won’t be losing nay more money to Lex this year.”

“Y/N doesn’t know anything.”

As sad as it is, that’s the truth; you’d been shut out by all of them that you couldn’t give any of his secrets away. Hell, you don’t even know that you’ve been living with Gotham’s vigilantes.

“He’s been kept in the dark about everything,” he mutters as he looks at you, chatting away with Metropolis’ biggest wannabe.

Maybe he should tell you that he and your siblings are Gotham’s vigilantes? Not that it’s any excuse with how they treated you for yeas, but with any hope, it would make you more understanding on why they were always so busy and at least consider talking with them.

Just then, Clark winces at something Lex just said.

“What,” he snaps.

“Lex just invited him for dinner. And based off his tone, he has more in mind than just business.”

And with that, all he can see is red and he’s filled with rage at the bald bastard.

“Bruce, wait,” Clark calls out as he stops over to where you are.

“Bruce,” Lex says with a smirk as he approaches the both of you. “I hope you’re not looking for another beating from Y/N.”

He looks over to you, your expression clearly indicating you’re visualizing beating the hell out of him right now.

“Of course not, I just wanted to extend an invitation to him for dinner. It’s been forever since we had a father-son dinner.”

“We’ve never had dinner together before,” you snarl.

“His loss, I assure you,” Lex responds, giving you a look that makes Bruce want to punch his lights out.

“Y/N has nothing you want, Lex,” Bruce growls, trying to keep his anger from getting the best of him. “Leave him alone.”

“I disagree, Bruce. Y/N is charming, witty, and a delightful to be around.” He has a twinkle in his eye that makes Bruce even angrier. “He definitely takes after his mother.”

Bruce opens his mouth to spit some insult at the fucker, but you intervene.

“Yes, Momma raised me well,” you say, looking right at him before looking back at Lex. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Luthor, but I’m afraid I’m heading back home first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe the next time I’m in the area?”

“I’m certainly hoping that will be soon.” He pulls out a card and hands it to you. “My personal phone number and email. The next time you come to Metropolis, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me and I’ll see to it you’re afforded every luxury this city has to offer.”

“Thank you,” you responded, taking the card and pocketing it. “I certainly hope to visit again soon. Metropolis is way better than Gotham. Hard to believe that cesspit is its sister city.”

He winces hearing your clear disdain for his city, the home of his family. Your rightful home.

“Indeed,” Lex chuckles. “Gotham is so painfully outdated in every respect it’s almost funny. If I had my way, all of its archaic structures would be torn down and replaced for more modern and aesthetically pleasing replacements.”

“That style is Gotham,” Bruce growls, unable to put up with the disrespect of his city. “Gotham has resembled its current form for over a hundred years now. It’s a reflection of its storied past.”

“A storied past of misery and insanity,” you respond. “Gotham isn’t a place where good people end up. It’s a spiderweb that slowly drains everyone within it of all they have, leaving nothing but empty husks behind. Maybe all of it should be torn down.”

You say the words, but all he hears is his voice. When his parents were killed, he felt the same way about Gotham as you do. It took him years to finally shed his hatred and resentment for the city and see its beauty. As much as you’d probably hate to admit it, you really are his son.

“I’d love to stay and continue this riveting conversation, but I’m afraid I have an appointment across town. He turns to his bodyguard. “Mercy, ready the car.” She nods and leaves. “And Y/N, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in my city. Perhaps you’d allow me the honor of taking you to the airport myself?”

“I’d like that very much, Mr. Luthor,” you say, giving that bastard a smile that makes his blood boil.

“Please, call me Lex.”

“Ok, Lex,” you say with a chuckle.

Oh, he’s going to make Luthor suffer for this. When he gets back to the Batcave, he’s going to plant so many viruses into Luthor’s systems, he’ll spend months recovering a single piece of data.

Finally, the man walks away, leaving you and him alone at last.

“I’ll say this only once, Mr. Wayne,” you say in a tone that shows you mean business. “So listen close: I don’t know what you’re doing here or what you hoped to achieve here, but stay away from me. I’m finally happy for the first time in years and I won’t allow you to fuck it up for me.”

He winces at your words. And the fact that you’re calling him “Mr. Wayne,” like he’s a stranger (though with how he treated you for over ten years, that’s not too far from the truth). He knows that he has no right to be called “dad” or “father,” but you can’t even call him by his name like your siblings do? Do you really hate him that much?

“Y/N, please—“

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, cutting him off. “This is your only warning: stay away from me. I’m not weak like I was when I was first dragged to Gotham. Keep butting in where you don’t belong and I’ll personally reunite you with your parents.”

You go to walk away, but he grabs you by your shoulder. You quickly snap your head to look at him, your expression so full of hate and disgust. He knows this isn’t helping his case, but he can’t let you leave like this; he needs to keep you here so he can talk to you, to beg you for just a few minutes of your time.

You grab his hand with yours and begin squeezing so hard his hand begins to throb and he has to fight to hide his expression of pain from the crowd.

Not only do you not look you visit the gym, but this type of strength is something beyond what a normal human is capable of. Just what secrets do you have?

He meets your gaze and he has to suppress the fear he feels when looking in your eyes. There’s hate in them, no doubt about that, but there’s something else in them. Something dark. It also doesn’t help that you have his mother’s eyes and seeing them look at him that way cuts him to his core.

You shove his hand away from you and you storm off, ignoring as a dozen journalists come up to you and leaving him to stand there, watching you walk away from him and ignoring the throbbing of his hand.

“You ok,” Clark asks after walking up to him.

“No,” he mutters. He looks down at the camera in the Kryptonian’s hand. “Did you take any pictures of him during the ceremony?”

“Yeah,” the reporter responds, holding it up. “I was in the press section of the audience. I got a couple good shots.”

“Send them to me,” he orders while walking off.

Many reporters try to talk to him, but he doesn’t spare them a second glance. Right now, all that matters is planning his next move. You’ve made it very clear that you resent them for how they treated you while you lived with them and while he understands that perfectly, you need to understand that he’s your father and his children are your siblings.

He’s happy that you’ve made a life for yourself in Nevada and are successful in your career as a video game developer, but you’re a Wayne and all Waynes belong in Gotham, under his roof.

He gets his phone out and tells his children to be ready for a family meeting as soon as he returns in the morning. As much as he wants to find a way to bring you back to the fold on his own, he can’t do it alone. With any luck, your siblings will be able to reach you. Hell, he might have to call on Alfred to help bring you home.

He will uncover everything about you (including whatever what you just did) and when he does, he’ll use that knowledge to make you realize you’re son and your rightful place is by his side, where he can keep an eye on you and shield you from the dangers of this world.

One way or another, you’ll come back to Gotham and when you do, he and you’ll siblings will shower you in the love you deserve. And after that, they’ll throw the biggest gala ever, with you as the centerpiece, and show you off as the most important member of the Wayne Family; all of Gotham elite will climb over one another in hopes of courting you, but he and you siblings will never allow them to come anywhere close to you as you won’t need anyone but them to keep you company.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes or what he has to do, he’ll learn your secrets (as is his birthright) and lead you back to where you belong.

Even if he has to drag you back home by your ankles.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @v0idl1nq @diejager @solelifauna @bunbunbread @ratchetprime211 @ellaprime7 @fantasyhopperhea @exactlynumberonekryptonite @bellethesleepypotato @roseytheteacup @orbitingtraveler @lunaluz432

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 7A

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: I’ve pretty much wrapped up part 1. Which is why this is pretty long. I’ll be splitting it into its own 2 parts.

Part 2 comes out next week so I’ll be able to finish the series then! There will be much more Pogue story lines then! You’ll hear more about Maybank Readers involvement with the hunt! Hope you’re enjoying so far!

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst, smut (brief oral, p in v) Ruthie trigger warning.

You and Rafe are up early, getting ready to head out to the beach. You glance at your phone as you head into the closet to change, seeing a new message from JJ.

JJ - 9:04 AM: “Waves look good today. Grab your board and come join us! Unless you’re too prim and proper for us now.” 🌊

You - 9:06 AM: “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to watch you wipe out every time.” 😇

Meanwhile, Rafe is talking about the offer from Hollis, which has been on your mind too. “Y’know, I might be warming up to what Hollis suggested. It could be a good way for you to get established. Make people take you seriously. This is where you’ve always wanted to be, right?”

Surprised by your support, he glances over. “You think?”

You lean out of the closet, watching him pack your beach bag. “I mean, I’ve got my reservations. I don’t trust anyone who speaks so highly of your dad.” He gives you a look, but you ignore it. “And Sofia pushing you to take it? I mean, what does she know? But maybe it’s worth a shot. I just want you to feel good about whatever you decide.”

You step out, holding your bikini top in one hand, catching him looking at you. Smiling, you gently push his face toward the mirror. “A little help?” You pull your hair out of the way, and he ties the strings in a firm knot behind your neck.

“No matter what you choose, I’m here. But honestly, I’m starting to come around on the idea.”

He grins, his hands settling on your hips. “Feels like this is just landing right in my lap, huh?” He cups your face, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek.

“You could make so much money, Rafe.”

“Well, then I guess I’m about to make so much money.” He leans in, trailing kisses from your lips to your cheeks and down your neck as he pulls you closer, lifting you onto the sink. His fingers press into your hips, and you laugh.

“Making money turns you on this much?” you tease, tilting your head.

He smirks. “Guess it does. Though having you there with me doesn’t help.” He tugs at your bikini bottom, dropping to his knees. “Rafe, we need to leave soon…”

“Just a quick taste,” he murmurs, ignoring the clock.

He laps up the wetness that’s already coating you. Bringing his lips up to your clit and sucking on it. He moved his way back down to your hole and swirls the entrance with his tongue. You love how it feels but you want him inside of you.

You place your palm on his forehead and push his head back. He looks up at you with furrowed brows. “Inside, now… please.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” You pull his shirt off of him and he drops his swim trunks to the floor, they pool around his ankles. He undoes the strings of your bottoms, releasing you to the cold air of the bathroom and he pushes up your bikini top.

He runs his hard length through your folds to get it nice and wet and ultimately thrusts into you. You move forward to place your forehead in on. You stare into each other’s eyes. It’s a bit of a strange feeling, you and Rafe completely sober. It’s complete intimacy, neither of you are drunk or high, just looking for a quick fuck with a comfort person. You’re deep in this, you’re both in so much love.

He moves his head down, breaking eye contact, to suck on one of your nipples. One hand traveling to your clit. Rubbing perfect circles on it. Your body arches into him. You moan into his ear and his sends him into overdrive. He’s pounding into you getting you both so close. You grip his shoulders and grind into him meeting his rhythm and clench around him. “That’s it, cum for me, I’m right there too baby.”

His words don’t help and you crash immediately from them. Your legs fall numb and drop from Rafe’s waist so he picks them up and thrusts a couple of more times before he releases into you. You two stay in the same position before Rafe pulls out. He pulls up his swim shorts and walks over to the tub to grab a wash cloth.

He comes back over to you reaching behind you to turn the water on. He smiles at you and you lean into kiss him. You kiss him everywhere, lips, cheeks, neck, chest you don’t want to miss a single spot. Then you just pull him in for a hug. “What are y-?”

“Just hold on a second. I just want to hold you.” He obliges and wraps his arms around your back. You rest your ear in his chest and listen to his heart beat. You’re like that for a few moments when you break. “Can I clean you up now?” You smile and nod and he does just that. Further taking care of you by pulling back down your bikini top and retying your bottoms.

You both stand there for a moment, catching your breath and enjoying the post-coital glow. The water still running, creating a soothing background noise. Rafe gently turns off the water and sets the washcloth aside, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I think I might like this sober sex thing, especially if it’s with you forever,” he says with a smirk. You giggle and roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“I think we might be onto something here,” you reply, leaning in to kiss him again. The water still flowing, the room still spinning, but this time it’s not from alcohol or drugs – it’s from the pure, unadulterated passion and love that you share with Rafe.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You hop off the sink, quickly smoothing out your hair. Rafe grabs the beach bag, and the two of you head down to the kitchen. V’s face lights up as soon as she sees you both, and she cheers. You scoop her up, and Rafe wraps you both in a hug.

Since hiring Elaina as V’s full-time nanny, things have been easier. She’s from the island, Topper’s cousin, though from a more middle class background, working hard at her studies in business while juggling this job. It’s ideal for her, and it’s a relief to have someone you trust with V.

You invited Elaina to come to the beach, but she declined. Just then, Rafe gets a text from Topper. “Alright, we have to head out. Your annoying cousin keeps blowing up my phone. Gotta get there before he does.” You both say goodbye, giving V a quick kiss before telling Elaina to text if she needs anything.

Once you’re in Rafe’s convertible, he passes you the beach bag and jogs over to grab your surfboard. Surfing has been part of your life for as long as you can remember, ever since you and JJ started daydreaming about riding waves far enough to leave everything behind. Most importantly leaving Luke behind.

The drive to the beach is calm and bright, Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh while yours settles on his hand. When you arrive, you spot Topper, Kelce, and Ruthie waiting. After the drama from the other night, you only greet Kelce, deciding Ruthie can deal with being ignored for now. Topper, caught in the middle, gets no special treatment either.

Ruthie’s the first to break the silence. “Hey, Rafe and Y/N. What’s up?”

Rafe breathes out a quick “nothing,” while you offer her a flat, uninterested smile, rounding Topper’s Jeep to get in.

As you head to the sand, you spot the Twinkie nearby and wave to JJ and the rest of the crew. The kooks have parked a bit close, not you or them are thrilled about it. You and Rafe settle down near the water, where he sips a beer, his hand moving gently along your leg as you both take in the scene.

JJ, Kie, and Sarah are already in the water, with JJ teaching Sarah how to surf. She catches on quickly, and you watch them, smiling. You steal a glance at Rafe, trying to read his expression, but he’s a mystery.

When Sarah steps out of the water, you turn to him. “Want to go talk to her?”

He shifts, but shrugs it off. “She can come to me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know that’s not how this is going to work, Rafe.”

He starts to argue, but JJ interrupts. “Yo, sis, you riding or what?”

“Yeah, I’m coming!” You hop up, handing your cover-up to Rafe, who gives you a lingering look. Licking his lips as he looks up and down your body.

“Can you be serious for a moment?” you say, exasperated. “I’ll be the first person to help you here Rafe. But you’re not gonna get anything from her. You have to give it your all, that’s the only way it’s gonna work. You caused the damage you have to fix it.”

Leaving him to think, you grab your board and jog over to JJ. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What’s up with baby daddy? Got another stick up his ass?”

“He’s actually been great, J. Leave it alone,” you snap, cutting off JJ before he can say more. With that, you both rush into the water, ready to surf. The waves carry you effortlessly, and for a while, it’s peaceful, even with Topper and Kelce joining in. But it doesn’t last—JJ blows a wave, causing Topper to wipe out.

“Well, so much for a peaceful day,” Kie mutters under her breath as Topper storms out of the water, Kelce right behind him. You spot Ruthie on the shore, her eyes glued to the scene, already gearing up for her next bout of drama.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

The rest of the afternoon is spent with your family of Pogues, their laughter and banter offering a break from the tension that always lingers when you’re around Rafe’s dry, humorless crowd. It’s freeing, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the other world—the Kooks and their incessant games.

The day flies by, and soon enough, you’re sitting in a circle with everyone when Kie’s voice rings out. “Guys, there’s a turtle hatch!”

Your eyes widen with excitement. “Oh my god! I’ve lived here my whole life and never seen one!” You jump to your feet, helping Kie clear a path for the tiny hatchlings.

The group gathers around, marveling as the baby turtles make their way to the water. You reach for your phone, wanting to capture the moment to show Vivienne later, when the sound of an engine revving cuts through the peace. Your head snaps up just in time to see Topper’s Jeep hurtling toward you.

Heart pounding, you grab Sarah and John B, pulling them out of the way as Kie stands firm, waving her arms to try and stop them. But Ruthie, wild-eyed and relentless, aims straight for her. JJ dives in at the last second, yanking Kie out of the Jeep’s path as it roars by.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?!” you shout, the panic morphing into fury as Ruthie speeds through the turtle hatch, sending sand and broken shells flying. She throws a drink at Kie, drenching her in alcohol before heading back to the cluster of Kooks, who cheer her on.

Kie, now soaked and furious, picks up a lifeless hatchling and starts walking toward the group. Your eyes find Rafe’s, watching his expression as he stands surrounded by his friends, unmoving. Then you look at JJ, who gives you a nod, and together you follow behind Kie.

The anger you’d felt toward Topper and Ruthie since the last confrontation fuels your steps. The sting of betrayal simmers as you realize that Rafe, the man who claims to love you and your daughter, is once again silent when it matters most. He can do it in private but not when there’s too many Kooks around.

Kie’s voice cuts through your haze. “Look at what you did!” She screams at them, but you barely hear the exchange. Your vision tunnels, zeroing in on Ruthie’s smug face and Rafe’s indifferent stance.

Ruthie spits out a threat about being filmed, and without thinking, you snap. “Fuck you, Ruthie,” you hiss, stepping between her and Kie. Topper raises a hand to stop you, but you shove it off your shoulder.

“And fuck you too, you cowardly lap dog.” He blinks, momentarily stunned. “What?”

“You’re pussy, Top. Always hiding behind your girlfriend, letting her pull your strings. It’s embarrassing,” you seethe. He doesn’t say anything, not shocking.

Ruthie throws out another taunt you barely register. Your fists clench, itching to make her regret ever crossing you. But the thought of your daughter flashes in your mind—a reminder of why you can’t afford an assault charge.

You take a breath, forcing your hands down and stepping back. “There is seriously something wrong with you people,” Kie shouts, her voice trembling with rage. You exchange another look with Rafe, one filled with disappointment and disbelief. JJ issues a final warning, promising consequences if they ever come at the Pogues again.

“JJ, let’s go,” you command, your voice tight. You start to lead Kie away when Rafe’s voice, low and almost apologetic, cuts through the chaos. “Yeah, I saw that,” he mutters, siding with Ruthie.

Blood surges hot in your veins at his words as you push over the large speaker Kelce had set up earlier, the crash punctuating your fury. You flip Topper off as he shouts after you, but you’re already walking away, your pulse thrumming with betrayal and rage.

Walking back, you keep Kie close, rubbing her upper arm in an attempt to soothe her. “When you get home, you should hold a little funeral for him,” you suggest softly.

She wipes her eyes, a faint smile breaking through the tears. “That’s a good idea.”

At the Twinkie, you help Kie climb in and press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry, Kie.” She nods silently, eyes fixed on the lifeless turtle cradled in her hands.

With a heavy heart, you move to help pack up the rest of their things, casting a glance at Sarah. She meets your eyes, sympathy etched across her face. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “She’ll be alright.” You step forward, sharing a strong, silent hug, then turn away, bracing yourself for the walk back to the group that now feels so foreign.

As you pass through the cluster of Kooks, you ignore their smirks and jeers, stuffing your belongings into your bag. Rafe steps up, his expression unreadable. “Not cool, Rafe,” you say firmly.

“They deserved it,” he counters, eyes searching yours for understanding.

“I want to leave. Now.” You sling your surfboard under your arm and march off toward the car, determined not to get back in Topper’s Jeep, no matter how far Rafe’s is parked.

Rafe rushes after you, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins pushes you forward faster than you thought possible. You reach the car before he does, rattling the door handle impatiently. When he finally arrives, you snap, “Open it.” He unlocks the door, grabbing your board before you can stow it yourself.

“Maybank, stop it. You’re really going to give me shit over what Ruthie did?” he protests.

You shake your head, a bitter laugh slipping out. “No, I’m giving you shit about your ego. You care so much about what those people think that you can’t say a word, even when you know it was wrong. If the roles were reversed…” He turns away, heading to the driver’s side, but you reach out, grabbing his wrist to pull him back.

“I’m not done.” Your eyes lock with his, demanding his attention. “If that happened to you, do you think any of them would care? Do you think they’d protect you like JJ did Kie? They wouldn’t, Rafe, because you don’t actually care about each other. You only get mad when it makes the Kooks look bad. That’s not real loyalty.”

You take a breath before continuing, your voice steady and resolute. “We might be ‘scum from the Cut,’ but we’re a family. We stand up for each other, no matter what. Something your so-called friends could never understand. You want to be better for V, for me, even for Sarah? Then get the fuck over yourself.”

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, sliding into the car without another word. The drive home is silent, the tension palpable, a stark contrast to the calm of the morning.

When you arrive home, you grab your bag and rush inside. Elaina is feeding V her dinner, and the moment you see your daughter, warmth floods you. “Hi, baby!” you coo, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. V laughs, her giggle a balm to your frayed nerves.

“Hi, mama!” she chirps, eyes sparkling.

You turn to Elaina. “I’m going to take a quick shower. You can head out after that—I’m not going anywhere tonight.” Passing Rafe as he enters the kitchen, you don’t spare him a glance, making sure to lock the bedroom and bathroom doors behind you.

Under the hot stream of water, the tension in your body starts to dissolve. You stay there longer than intended, letting the day wash off you. A sharp knock on the bedroom door snaps you back. Rafe’s muffled voice follows. “Come on, Y/N, open up.”

You dry off at a leisurely pace, slipping into pajamas and combing through your damp hair. The knock grows more insistent, but you take your time applying moisturizer, savoring the rare moment of peace. Finally, you unlock the door.

“Finally,” Rafe mutters, frustration lacing his voice. “Dramatic much?” His tone grates on your nerves, but you stay silent, walking past him without a word. He calls out, “Really?” but you don’t turn back.

Sitting at the table with V, you pick at reheated leftovers as she babbles between bites. Another things Kooks don’t have a grasp on. Practically had to force Rafe to not to throw these leftovers out.

Rafe joins you, reaching out across the table. You glance at his hand but don’t take it. He sighs, retreating as you show V the videos of the baby turtles, willing away the memory of the broken shell in Kie’s hands.

“V, do you know how pretty you are? You get that from your mama,” Rafe says softly. The sweetness in his tone almost cracks your resolve, but you hold firm, in the back of your mind you like the effect you have on him. You get up clearing the dishes and pressing a kiss to V’s head she giggles at your touch.

You set a plate of food in front of Rafe, who looks up, surprised. “I ordered something to be delivered.” You clench down on your teeth and you go to pull the food away but he grabs your hands and stops you. “I’ll have this, I can save that food for tomorrow.”

He’s gonna save his food? It’s getting really hard to not be mad at him. He tries so hard with you. Why can’t he do it for others?

You set it back down again. Grabbing V to give her a bath. You rest your hand in his shoulder and you walk past him. The nighttime routine is mercifully smooth, and soon V is asleep. You’re curled up in bed with a book when Rafe enters, sitting at your feet.

Tbc in Part 7B

Taglist:

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @bigbonenative @writtenbyhollywood @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @leilanizcals

[feeder86]

Selfish

“Why are you arranging to go out with the boys? You know we’re going up to help my parents with redecorating this weekend!” Lucy complained, standing straight up and looking down at Ryan, laid out on the couch.

“We’re doing what?” Ryan asked, completely perplexed. “We were there last weekend!”

“Yeah, and I told my dad you’d give him a hand with the wallpapering this next weekend as well,” Lucy continued in her whining tone.

“Their entire lounge?” Ryan shot back. “Nobody told me!”

“Well…” Lucy mumbled, suddenly realising that Ryan was right. “I’m telling you now.”

Ryan huffed in frustration. He hadn’t had a night out with the boys in months. He’d thought, when he married Lucy, that he was setting himself up for a good life. She didn’t want kids, she wasn’t crazy about him visiting the gym all the time and she was a fully qualified chef! However, two years in and Ryan had never had so little time for himself, endlessly fixing up their apartment just as Lucy wanted it, then constantly heading out to see her parents; always being signed up for some tedious maintenance tasks now that Lucy’s dad was getting on a bit and living off his retirement income. “Fine,” he sighed, deleting his planned message to the group chat with the boys. “I guess I can see my friends when I’ve got a couple of weeks off next month.”

“Oh, yes!” Lucy nodded, making Ryan instantly regret reminding her about his time off. The cogs in her head clearly rolling into action, imagining all of the jobs he could get done in that time.

“Ryan!” cheered his buddies a full nine weeks later, amazed that he had actually made it out. “We haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I’m only here for one of two drinks. I dropped Lucy off in town to do some shopping,” he explained to them, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“You’re not coming to the club?” Adam asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise after giving him the biggest hug.

“No… no. I wish I could, but…” he grumbled, considering the best way to explain how much Lucy was monopolising his time; how frustrating and demanding she had become since they got married. . “...I’ve got commitments,” he simply stated, deciding not to poison his time with his friends by complaining about the person who had kept him away from them for so long. 

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Jack jumped in, filling the silent void that was killing the mood. “Life happens.”

“Jack!” Ryan exclaimed, seeing his high school best friend and doing a slight double take. The guy had altered quite a bit since Ryan last saw him. Where had that double chin come from? How was he filling that shirt with all that padding in his stomach? What the hell had happened? “How long has it been, buddy?”

“I saw you at Ginny and Fran’s house warming, about four months ago,” he answered. “I introduced you to my new girlfriend, Michelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” I remember, Ryan nodded, thinking back to how drunk Lucy had been that night, and how early they had had to leave. But Jack hadn’t looked so overweight back then. They’d tried out their friends’ new swimming pool. Jack had been one of the first ones in. He definitely wasn’t out of shape. Not like he appeared to be now.

As luck would have it, when the guys all went to grab seats, Ryan ended up next to Jack, right on the end of a long, rectangular table. Back in their high school days, the pair of them had been the best of friends, and that old rapport immediately came back every time they met; even after months of separation. Jack had always been the bad influence that Ryan’s parents had never approved of. He’d been banned from hanging out with the guy on multiple occasions when he was growing up and, even now, he still felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t, giggling away at the crude jokes that tumbled out of Jack’s mouth with ease. 

“So, things are going well with Michelle?” Ryan asked, spotting that Jack had already referenced her several times in their conversation.

“Things are going great!” Jack beamed. He leaned in a little closer, clearly not wanting the other guys to hear. “We’ve even talked about getting married!”

At this, Ryan’s eyebrows flew up. “Married? After four months?” he whispered back, knowing that Jack didn’t want this broadcasting. He remembered how promiscuous his friend had been during his college days. If Ryan had been asked to pick any one of the guys here who was least likely to ever settle down, he would have chosen Jack without a second thought.

“I know!” Jack beamed, leaning back and placing his hands on the top of his stout little paunch, which jutted out into a proper shelf as they sat down. “I’m so ready for it though,” he smiled, seeming to rub his stomach mindlessly. “I’m actually really excited about the idea.”

Round and round Jack’s hands went, rubbing that tight ball of stomach fat, pulling Ryan’s gaze into it. “I’m happy for you,” he mumbled back.

Jack looked around, checking that no one else was listening in, then he turned himself a little more into Ryan, about to divulge even more private information. “Michelle’s super kinky!” he whispered.

Ryan chuckled and leaned in as well. His own sex life was so monotonous these days, he was actually quite ready to hear about someone else having a good time. “Oh yeah? She certainly looked pretty flexible when I met her that one time,” he grinned, settling into dirty ‘guy talk’ with enthusiasm.

“Oh, buddy!” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes and giving a huge exhale. “You would not believe it. She has me wrapped around her little finger. Absolutely anything she wants, I do for her.”

“That doesn’t sound too dissimilar to me and Lucy,” Ryan quipped, chuckling at his own joke.

“No, I’m not talking about boring shit, like decorating,” Jack shot back, having heard all about Ryan’s grumblings. “I’m talking about really kinky, submissive stuff.”

“Really?” Ryan smirked. “I never thought she’d be the dominant type.”

“No,” Jack agreed enthusiastically. “No one else knows. She hides it really well.”

Ryan had to admit that he was getting a little turned on. “So, what type of stuff does she make you do?” he asked next; his eyes twinkling with boyish interest, just as much as Jack’s were.

“All sorts,” Jack answered, his hands slipping onto his gut again. “When we started going out, I was still trying to act like the playboy I used to be. Michelle was having none of it. She’s put guys like me in their place before. Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures!” he smirked.”But her biggest turn on is making sure I overeat and get bigger.”

“Seriously?” Ryan asked, now understanding why Jack kept on holding his stomach. “I thought girls hated it when guys put on weight?”

“It’s an absolute fucking dream!” Jack replied, lowering his voice even further. Just the fact that he had sworn showed Ryan how turned on his friend was, simply by talking about it. “I get home and she’ll sit me in my gaming chair and set everything up for me. Then she brings me endless snacks and beers; a few sodas, cream cakes. Michelle won’t even let me get up. I do nothing around my apartment at all! No washing, no cleaning and certainly no cooking! She gets off on controlling my entire lifestyle when I’m at home. Then rewarding me for it.”

“Dude, that’s amazing!” Ryan had to agree, feeling surprisingly jealous. He’d been up until almost midnight last night, fixing a new shelf for Lucy’s candles, whilst his buddy Jack had been gaming, eating and getting pleasured the entire time.

“You see why I’m so keen to marry her now?” Jack joked back. “Can you believe it? I’m actually living out our dream that we used to talk about in high school.”

Ryan looked a little perplexed, trying to remember what they used to talk about ten years ago.

In turn, Jack seemed a little surprised that Ryan was struggling to recall. “You remember? Mr Hanson was such a bad gym teacher, we used to joke that we would just find some girls who liked fat guys and never have to put on a pair of itchy gym shorts again.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan chuckled. “That worked out well for me,” he sighed sarcastically. “I ended up marrying a professional chef, but I’m now ten pounds lighter than I was when we married.”

“Dude, there are other girls out there,” Jack went on enthusiastically. “Believe me! My eyes have been opened in these last few months! If you want the life that I’ve got…” he proclaimed, rubbing his stomach once more, “trust me, you can have it!”

Ryan nodded. No one else had dared to suggest he thought about a life beyond Lucy. Whenever he raised his concerns or annoyances about their marriage, people were keen to stamp them out, reminding him, in their accusatory tones, that marriage was all about compromising. Now, here was Jack, actively encouraging him to imagine being with someone else instead. It was the reason why Jack was, and always would be, Ryan’s very best friend.

Ryan looked at himself in the mirror a couple of weeks later. It was Sunday night. He should have been well rested, and yet he looked nothing but tired. The dirt under his fingernails from digging up Lucy’s parents’ garden all weekend was still visible in places, despite scrubbing for so long in the shower. His ribs were showing in his chest and, although he was built with plenty of muscle, he’d never looked so lanky and slim in his life. He thought of Jack and his life of pleasure and luxury. This… this tiredness and exhaustion was not what he wanted for himself. He looked almost ill.

Life had to change.

Ryan raised his cell phone to the mirror and took a picture of himself. This would be his lowest point, he decided with determination. From now on, things were going to change. He never wanted to see himself like this ever again.

“What’s all this?” Lucy complained, slipping into Ryan’s truck on their way to the supermarket. She held up several pieces of packaging, wrappers from fast food places and sugary snacks. “Is this what you’ve been eating when you’ve been in work this week?”

Ryan nodded without shame. “I feel like I’m too skinny. I’m trying to put on a few pounds.”

“Since when?” Lucy blasted back indignantly. “I’ve never told you you’re too skinny. I like the way you look.”

“I don’t,” Ryan shrugged. “I’ve never liked being skinny. I was always bigger than this growing up. In fact, I was actually quite chubby when I started high school.”

“Well, no. Sorry,” Lucy stated, without compromise. “I’m your wife, and I say no.”

Ryan looked at her in disbelief. “It’s my body,” he declared. “And I want to feel good about it.”

“I said no!” Lucy spat, brushing all the packaging into the footwell and sitting herself down. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”

Ryan got in, sat down and slammed the door shut, neither of them speaking for the entire ride.

‘Fastest ways to gain weight’ Ryan typed into the internet search that evening after Lucy had gone to bed. He quickly skipped through anything that dealt with muscle gains and focused solely on those that promoted increases in fat. He may have married Lucy, but she didn’t own him. In fact, she was the one who needed to learn that more than anyone. This was one ‘no’ that he wasn’t about to cave into.

“You’re looking well,” cried Ryan’s aunt as he stopped over to fix her leaking tap.

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “I feel quite well,” he agreed. “I’ve been trying to put some weight back on these last few weeks. I was starting to get far too skinny.”

“I was saying that to your mom, but she didn’t agree with me. You had gone dreadfully skinny.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. He had always been much more on his aunt’s wavelength than anyone else in his family. “I found some recipes online and I buy in these little calorie shakes that seem to work well on me. I’ve put on about 20lbs altogether,” he explained, raising his shirt briefly to show that his stomach was indeed a little thicker. “Lucy isn’t too pleased about it. But she’s never happy these days.”

“Well, you were never skinny growing up, were you?” his aunt nodded. “You always had a sweet tooth, I remember. You used to eat me out of house and home when you came over!”

“That’s why I’m so tall,” Ryan laughed. “I was always so well fed growing up.”

The pair of them laughed and Ryan packed up his things. In the old days, he would have headed straight home to his wife, but now he was feeling the need to be much more selfish, heading istead to the fast food place he had grown quite attached to and determined that he would at last defeat the Mega Monster Meal that had, up until now, eluded him.

“Come on, we’ve got to go!” Lucy complained, checking the time as Ryan rushed about after his shower. He’d been late home, getting caught up at a job, sending his wife into a tailspin as she tried to get him ready for her friend’s engagement party. She’d laid his suit out on the bed, his underwear, shoes and socks; knowing exactly how she wanted him to look.

Ryan hated being rushed. So what if they missed the first twenty minutes? Was the world really going to end? It was the side of Lucy he hated most, struggling to pull his socks on as his feet were still so wet.

“Oh,” Ryan mumbled, sucking in his stomach and trying to button up the suit pants. He tugged and pulled, holding his breath as much as he could. “I’m too big for them!” he chuckled with amusement, remembering that he had bought the suit for a wedding less than a year ago, when he was much skinnier. “What a waste of money, these were!” he joked lightheartedly. “I only got to wear them once!”

Lucy stared on in horror. She’d told him again and again to cut down on his eating. Couldn’t he see how bad he looked? Wasn’t he ashamed of how his stomach was starting to develop into a little paunch.

“Relax,” he whispered back, trying to calm her down. “I’ll just pair the jacket with my jeans and then we can head straight out.”

However, Lucy’s face had flushed with anger. “No,” she declared, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going by myself. I’m not being seen with you, looking like this.”

Ryan stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t have words, listening as she stormed down the stairs and threw the front door closed. He heard her car start and he peeked out the window as that too stormed off down the street; out of view. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Ryan threw himself down onto the bed; still dressed only in his underwear and socks. How had he married someone so fucking unreasonable? She was just so… 

But then a thought came to Ryan, making his brain tingle into life. Had he actually just been given the night to himself? The whole house? Just him? All evening?

He looked down at his thicker stomach and smiled with delight at it. “Thank you!” he laughed aloud, managing to pinch a little and jiggle it in happiness. He felt a twitch in his groin, realising that with the night to himself, he could watch porn or do anything that he wanted. He could order food in. Lots of it! “Yes!”, he nodded, getting more excited and turned on now. This was his night. Free reign to be as selfish as he liked.

Ryan proceeded to indulge himself in every way possible, looking down at his bloated stomach a couple of hours later. Maybe this was it, he thought to himself. Maybe this was the way out of his miserable life with Lucy. He could seize upon her dislike of his weight gain and run with it. Why stop? He’d certainly gone beyond the point of denying himself for the sake of her ideals. There was a path in front of him, the exit sign shining brightly and a new life within his reach. He just needed to have the courage to reach for it.

“A Saturday night to yourself?” Jack laughed, surprised that Ryan had actually followed up on his promises and made it out for a drink. “You must have been a very good boy!” he teased.

Ryan hugged his friend and stood back to admire him slightly. Jack had grown wider since he’d seen him last, his hips and love handles spreading. Teh guy’s face was bigger, cheeks blooming large. And underneath his t-shirt, Ryan could see that the man’s nipples had become pointed, pressing outwards from his puffy former pecs. “I can see that you’ve been having a very good time of things!” he joked, being in the know about how Jack’s kinky sex life worked with his girlfriend.

“I could say the same about you!” Jack smirked back, poking Ryan in his tight little paunch. “Have you and Lucy been having your own kinky fun?” he teased.

“We’re not really talking at the moment, dude,” Ryan explained straight away; keen that he didn’t have to spend the entire night talking about her. “I want out. I’ve reached the end.”

Jack winced sympathetically. “I can’t say that I’m all that surprised after the way you were talking last time. But that still doesn’t explain this,” he pointed back at Ryan’s middle, smirking.

Ryan laughed, having forgottem how quickly Jack could lift his spirits with his cheeky humour. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied coyly, smiling with just as much mischief.

“Yes you do!” Jack laughed back, patting Ryan’s paunch properly now. “Did you do it on purpose? Is this to piss Lucy off?”

Again, Ryan laughed. He shruged his shoulders. “Yeah,” he nodded in surprise at Jack’s bluntness. There wasn’t anyone else in the world he could imagine himself admitting this to. “I guess I did,” he smiled, resting his hand over his thicker middle like it was his new prized pet.

“Dude, that’s so awesome!” Jack blasted; his face lighting up with all the enthusiasm Ryan remembered when the pair of them used to get up to mischief in high school. “You love it, don’t you?”

Ryan felt like he was dealing with an excitable puppy, but the interest was infectious. “Well, I can’t say I’m against it,” he replied diplomatically.

“Michelle is going to love this when I tell her,” Jack pressed on, ordering them both a couple of beers. “She said at the pool party that you would make a good fatty.”

“She did?” Ryan asked, surprised that Michelle would talk about other guys in that way.

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded. “She said you’re like me; a similar build; perfect for fattening up, apparently.”

“She really is a kinky one, your Michelle, isn’t she?” Ryan chuckled, feeling strangely aroused by the idea of her talking about him like this.

“How far are you planning on taking it?” Jack pressed him.

“The weight gain? Um, well. I’m not really thinking about anything really. I’m just having some fun,” he answered honestly.

“Dude, if you’re ever going to grow a gut in your lifetime, getting a divorce is one of them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan asked, only half listening now as he tried to work out why there was so much blood pumping into his groin.

“A divorce is like a free pass for so many things. No one will bat an eyelid if you start getting properly fat once you two separate.”

“Well, we’re not quite there yet,” Ryan backtracked, wincing slightly as the word ‘divorce’ came up so casually in their conversation. Lucy hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, and neither had he to her. 

“Just imagine it though,” Jack encouraged him. “You, sitting in your own apartment somewhere, drinking as much beer and eating as much pizza as you want after work. No Lucy complaining in the background and telling you off. No massive list of jobs to be completed at the weekend.”

“That does sound pretty sweet,” Ryan admitted; his dick now inexplicably full of blood.

“I just can’t wait to tell Michelle,” Jack said again, more delighted than ever as the pair of them settled in to watch the football game on the big screen.

The realities of splitting from his wife were somewhat different from the fantasies that Jack tried to portray, Ryan soon realised. Divorce was quickly turning into the most expensive thing he had ever done. Lucy’s parents, who had been too impoverished to hire a gardener, or a decorator, or a maintenance guy the entire time he had been married to Lucy, suddenly stumped up the cash to pay for the most cut-throat, killer lawyer for their daughter. With his head in his hands, Ryan soon realised that he was going to have to start from scratch: no home, no pensions, not even his truck for work. The only place that he could afford to live was a room in an apartment downtown, sharing with two students from the local college. Twenty nine years old and here he was, right back at the starting line.

Of the two guys he now lived with, Ryan didn’t see much of Paul, the computer science major. He was often out in the library, or hiding out in his bedroom. That worked fine. With his life turned so upside down, Ryan wasn’t exactly wanting to be dragged out to parties midweek when he had work the next morning. No, the only real pain in Ryan’s ass was Ash; the smart-mouthed literature student with a carefree attitude to life that frustrated Ryan to no end.

“You know, when you get a real job, you’re not going to be able to sit up until 3am watching a movie marathon with your waste of space boyfriend,” he complained at the guy one evening, tired from an exhausting day in work, having been constantly woken by the pair of young lovers laughing so hard at the screen.

“Fine. Whatever,” Ash huffed. “I’ve had a stressful day, okay. I don’t need this.”

“Stressful?” Ryan parroted, feeling the rage bubbling up inside him. “You want to know about stress?” he growled. “You’ve been sitting inside all day typing up an assignment on a computer screen. That’s not what real stress looks like. You’re in college - you have absolutely no idea about the real world; about trying to actually earn a living!”

Ash rolled his eyes. He’d heard it all before. 

Sure, Lucy knew how to press Ryan’s buttons, but this boy was on a whole other level. “You graduate with your masters in nine months!” he blasted. “What the hell do you expect to do then? You’ve got no idea, have you? How can you just wander so aimlessly through life?”

“What does it matter?” Ash sighed. “Things always work out in the end.”

“It matters because, trust me, your twenties will be over in a flash and you need to start getting somewhere in life. Not just watching movies until 3am! And certainly not with someone like Ben! You’re just setting yourself up for failure, and it pisses me off!”

“Like you, you mean?” Ash shot back, visibly annoyed. “You’ve done the whole marriage thing, the house, the cars. Yet, you're back here, sharing a shitty apartment with a couple of students. You did everything right, everything the grown-ups told you, and now look at you! Sometimes life is just like that. So stop taking out your frustrations on me and start focusing on yourself instead!”

Ryan didn’t respond. He stormed off to his room and threw himself onto the bed. Then he took a few breaths and considered what Ash had actually said to him. The guy had been right: he was taking his anger out on him. Ash was young, more academically bright than Ryan had ever been, good looking and full of personality. He had his whole life in front of him without any major mistakes under his belt yet. So why did Ryan feel the need to be such an asshole to him?

Despite not officially apologising, Ryan did make an effort to be nicer to Ash over the coming days. He still didn’t care for Ben, the guy's boyfriend, feeling that Ash could do much better. But he was polite and courteous, never failing to put in his earplugs when he knew they were going to be watching TV until late.

Ryan’s weight had not been a priority for him since he’d moved in. Any erotic fantasies he’d indulged himself in last year were thoroughly dampened by the divorce. Yet, his weight continued to climb, spurred on by the cheap, high carbohydrate diet he fell into whilst living in the apartment.

When he was with Lucy, Ryan had indulged himself in sugary treats and even high calorie supplements that he would now consider an eyewatering drain on his monthly budget. He was having to to work harder than ever to bring in the money and his paunch seemed to lose that fluffy softness of his early gains, solidifying into something firmer and more rounded as it continued to push itself out from under his chest.

New clothes were also a luxury that Ryan could ill-afford. His t-shirts fitted awkwardly around the swell of his stomach and there were many times in work when he felt a cool breeze on his butt crack. Beer was the only luxury he allowed himself in those early days, especially on the weekends, when Paul usually went back to visit his family and Ash was generally out partying with his boyfriend. In those few, blissful hours, he could guzzle down his beers whilst sitting in his underwear in front of the shared TV screen, appreciating exactly why he had given up his marriage. Life was hard, but it wasn’t always awful.

Through word of mouth, Ryan had started picking up more work on some of the other rental properties for students that littered this area of town. Desperate for the work, Ryan had been undercutting people quite dramatically in order to guarantee an income for himself. However, trying to get an early start on these types of properties was never as easy. Students were inherently lazy, he decided, whilst banging on the door of one apartment, trying to get someone to let him in. After a full five minutes, a groggy looking guy crawled to the door wearing only his underwear and a t-shirt that was back to front.

“Your landlord sent me to see your air con,” Ryan eventually explained.

Without a word, the exhausted guy simply opened the door further and let Ryan get by. “You’re not going to be noisy are you?” he eventually asked. “My boyfriend is still asleep.”

Ryan looked at his watch. It was almost 10.30 in the morning. Why would anyone still be asleep now?

“It’s okay. I’m getting up anyway,” yawned another guy, waddling sleepily from the bedroom and giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. It was only then that Ryan clocked him. It was Ben, Ash’s obviously cheating boyfriend; the guy’s face suddenly looking considerably more alert as he too recognised Ryan.

“You’re not going to tell Ash, are you?” Ben shouted, having followed Ryan out of the apartment the second he had finished up; safely out of earshot of his second boyfriend.

“Of course I am,” Ryan replied simply, continuing to walk away, without stopping.

“You’re just going to make him miserable,” the guy shot back. “Is that what you want?”

At this, Ryan laughed. Guilty people always seemed to have such a terrific way of turning things back around on the other person. “Trust me,” he sniggered. “He’ll be way better off without someone like you in his life.”

“Do you think it was easy for me with Ash?” Ben started next; his tone shifting to something nastier. “It’s not exactly easy trying to feel special when your boyfriend has a massive crush on the pot-bellied daddy bear he shares an apartment with. How do you think that made me feel?”

“What are you even talking about?” Ryan laughed, surprised at how far Ben was going with his bullshit. A daddy bear? He was only six years older than Ash.

“Oh, come on. You know exactly what you’re doing,” Ben snapped back, getting more viscious as he realised that Ryan wasn’t willing to compromise with him. “You’re always there, or strutting about in just your underwear, drinking your beers in the living area and being overly friendly. You’ve been trying to fuck things up for the two of us for ages.”

Now Ryan did stop, turning to face Ben properly. “What planet are you living on?” he asked, completely flabbergasted. “I just try to be pleasant. I’m not trying to do anything.”

“Prove it then,” Ben shot back, seizing upon an opportunity. “If you’re really not trying to fuck things up between us, you’ll let this one little indiscretion slide.”

If Ryan hadn’t just had the hardest year of his life, dealing with some of the most despicable, bullying lawyers out there, he may have fallen for Ben’s game. As it was, he wasn’t afraid of standing his ground. “Tell him by the time I get home later. Or I will.”

Ryan crept into the apartment later that evening, finding Paul in the kitchen. “You missed some drama today,” he sighed. “Ash and Ben broke up. I walked in on it all before. It was so awkward.”

“Is Ash okay?” Ryan asked, relieved that Ben had listened to his ultimatum and done the deed himself.

“He’s in his room,” Paul nodded over to the bedroom door. “We’d best leave him be.”

Ryan nodded in complete agreement, deciding to hide out in his room that evening so that Ash didn’t need to see anyone when he would inevitably have to come out for a glass of water, or to use the bathroom.

The evening was slipping away and Ryan had just finished a TV series that he had been charging through for the last two weeks. There was still an hour until he would need to get to sleep; enough time for one last beer, before the inevitable daily grind would start all over again. He strutted out of his bedroom and made for the refrigerator, pausing only briefly to crack the can open and chug a little of it. He burped quietly, finding that the first few mouthfuls of fresh beer always made him the most gassy. Then, suddenly, he heard the door to Ash’s room opening and he stood there, feeling completely caught out.

“Hi,” Ash whispered, not making any pretenses that he was here for any other reason than to see Ryan.

Feeling incredibly awkward, Ryan now regretted coming out of his room without a shirt on; his bloated pot belly on full display. Before today, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but Ben’s words had planted an unpleasant seed in his mind that made him question everything he did a little bit more. “I’m sorry to hear about Ben,” he stated straight away. “How are you doing?”

Ash sighed and began to pour his heart out. He knew all about Ryan’s discovery earlier that day and he thanked the guy for doing the right thing.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Ryan nodded, swigging the last of his beer and crushing the can for recycling. He shouldn’t have really had another one. His stomach felt quite painfully bloated and tight after it.

“Oh, and about those things that Ben said to you,” Ash quickly jumped in, seeing that Ryan was heading back to his room. “I hope it’s not going to make things awkward between us.”

Ryan had to think for a second about what Ash was getting at. The crush? Was Ben actually telling the truth about that? “Um, no. Not at all,” he mumbled back, rubbing his hair with a little embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, finally making his escape.

An evening out with Jack was exactly what Ryan needed a couple of weekends later, as Ryan’s divorce was at last finalised. Unlike Ryan’s months of hell, Jack’s appearance was symbolic of a life of sheer indulgence and pleasure. Unlike Ryan, his body was pure softness, with blubber beginning to creep its way into the guy’s neck and upper arms. His stomach had swollen quite considerably and his butt had a surprising width to it that Ryan had not expected.

“Listen, I didn’t want to message you about this. I kind of feel pretty bad asking you in some ways, knowing what you’re going through,” Jack started after Ryan had finished explaining how the divorce had eventually played out. “I wanted you to be my best man.”

Ryan smiled brightly. “Of course I will,” he beamed, getting up to hug his old friend warmly as he stayed sitting in his chair.

“Thanks,” Jack smiled. “It’s not going to be a huge wedding. Not everyone approves,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“How do you mean?” Ryan asked, sensing that Jack needed to offload.

“Well, Michelle’s parents aren’t coming,” he huffed. “They’d watched Michelle do this to her old boyfriend,” he explained, rubbing the quite substantial shelf of belly fat under his sagging nipples. “So when the same thing started happening to me, they told her they wanted no part in it.”

“Bonus!” Ryan joked, trying to remain upbeat. “My marriage certainly would have gone a lot smoother without the in-laws.”

Jack nodded, seeming to be somewhat in agreement. “Michelle’s not too cut up about it,” he whispered. “Then, well, you remember my dad. He still goes out running three times a week. So he’s not been all that in favour of Michelle and her wholesome home cooking..”

“You can’t live your life for your parents,” Ryan jumped in. It was a lesson he had learned somewhat bitterly when his own church-goin parents had taken Lucy’s side in the divorce. It made him think back to how much they had pushed him to get married in the first place, and he began to resent them, quite justifiably in his opinion.

“I know, I know…” Jack nodded. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. She’s it for me, y’know?”

Ryan raised his beer and they drank to that sentiment.

“What about you?” Jack asked next. “Is there someone new you’ve been holding back from me?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, not at all,” he stated. “Well… I mean…” he hesitated for a moment. “No. No one.”

But Jack’s interest had already been piqued. “Oh, come on. You can’t give me that and then say nothing!” he teased.

Ryan sighed, realising that he had dug himself into a bit of a hole. “It’s nothing,” he huffed at his own stupidity. “It’s just, one of the guys I live with has a bit of a crush on me.”

“Your first chubby chaser!” Jack laughed wickedly.

“Well…” Ryan conceded. “It looks that way, yes. His ex-boyfriend told me off for strutting around the place in just my underwear. He said I had a pot-belly and told me his boyfriend thinks of me as a hot daddy bear!”

Jack chuckled again. “Well, he’s not wrong. You do have quite the pot-belly!”

“Isn’t it a bit weird though?” Ryan asked his friend.

“Being referred to as a daddy bear when you’re only twenty nine?” Jack asked, simultaneously nodding in agreement. “But once you put on a bit of extra meat, that’s just the way people see you. It’s much more arousing to lean into it, rather than try to fight it.”

“Lean into it?” Ryan asked. “That’s your best advice?”

“Just enjoy the attention,” Jack smirked. “So what if he’s a twenty-four year old gay guy? You don’t have to be into someone to appreciate their admiration,” he nodded knowingly. “Trust me on this one. You’ll come to see that I’m right.”

With the divorce at last over with and all lawyers paid off, Ryan began to feel the financial strain starting to ease. Lucy hadn’t been quite as successful in getting all that she wanted from him. The worst case scenario was, thankfully, avoided. A few more months of living with the boys and Ryan would soon have saved enough money to rent his own place instead. With the ties that bound him to his ex-wife now finally disappearing, Ryan began to remember why he had fought so long for this freedom.

“I’ll have the Monster Meat bucket,” he declared, walking into a fast food place and not feeling guilty about the cost for the first time in months. He sucked in the smell of all the greasy goodness and knew that this was a freedom he would never again take for granted. Now he could gorge on as much as he desired and never have to explain himself to anyone. He could literally get as fat as he wanted now he was divorced and single, with no one to please but himself.

As he settled down into a seat, Ryan felt the bliss of devoting all his attention just to his epic meal for a full 20 minutes. It was all the stress relief he had ever needed. No one in here was particularly slim and it seemed, in those moments, that he had taken himself out of a world that so frustrated him, and into one that he felt comfortable in. Sure, he could probably join a gym and drop this weight in a relatively short amount of time. He could train his body hard and attract some beautiful girl to make his ex jealous. But Ryan knew that he had moved beyond that now. He didn’t care what his ex thought of him, or anyone else for that matter.

Or was Ryan just kidding himself? Was this really a moment of clarity? Or would he soon go crawling back to a diet plan the second things started getting rough? He was desperate to believe that wouldn’t be the case, but no one could ever be totally certain when it came to the future. It was only the present he could master. And so, armed with that knowledge, he went back to the counter, even though he felt almost too stuffed to even think about food.

“I’ll have the triple burger, please,” he stated, adding another milkshake to go with it. “He felt his hardess start to tingle, like the old days when he used to do this. Back then, he’d assumed it to be some twisted excitement about pissing Lucy off. Now he realised that this was so much more. This was about taking himself to somewhere he had never allowed himself to imagine going..

“Is this for you?” Ash asked, handing Ryan two boxes of pizza. “The delivery guy was coming up the stairs as I got home.”

“About time!” Ryan sighed, taking the boxes from him and settling back into the chair in front of the sofa. Two pizzas were a necessity for the Friday night baseball game and he was already four beers down. It would have been a perfect night but for the sticky humidity that had loomed over the city for the last few days; making him strip to his boxers as soon as he got home. “Do you follow baseball?” he asked Ash politely, nodding to the couch to see if he wanted to join him; knowing that, with Paul gone for the weekend, Ash would be on his own otherwise.

“No. Watching sports is not really my thing,” Ash replied unenthusiastically, despite continuing to linger around.

“Do you mind getting me another beer then?” Ryan asked,deciding to put the guy to work if he was so free to just stand about like this. 

Ash hopped to his task with remarkable speed. “Here you go,” he smiled delightedly, heading straight over and handing it over to him, not seeming to realise that he was blcoking part of the TV screen. “I’ve got some chips and dip if you want some?” he asked next.

“Sure,” Ryan nodded, hoping that the guy would at least sit down then and stop getting in the way.

Once again, Ash went to his task, presenting the chips and dip much better than Ryan ever would have. He placed them on the coffee table and then finally sat himself down on the couch. 

“You not having any?” Ryan asked five minutes later, noticing that it was only him actually eating.

“No, thanks,” Ash simply replied, pretending to be interested in the game. “They���re for you. Do you want another beer?”

Ryan felt the remaining liquid in his beer can and nodded, surprised by how diligently he was being looked after. Even when he asked Ash to fetch him the ice cream from the freezer later on, he was surprised that the young guy hopped to it, bouncing off the couch with an enthusiasm he had never seen before.

At the end of the game, Ryan took himself to the bathroom to relieve himself after the seven cans of beer he had ended up consuming. He looked in the mirror and marveled at the reflection he saw within it. Bloated and stuffed, Ryan had never seen his stomach looking so round and tight. Although he had upgraded his underwear a little while back, already these were looking worn and stretched, pulling the waistband down so that a good couple of inches of butt crack were on show. His muscular chest had started to build up with fleshiness in recent weeks and he placed his hand there to feel just how soft it was starting to get under his arms. He pulled the scales out with his foot and wondered just how much he weighed in this overfed state. He stepped on, waiting for the numbers to settle: 256lbs; the biggest number he had ever seen by quite some margin. It was, quite frankly, the cause of an almost instantaneous erection.

“I was wondering, if you’re still hungry, I could make you some pancakes?” Ash asked next as Ryan finally made it out of the bathroom. “I’ve got all the ingredients in.”

Ryan sat himself back down with a grunt and rubbed the shelf of his tight stomach, surprised that Ash was still hanging about the living area. Couldn’t he see how full Ryan was? Was he completely obvious to the heavy breathing and occasional grunt when he had to move, even slightly. He knew that the guy had a little crush, but what on earth was he possibly getting out of all this?

“Go on,” Ash pressed, actually trying to persuade him now. “Just a couple of them; nothing too big.”

Ryan looked up at the guy, already making his way to the kitchen and just waiting for that final nod of approval from him. Out of little more than curiosity, he agreed; watching with interest as he spied Ash settling to his task. Was he really using that much oil to fry the batter mix up? Was he actually rubbing butter into them? Did he really need to pour on that much syrup?

Despite tasting amazing, Ryan knew that every mouthful he was taking was completely and utterly packed full of calories and fat. As if desperate for his approval, Ash had watched him consume every bite of them. A sweat had begun to pour off Ryan’s forehead, but he wasn’t entirely sure that this one was caused by the humidity. “I am absolutely stuffed!” Ryan declared, grunting and rubbing the stretched out ball of stomach fat. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages,” he chuckled. “Not since I was trying to piss off my ex-wife after she told me she liked me being skinny.” “You were putting on weight on purpose?” Ash asked, quite startled by the comment.

“I was going for it, like you wouldn’t believe!” Ryan nodded. “Unless you’ve been through it, it’s hard to comprehend how petty you can be towards the end of a bad marriage,” he grinned, suddenly noticing that his hands were all over his own rounded stomach. “I was even taking this special calorie supplement shake you can buy, just to speed things up,” he laughed, thinking back.

“Oh!” Ash exclaimed knowledgeably, suddenly naming the exact brand .

They both went quiet. What a strange piece of trivia for Ash to just know, thought Ryan. The guy seemed to sense that too, suddenly looking a little sheepish. 

“Do you still take them?” Ash asked next, trying to look a little less interested than his excitable voice made him sound.

“I don’t need to,” Ryan grinned, tapping his fully grown pot belly. I just weighed myself twenty minutes ago. I’ve put on another 40lbs since I moved in here. It seems that I just can’t stop these days!” He yawned, standing up and stretching. “Anyway, buddy. I need to head to sleep,” he declared, seizing upon the fact that his erection from the overeating had at last subsided.

“Do you think there is a way to tell if someone is like your Michelle?” Ryan asked the next time he caught up with Jack at the very hastily organised stag party.

“How do you mean?” Jack asked, only a little worse for wear as he and Ryan gradually fell to the back of the crowd of friends taking them to the next bar.

“You know… Someone who is into the idea of helping someone else gain weight,” Ryan explained, trying to keep his voice fairly low.

Jack chuckled. “Oh, trust me, you’ll spot them!” he nodded. They’re not exactly subtle. “They’ll find ways to ensure you’re eating and they’ll probably want to watch too. If they’re anything like Michelle, they’ll probably try to keep your activity levels low and complement you at the weirdest times; like when you’re bloated from overeating.”

Ryan nodded, taking it all in and finding a striking resemblences to Ash’s more recent behaviours. “Anything else?” he asked.

Jack considered for a moment. “The compliments,” he added next. “They’re totally bizarre. If they’re praising you for overeating, that’s a pretty sure sign. But sometimes they may try to convince you that you look better, or more masculine, or whatever it is they think you want to hear. When the reality is, you just look fat.”

Again, Ryan nodded, keen to match Jack’s thoughts to his own observations of Ash. “You see, I think I might have…”

“Come on!” shouted their drunk friends up ahead. “The night is still young. Stop waddling behind and get your big butts up here!”

Jack and Ryan smirked at each other. Despite Jack’s rather considerable extra weight, Ryan had been lumbered in exactly the same category. The pair of them were, for better or worse, the fat guys on this trip.

“You’re back!” Ash smiled late the next day as an exhausted Ryan made it home. “Did you have a nice time? Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat?”

Ryan looked again at the time. “You’re still up!” he asked with surprise, knowing that Ash always had an early class on Monday mornings.

“Well, I wanted to check that you got home okay,”Ash replied, heading to the kitchen and renewing his offer to make something for his roommate.

Smirking at the fact that he was being fussed over and mothered by a good-looking twenty-four year old, Ryan had been disappointed that he hadn’t had more alone time to discuss this situation he was in, with his buddy, Jack. “Okay,” he nodded, deciding to just let Ash do his thing. “Sure, that would be nice.” He headed for a shower, returning to find an enormous, steaming hot lasagne, glistening with grease and cheese, sitting there on a plate, ready to be eaten. “Did you make this from scratch?” he asked Ash.

Ash nodded. “I remembered you saying that lasagne used to be your favourite dish growing up. I’ve never made it before, but I made a whole bunch of them and portioned them up in the refrigerator for when you get hungry.

Ryan smiled at the effort Ash had clearly gone to for him; a whole new level of care and attention. He opened his mouth to try some and nodded in approval. The lasagne really was delicious, although it was more than obvious just how much oil, cream and several different types of cheeses had gone into it to make it really quite extremely high in calories. If all the beer and fast food hadn’t ensured his pants would be tighter tomorrow, this little calorie bomb sure would.

“How was the weekend, anyway?” Ash asked, sticking around for the show and watching Ryan devour every bite.

“Pretty good,” Ryan nodded. “I had a couple of jibes from some of my old school friends about my weight. But we all turn thirty this year, so the dad-bod is definitely where most of them are at now anyway. I’m just the one who has already graduated from that stage,” he winked at Ash, tapping his gut.

“What did they say?” Ash asked with surprising interest, placing a cushion over his crotch.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan went on, deciding to play up to whatever kinky fantasies he thought his roomate may be having. “Just pointing stuff out to me: telling me how tight my clothes are, how slow I was when we were walking to different places and calling me out on how much I was eating when we went for food.”

“They’re probably just jealous,” Ash shot back straight away.

Ryan smirked. There was no way any of the guys were in the least bit jealous of his sprouting pot belly, making him all but invisible to the many hot girls they bumped into that weekend. This was clearly just another one of those bizarre compliments that Jack had told him to look out for. “Yeah, you’re right,” he lied to Ash, rubbing his bloating gut as he chugged down a few of the sodas Ash had supplied with his late night meal. “I’m sure they are jealous, deep down.”

Stepping on the scale was not something that Ryan did all that often. He could feel his stomach’s rounded shape starting to swell even larger, and he knew, from the fit of his underwear and pants, that his thighs and butt were also bearing the brunt of all that he was consuming each day. Still, as he stepped up, early one Sunday morning, after a particularly gluttonous take-out weekend of having the apartment to himself, Ryan’s eyes widened in shock: 278lbs! “Fuck!” he blasted in shock, before laughing to himself at how fast the latest few pounds had slipped on. He really weighed that much? He didn’t feel that heavy! He strolled over to the mirror inspecting his shape. Sure, his gut was pretty well developed by now and all the extra eating had sure softened his chest up rather a lot. He spun, noting that his butt’s width was quite considerable now, with back fat bulding at his sides and folding under his shoulder blades. Yet, he still didn’t feel like he should weigh 278lbs! Somehow, he had always imagined a guy that size being much bigger than this. What Ryan actually felt as he saw himself there, was very small still; acting as a licence for him to continue to indulge.

Jack’s wedding was fast approaching as the weeks rolled by. After being fitted for their suits, Ryan and Jack headed out for something to eat.

“That tailor seemed pretty pissed off that we left it this late to get ourselves measured for the wedding outfits,” Ryan noted as they sat down and grabbed the menus. “I guess we’ll have to cross our fingers that they can get those pants in for you in time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack shrugged. “I put on weight every week, so there would have been no point in going any earlier. I would just have outgrown them. “I’m almost 350lbs these days.”

Ryan nodded. Jack did indeed look impressively large, yet he was only 60lbs or so bigger than he was. And Ryan still felt tiny in comparison. “I know what you mean,” Ryan agreed. “I split some pants the other day. I’d only bought them four weeks before.”

“It’s weird, isnt it. When you’re gaining weight, you’re so tuned into how your body feels and looks. Yet, at the same time, you’re completely oblivious to it as well; how tight your clothes are getting, or how large you seem to other people.”

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. He felt so glad that Jack noticed this as well, sparking a lively conversation between the pair.

“You’ll be getting your own place soon, I take it?” Jack asked. “The two students you're sharing with must be graduating soon?”

“A couple of months,” Ryan nodded, suddenly realising that he had been a little lazy in his hunt for a new apartment. 

“That’ll be nice!” Jack smiled. “Your own space at last!”

“Well, it’s not too bad as it is,” Ryan explained. “Paul is never there at weekends. And now he’s got himself a girlfriend, he’s not there much in the week either.”

“And what about the other one? The one you used to fight with loads?”

“Yeah, he’s there a lot, but… we don’t argue so much these days,” he admitted; suddenly feeling the desire to say so much more about kinky little Ash.

“Before I foget,” Jack jumped in. “Michelle wants to know who you’re bringing as your ‘plus one’ to the wedding next week.

“I’ve got a ‘plus one’?” Ryan asked, genuinely surprised.

“Dude!” Jack grumbled. “Seriously?”

“I’ll find someone,” Ryan replied hastily, seeing how stressed Jack was getting.

“What about that girl you were hinting at when we briefly chatted during my stag party?” Jack asked, clearly keen to get a name locked in.

Ryan thought for a moment. Had Jack assumed he had some potential hot chubby chaser girl on the go? He pondered the idea, realising, quite suddenly, that he didn’t really need one. In the most unexpected way, everything that he had yearned for in life had already arrived. “Hey, Jack,” he asked thoughtfully. “How did you know that Michelle was the one for you?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Jack shot back with a sly grin.

“Besides that,” Ryan insisted. “How did you know that you guys were meant to be together?”

Jack sighed. “I guess…” he began softly, “...it was the way she made me feel: so loved and cared for; admired and adored. I’ve never felt that from anyone before.” He seemed moved, just by talking about her. “Plus she dominated me and forced me to pack on over 150lbs of pure fat; which is one of the kinkiest fucking things I could ever have imagined!” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ryan laughed and nodded. He made a crack about how much fatter Jack might be after he got home from his honeymoon, but, really, his mind was elsewhere; with someone else entirely.

Ryan arrived home to see a large crate of beers resting on the kitchen counter tied up with a ginormous red bow. He laughed, seeing that it was his favourite brand and noticing that a large tray of assorted doughnuts lay beside it.

“Do you like your present?” Ash asked, coming out of his bedroom with a huge smile on his face.

“You bought these for me?” Ryan asked, feeling his mouth watering at the sight of the doughnuts, even after how much he had eaten with Jack that afternoon.

As if psychically linked, Ash began unpackaging the doughnuts for him, leaving them open for him to stuff one into his mouth. “They’re to say thank you. I just had my novel manuscript accepted for publishing.”

Ryan nearly spat out his doughnut. “You’ve been writing a novel?” he blasted in shock. “Since when?”

“Since you kept reminding me that I need to do something with my life; back when you first moved in.”

“I was being an asshole,” Ryan confessed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“You gave me the kick up the ass that I needed,” Ash threw back with a smile. “You always told me how clever I was and that I could do anything.”

“You’re an amazing person,” Ryan marvelled. “In fact, you’re the best person I’ve ever met in my life!” For weeks now, he had worried that his behavious around Ash, indulging his little feeder tendencies in subtle ways, had only brought the guy to fetishize him. Their relationship was merely one of a simple exchange: Ryan would enjoy being overfed and catered for by his roommate, and Ash would get to enjoy the subtle art of ensuring a guy that he found attractive, continued to pile on a few pounds. Now, however, every sense felt strangetly heightened in this moment of celebration. He couldn’t believe that Ash had been secretly writing away for months when Ryan had assumed the guy to be inside his bedroom, playing games. Just how blind had he been this entire time?

Ryan took a step forward and Ash did not retreat. He grabbed the much smaller guy’s shoulders and held them firmly. Again, Ash did not stop him. Then, seeing the inviting, warm look on Ash’s face, Ryan took the biggest risk of his life, going in for a kiss and desperately hoping that Ash’s lips would move to meet his.

Unbelievably, Ash was kissing him back, moaning gently, as if luxuriating in something he had never wanted more in his life. The kiss became intense, very quickly. With his shirt lifted off him, Ryan felt the handsome guy’s hands rubbing all over his stomach. Before he knew it, Ryan was being guided into the living space, his sweatpants ripped down and then his body pushed with surprisingly kinky force, back into his usual chair in front of the TV. 

Ryan looked up at Ash with startled arousal. The guy seemed so naturally suited to taking charge. He would have known that this was Ryan’s first gay experience and he led the way with ease, erasing any opportunity for awkward fumblings to slip in. He cracked open one of the chilled beers and fetched the tray of doughnuts from the kitchen counter. Then, when he was sure that Ryan was settled, he plunged his whole mouth down onto the fat guy’s crotch.

Ryan’s whole body twitched.This wasn’t a blow job, he thought to himself, feeling the intense stimulation straight away. He found himself moaning, even when he was trying not to. Was this intense pleasure what it was supposed to have been like all along? Lucy had never made much of an effort with anything in the bedroom, but Ash’s mouth was doing things to him that Ryan could never have dreamed of. He supped on his beer and ate a doughnut, feeling Ash’s hands rubbing the spherical shape of his stomach, clearly getting off on making this moment all about him.

Barely two doughnuts in and Ryan felt his body lurching as it wanted to climax. Ash worked his pace even more, feeling the throbbing in his mouth. Then, when the moment came, he pushed his mouth even deeper, sending Ryan’s hardness all the way down his throat. The pleasure; the orgasm; that intensity. It was unlike anything Ryan had ever experienced in his life. 

There was no going back.

Over the following week, Ryan discovered that Ash had a whole arsenal of tactics to please him. Not only did the guy continue to fuss over him with his cooking and snack deliveries, but his tight, energetic little butt seemed determined to outdo every single previous sexual experience that Ryan had ever had. They spoke at length about their attraction to each other and how smitten they both had become. Ryan had no hesitation in inviting Ash to be his date for Jack’s wedding. And, in fact, spending so much time with a now professional writer, really helped Ryan to produce the best speech he could have wished for. Rather than feeling sick with nerves as the big day arrived, he felt excited and pumped, heartily stuffing himself on the big breakfast Ash had so lovingly prepared for him.

“Your friends really aren’t keen on Michelle, are they?” Ash commented later that evening, as the pair of them were reunited after Ryan’s time sitting at the top table and the endless photographs that needed taking.

“Um, no,” Ryan nodded. “Not so much.”

“I had no idea that your friend, Jack, used to be so slim before he met her,” he whispered, fearing that one of their families might overhear. “Your buddies seem to think she’s the devil incarnate!”

Ryan chuckled. He’d heard it all before. “She’s lovely really,” he tried, looking over at the pair of them as Michelle spoonfed her 350lb husband a large piece of their wedding cake. “She just… knows what she wants.”

“I think everyone here can see exactly what it is she wants,” Ash joked back as Jack’s full, swollen belly was patted with approval by his new wife. “It makes me wonder what your friends are going to say about me eventually.”

Ryan pulled Ash into him by holding his slim hips in his chubby hands. They had decided that it was best to go easy on the public displays of affection, considering that this was their first time out together as a couple. However, Ryan simply could not help himself.  “Oh, yes?” he asked keenly.

“I certainly don’t have any plans to put you on a diet,” Ash grinned, fingering the skin between the stretched buttons of Ryan’s beer swollen gut.

Ryan growled in lustful approval. His hands slipped onto Ash’stight, toned butt and pulled the guy in even closer.

“In fact, how come you’re not eating a big slice of wedding cake for me right now?” Ash teased.

Ryan moaned lightly. This was exactly what he wanted. He knew how much scrutiny he was under today. He could feel the judgemental eyes upon him, for his shocking weight gain, the fit of his tight shirt, and the fact that he was dating someone none of them had ever expected. He should have been nervous or self conscious. However, with Ash in his arms, Ryan had never felt more free to be himself. “But won’t that make me even fatter?” he teased back.

Ash smiled. “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that,” he joked, accepting the kiss that Ryan soon bestowed upon him.

Ryan felt Ash’s hands feeling his big, broad butt as they kissed; the pants he had been measured for only a week ago, starting to feel rather uncomfortable after only a week of dating the handsome twenty-four year old. The kiss ended and both of them laughed, realising how ridiculously long it had taken to get to this point. 

“Is this along the lines of what you had in mind for me?” Ryan asked moments later, pushing out his stomach as far as it would go and stretching those buttons even more.

Ash seemed thrilled, looking around the room in surprise that Ryan was making himself look so large in front of everyone that he knew at the wedding. He smiled, rubbing the underside of Ryan’s ball-like gut and then leaned in to whisper. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased.

Ryan growled in lustful appreciation, then took his boyfriend’s hand and led the way to the wedding cake.

Exactly one year to the day, Ryan and Ash were sitting in that same room, together with Jack and Michelle, celebrating a year since the wedding. They reminisced fondly, thinking about the perfect day it had been and laughing about how shocked everyone had been after Jack came back 30lbs heavier from his two week honeymoon. 

“You can’t be far off the weight I was this time last year,” Jack noted, surveying his buddy’s hefty appearance.

“Possibly,” Ryan nodded, rubbing his large stomach. “I still  don’t feel big yet though,” he replied, as if he was oblivious to the enormous ball-shaped gut and the groaning of the chair, supporting his wide butt and mostrous 347lb body.

“Unless I ask him to do something,” Ash jumped in comically. “Then he always says he’s too fat to do anything!” he joked, making everyone chuckle.

“I’m actually going to be pushing Jack to five hundred pounds this year,” Michelle explained, taking her morbidly obese husband’s hand as if this was an announcement that thay had been planning for some time.

Ryan noticed Jack staring at his face for a reaction; perhaps some surprise that his old school buddy was so ensnared by his beautiful wife that he was willing to take his weight gain to such extremes for her.

“He’s going to be a lot of work for you at that size!” Ash grinned conspiratorily at Michelle. “I hope you’re ready for that?” he laughed.

“Oh, I’m counting on it!” Michelle smirked, rubbing the 430lb man’s knee under the table.

“You’re a very lucky guy,” Ryan nodded at his friend in approval.

“There you go, Ash,” Michelle smirked. “It sounds like we may have another willing volunteer to join the five hundred pound club,” she nodded towards a jealous looking Ryan.

“You’re joking aren’t you?” Ryan laughed. “Ash is heading off on his second book tour in March. “I won’t be gaining anything for almost two months whilst he’s gone. I’ll probably just wate away!”

“You liar!” Ash teased him back. “Last time I was away, you pretty much lived on takeout and put on almost twenty pounds in a month,” he chuckled.

“I don’t remember you complaining,” Ryan smiled back; his voice dripping with affection and lust.

Michelle looked at them both, clearly wanting to cut through their mushy meanderings. “So, five hundred pounds?” she asked again, trying to circle the conversation back. “I’m getting the impression that you boys are kinky enough to enjoy seeing that on Ryan,” she pressed; ever the bad influence.

Ryan and Ash looked at each other with a wicked excitement in their eyes.

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Ash stated diplomatically. Unlike Michelle, he liked to be a little more discreet about his kinks and fantasies when it came to enjoying Ryan’s large body.

Ryan smirked and winked at his old buddy Jack. He knew exactly how to read between the lines of whatever Ash said. There was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to get Ryan to that size. And so, just like his high school best pal, Ryan was as good as setting sail for five hundred pounds. How insanely arousing was that?

“Eat up, my friend,” Ryan smiled competitively at Jack. “I’m coming for you, Fat Boy!” 

[patrollingboston]

141 Beach Episode // Cod x Reader

You know how in every good show there's a beach episode? Yeah this is theirs.

The 5 of you were sat in a truck with the aircon blasting. Price was dramatically fanning himself with his boonie hat. With one hand placed on the steering wheel. You had just finished a week-long mission and it left you all somewhere on the east coast with the sun beating down with no mercy. You were so uncomfortable, dressed head to toe in full gear practically sweltering in it.

“Not used to this bloody heat.”

  Soap sighed placing a hand to his forehead to relieve his brow of sweat.

“I’ve got the aircon.”

 Gaz smirked, of course he was fine he was sat in the front seat with cold air blasting directly onto him. You were squished between Ghost and Soap, plus he always wore a sunhat and sunglasses even in the rain.

“How ghost isn’t a puddle yet I have no clue.”

You stated, glancing over at ghost who was dressed in all black with his mask still pinned down onto his face yet he didn’t show a single sign of discomfort.

“Can you even breathe? Isn’t it like being trapped under a blanket?”

“I can breathe fine.”

He grunted not sounding amused by your questions.

“Look at tha’ ain’t it a pretty view.”

Soap said tapping on the truck window, everyone’s eyes glanced to meet where he was pointing. You were greeted with the sight of a gorgeous white sandy beach with the clearest sea water you had ever seen with families playing in the sand and surfers utilizing the waves.

“The things I would give to dive in those waves.”

 You said groaning, resting your head back in the seat knowing you had a hot and uncomfortable 6+ flight ahead of you to get back to base in England not to mention the drive to even get to the airport.

“Can’t we stop for a bit? The missions all done and dusted, surely, they don’t need us back that hastily.”

Gaz asked turning to face the captain with a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

“I could use a pint. I’m sweating like a fucking pig. We only have a few hours but I think we could all use a break.”

“Make that two.”

 Ghost’s gruff voice chimed in his mood perking up at the promise of a cold beer.

“I think everyone here wants a bloody pint.”

A few moments later the 5 of you were all stood on the beach boardwalk, you removed your boots and placed them by the railing before stepping onto the soft, warm sand.

“I have never ever stepped on sand so soft oh my-“

You wondered how long it had been before you stood barefoot on a beach. Probably not since you were a child on a day trip with your family.

“Shit the sands a bit hot ain’t it?”

Soap said as she stepped onto the sand beside you, shifting from foot to foot as he complained about the temperature once again.

“I’ll go grab us some drinks, find a spot I’ll come find you all.”

 Price said before stepping up the stairs and walking towards the crowded beach bar on the boardwalk.

Ghost, who was still dressed fully in his gear stomped behind you scouting the beach for a place to sit like it was the toughest decision he ever had to make.

“Here.”

He said pointing to a peaceful square of the beach, not too far from the shore.

You all placed your backpacks down and set a towel down for yourself. Ghost was wrestling with the beach umbrella to get it stood up.

“Whose going for a swim?”

Soap said with a huge smile on his face as he stripped off his t shirt leaving him in his cargo shorts.

“You go first mate, tell us how cold it is eh?”

Gaz joked, pushing soap slightly closer the seafront.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

“I’ll go!”

 You said, removing your jacket and vest leaving you in a tank top and some old cargo shorts dumping by your backpack them away from the shore so the waves didn’t steal them.

You jogged down to the water front stood beside Soap and Gaz.

“Whose going to make the first move then?”

You all stood in a line, hands on hips inspecting the water as it broke in front of you. As you spoke Soap dived headfirst into a wave like a goofy dolphin. He stuck his head up like an seal, running his hands through his mohawk and wiping the salty water off his face.

“Is it cold?”

 You shouted through the crashing waves.

“Nah, its refreshing.”

He shouted back before running through the water back onto the shore to stand beside the two of you.

“I don’t know if I’m that hot anymore you know-“

You said backing off after feeling the  ‘refreshing’ water splash over your feet and ankles sending little shockwaves through you.

With that statement Soap placed two hands on your waist and lifted you up into the air before placing you over his shoulder like a fireman would carrying someone out a burning building.

“DON’T YOU DARE SOAP, I MEAN IT.”

You screamed thumping his back in fear as he stepped into the freezing ocean once again. Gaz stood on the shore filming the entire situation laughing at your misfortune. Ghost sat watching from afar under a big shady umbrella pint in hand with Price sat beside him reading something, smoking one of his cigars as per usual.

“Ready?”

Soap teased as he began to hoist you up even further before throwing you into the sea with a huge splash. The cold water shocked you at first but after a few seconds, soap was right. It was kind of refreshing. You popped your head up out the water with a frown.

“I hate you asshole.”

“You weren’t going to get in I had no choice-“

You pushed a big wave of water his way aiming for his face secretly hoping the salt would burn his eyes.

“GAZ GET IN.”

Gaz stepped into the water with haste joining you and soap.

“We going play mermaids or what?”

You asked with a chuckle as the 3 of you treaded water in a circle.

“I would prefer to drown Soap.”

Gaz said before dunking soaps head back under the water.

About an hour later you sat on the beach wrapped in your towel, drying off in the sun.

“Been a while since I’ve been able to relax on a beach.”

Price spoke, he was leant back on a sun lounger his hat placed over his face shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

“Thought you were asleep old man.”

Ghost chuckled.

“Can we take a photo?”

You asked bringing out your super old digital camera you dragged around on every single mission.

The 5 of you gathered in closer. Gaz throwing up a peace sign. Soaps arm slung around ghost and a beer held loosely in the other. Captain Price sat up placing his hands on your shoulders. Your smiles were all wide (you would like to believe ghost’s was too) as the light of the setting sun glowed on your faces.

That day was a good day.

[lavenderspence]

Spending time with you | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, reader can’t swim

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Training and swimming, he didn't really care about. Just as long as he was spending time with you.

Request: Hiii! I have a request that can be fun/funny and a cute read for a summer day hehe what about Hotch teaching reader how to swim? she’s been embarrassed to let him know she doesn’t know how to but since he’s getting ready for his triathlon (maybe another one, not the same as season 7 so a slightly older Hotch if you want🤭) and she’s joined him for runs and biking, the only thing left is the swimming! 🩷

A/N: this is the shortest thing i’ve written so far, but this mild writer's block has been kicking my ass. and so has my hyper-fixation on writing all my requests, babes is struggling. but yeah, this one is a cutie, so enjoy!

Ps: girly also doesn't know how to swim so - my husband's gonna take care of me, don't worry

Requests are CLOSED! | mastelist

You kicked your legs, letting the cold water splash around. You gripped into the edge of the pool tightly, as you looked on over, trying to see the bottom and failing. It wasn’t possible - at three meters deep, just looking at the darkness down there made your stomach rage with nerves. 

You swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned around to see him fastening a fitness watch on his wrist. 

The navy blue swim trunks he was wearing were highlighting his body well. He looked almost the same as the last time he’d done the triathlon - 4 years ago. But there were just a few small differences too. The smile lines adorning both his eyes and lips were now even more prominent. The small, but barely noticeable tummy he had was highlighted deliciously when he was wearing a dress shirt. And of course, the salt and pepper hair he’d decided not to dye this last time.

He looked good, he looked hot, but even his body, the whole package you’d forever be in love with, couldn’t distract you from the worry you felt, the mild fear. 

When he’d asked you to help him train for the annual FBI triathlon, you couldn’t tell him no. You loved spending the extra time with him - you loved seeing him active and you loved the goofy smile he got after a good run or some biking. 

Funny enough, you liked it too - the adrenaline, smiling in his direction, finishing up on a walk with your hands intertwined, a bit out of breath. The naps that followed after that were cuddling close to him, spooning him, and having him spoon you. 

After finishing up with the running and biking, the only thing left was swimming, which was why you found yourself holding onto the edge for dear life, your heart beating like crazy. Because, see, when you’d agreed to help your husband train for the triathlon, you’d forgotten to mention one very important detail - you’d never learned how to swim.

Three weeks of training and you hadn’t gathered the courage to tell him - so here you were, worried, overtaken by fear, watching as he jumped into the pool head first. 

Seconds later, he swam to the surface and took a deep breath. His hands pushed at the wet strands back, and he started swimming in your direction. 

He settled between your legs with a smile. His hands ran across your outer thighs, massaging the skin and getting them all wet. 

You reached for him, pushing a strand of hair off his forehead, before your palm settled on his cheek and you ran your thumb across his stubble. You loved the barely there facial hair he’d let grow in the last few days. 

“You ready?” He asked, turning his head to lay a small kiss on your wrist. You looked deep into his eyes, as you chewed at the inside of your lip. He must have seen, because he reached up and ran his thumb across your lips, pulling it out a bit to stop you from assaulting the tender flesh anymore.

Your heart pounded and you felt your palms warm up. 

“Actually, I need to tell you something first.” You whispered, as the feeling of mortification and embarrassment suddenly overtook you. So many years of your childhood, and your life were wasted, unable to learn something so basic. 

You watched as his brows furrowed in worry, his eyes shining bright in wonder, “What is it, honey?”

You bit at your lip again, only to have him pull at it again with a shake of his head. You pulled both your hands into your lap, and looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“Idon’tknowhowtoswim.” You rushed to say quietly

“I don’t think I caught that, honey.” He pushed your chin up and searched your eyes for an answer.

You exhaled, “I don’t know how to swim, Aaron. I never learned.” You finally admit, eyes squeezing shut. 

It was quiet for a second. 

“Open your eyes, honey.” You did as he said, and watched as his finger ran across your rings, his own sparkling in the lightning, “Doesn’t matter that you can’t swim. I can teach you if you want, or you can just sit right here and enjoy the view.” His lips pulled in a small smirk before he kissed your sternum. 

“I don’t care if you train with me or not. I asked so I could spend more time with you. Either way, we’re together.” 

“You’re a good husband, Aaron.” You said as you leaned down to steal a kiss. He pulled you in as much as he could given the awkward position, and gave you a few quick pecks. 

“And you’re an even better wife, honey.” He whispered. 

In the end, you let him pull you into the water, holding onto him tightly as you floated around and he showed you the easiest way to swim. He held you, helped you, and hyped you up when you succeeded. He really was the best husband ever.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[cloudwhisper23]

I'm too lazy to format, so if you want proper formatting on this, I've posted it on Ao3! This is a continuation from the last art trade I did with @pixlokita about their Werebunny Jeremy AU (we've decided to call it Cut Right Through Me)

Below the cut is the link to the story on Ao3, and the full part that I just completed! Fair warning, this is a pretty decent length, roughly 9k words. Enjoy!

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

“I don’t care. He’s dangerous, Jeremy.”

“Dangerous, yet you apparently have been calling him,” Jeremy muttered, slouching in the chair.

“To find you! Speaking of, where were you this week?”

“Around.”

“Not home.” Ramona shot him a glare as she backed out of the driveway. “Which by the way, I went to your house. It’s an absolute mess. And you know how to get bloodstains out of things-“

“I was going to get to it.” Don’t mention Percy, please don’t remind me. Jeremy wished he was back in Michael’s house, still being interrogated for being there. It was much better than the absolute grilling he was getting from his sister.

“You’re lucky I helped clean up,” Ramona sniffed. “And you owe me for Percy’s vet bills, by the way. I know you’re a disaster on a regular basis, but whatever crisis you had will not get you out of your responsibilities mister.”

“Vet bills?” Jeremy echoed, flinching slightly when she mentioned Percy.

“Yeah, I had to take Percy to the vet. Some animal must’ve broken into your house after you ran off or something because he was hiding in your room scared out of his wits and covered in dried blood. He’ll be fine, but honestly. What could’ve been so important that you ran off and left Percy to fend for himself?”

“I didn’t know Percy survived,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Well, you should’ve checked,” Ramona replied grimly. “He’s only still alive because I went to find you.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy pulled his shirt up over his head to bury the way his eyes were swimming. Everything was just too much for him right now. “Can you just- Can we go back to your house? I don’t think I can go home right now.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Ramona answered gently. “I’m sorry to yell at you, Jer. I really am. I was just worried.”

“I know…” Jeremy rubbed his face into the soft fabric of the shirt. He wished he could’ve had a chance to apologize or make some kind of effort to befriend Michael before they’d abruptly left. “If it helps, I hardly remember anything from the last few days.”

“I noticed.” Ramona’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Hey, maybe we could go visit Becky for a bit. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I’m guessing you haven’t seen her lately either.”

“I can’t,” Jeremy said softly. He didn’t know when he’d transform again, and he couldn’t bear to have it happen around his family, not when he knew that Becky would dig straight for the cause of it, probably making him have to go through it longer than he wanted anyway. He wanted to have something for his friend to work with when he shared the problem.

Or maybe he wanted to handle something himself for once.

“Jer, are you sure? Not to push you or anything, but I’m probably going to head there at the end of the week. I was already planning the trip before you vanished, and now that you’re back-“

“I wouldn’t want to stop you from going,” Jeremy interrupted firmly. “I need to finish up some loose ends around here before I’d go. But if you could take Percy with you, I’d appreciate it.”

Maybe it would be best to just disappear. To be hunted and killed like the monster he was while Ramona was out of town. While she was safe.

“If you’re sure,” Ramona said, sounding hesitant still. “I’ll take Percy with me. I’m sure Becky misses him as much as he probably misses her.”

“Well, he is the son of her old dog. I’d be surprised if she didn’t miss him,” Jeremy answered, finally peeking out of his shirt.

“You’re such a big baby sometimes, Jeremy,” Ramona said softly, shaking his shoulder. “We’ll get you sorted out. Maybe find you a man to help you relieve your stress. You certainly need that-“

“Stop, stop. We’re not having this conversation-“

“If you just tried to have a relationship-“

“I thought you were all about not having a man to rely on for everything,” Jeremy countered.

“Well, I have different biases.”

“You only agreed because Becky said it first,” Jeremy accused, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, no assaulting the driver. Besides, I never said you have to rely on him for everything. Just… some things.”

“I’m less shallow than you,” Jeremy replied, huffing as he returned his gaze to the window.

“Oh, I doubt that. I saw the way you were eying up Michael. You wanted him,” Ramona teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m allowed to think a guy is hot, Mona! And he’s-“

“Just your type. Except I don’t think his personality is right for you. He’s too bitter, too grouchy. Not good enough for my little ball of sunshine.”

“I have four inches on you,” Jeremy argued.

“Not where it counts,” Ramona hummed in reply. “But seriously. I’m going to emphasize this, so pay attention. Don’t you dare go pining after Michael Afton.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you already burned that bridge too badly to rebuild.”

“Good. But if there’s still a silver of doubt in your mind, I’m going to update you on everything once we get home. That man has a bloody history.”

“So you’re calling him some kind of monster?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on, he called you right away when he found me, didn’t he?”

“How do we know it was right away? Maybe he drugs people for kicks and-“

“Just because I don’t remember the last few days does not mean I don’t remember last night. And nothing happened! We didn’t have sex, I promise you.”

“Mhm,” Ramona sounded unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m never going to get you to believe me on any of this stuff, am I?” Jeremy groaned hiding his face as it burned. He shouldn’t be thinking of Michael in that context, especially now. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy went to take a nap when he got to his sister’s apartment, crashing immediately on the couch. He needed to fix his sleep for work later that night anyway.

Ramona dragged him away from his nap to give him a bunch of information about the background of Fazbear Entertainment, and the whole reason she was suspicious of Michael. Clearly, she wasn’t done with their earlier conversation. She really doesn’t believe that I’ll leave it alone, Jeremy thought to himself as she dropped a bunch of newspaper clippings into his lap.

“He killed his little brother, Jeremy.”

“Allegedly.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed the newspaper.

“And his father killed a bunch of kids back in 1985. At the same location you’ve been working at.”

“They never proved that,” Jeremy argued. He shoved the paper away, avoiding looking at the image of Evan Afton. The kid gave him an uneasy feeling.

“You can’t deny the evidence. Just because they weren’t convicted of murder doesn’t mean they didn’t kill anyone.”

That’s exactly what that’s supposed to mean, actually. Jeremy’s mouth thinned. He gave the newspapers back to his sister. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

“Jeremy-“

“Can I please just take a nap in peace?” Jeremy begged. “I don’t need this extra stuff.”

Jeremy was glad to be able to get away again later that day. He knew his sleep was skewed, and he’d probably be exhausted for work, but he didn’t care. That was one thing he could rely on to be consistent. They’d be fine so long as he clocked in on time and clocked out. And if the animatronics caught him off guard, so be it.

He’d missed enough shifts already, and even without his uniform, he’d be fine going into work. Who was going to see him anyway?

He clocked in early, fiddling with his flashlight as he started his patrol. It was considered dumb to do things like this, he knew, but he hadn’t had any issues with walking around during his shift yet. And even if he did, he doubted the animatronics could do much to him anyway, now that he remembered the incident with Toy Bonnie.

The only real question was whether or not that golden bear would come back to kick him out again, but since Jeremy had never seen the bear before that time, he guessed it was a very rare occurrence thing that only happened if an animatronic was hurt or damaged. Then why wouldn’t it be protecting Mangle?

Shaking the weird thought out of his head, Jeremy stepped into Parts and Service, hoping he’d see the glint of his keys somewhere on the floor. Fritz usually forgot to lock up, and Jeremy had taken up the habit of locking up behind him. Since he’d lost his keys the last time he’d been in for a shift, he figured they’d be around somewhere.

He found himself out of luck. Sighing, Jeremy checked that all the old animatronics were still on the floor. Bonnie was still around, and with a twinge of guilt, Jeremy spotted Toy Bonnie’s mangled remains tucked between Bonnie’s torso and his arm. Best not to think too hard about that, Jeremy told himself, turning the beam to the rest of the room.

The faintest rustling noise had Jeremy immediately back on his guard. He turned to see a locker door falling open, revealing a golden suit. His grip on his flashlight tightened as he stared at the golden rabbit costume. It didn’t seem to move much more.

Maybe it was something they used during the day shifts? They were short a Bonnie after all. Still, a golden variation seemed odd as it was on the complete opposite end of the color spectrum from the other two Bonnie models Jeremy had seen.

He was almost tempted to look closer it at, but he knew better than to mess with the animatronics. Especially after his run-in with Toy Bonnie. He did not want to stir up the crazy bear thing again, no thank you.

Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back toward the door. Then he hesitated. The red light on the security camera was blinking at him. Who was in the security office?

Deciding to forget the rest of his early patrol for now, Jeremy made his way back to the office to see a very grumpy Michael shining a flashlight down the hall at him, a small boy also looking at him from a perch on top of the desk.

“Uh… hi?” That’s not Scott, Jeremy’s mind supplied. The realization hit him a moment later as he recognized the boy from Ramona’s newspaper clippings. Evan Afton.

His eyes seemed almost hypnotizing as he glared at Jeremy. “Huh. So you did survive then. Fancy that.”

“I… thanks?” Jeremy finished making his way into the office, weary of the kid on the desk. “Do I know you?”

Evan snorted. “Don’t be stupid. No.”

“Oh. Okay?”

Michael made an impatient noise. “Jeremy, don’t just stand in the doorway like a lost animatronic. Sit down if you’re going to bother me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jeremy hurriedly went to sit down in the rusty folding chair next to Michael. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. That chair has just been here every shift I’ve worked,” Michael answered, checking through the cameras. “I can’t believe you’re insane enough to do that though.”

“Do what?”

“Go into Parts and Service. Cassidy doesn’t like it when people come in there,” Evan supplied. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there at night.”

“It’s part of my patrol,” Jeremy said defensively.

“You’re insane for doing a patrol in the first place!” Michael exclaimed. “I thought you’d broken in or something, and I was going to handle it, but Evan said that’s Cassidy’s job. Which, you had to be testing her patience with how long you stuck around in there.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“You should be.” Evan assessed him as Michael went back to focusing on the cameras. “I thought the rabbit thing killed you, you know.”

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable as the ghost boy studied him. He made Jeremy exceedingly uneasy, and he couldn’t describe why.

A helpful thought decided to interject for a moment, thankfully making him feel a little bit safer. Michael couldn’t have killed his brother. Otherwise, why would they be working together like this?

“Yeah.” Evan tossed a crumpled hat into Jeremy’s lap. “This is yours, right?”

Startled, Jeremy scrambled to catch it, seeing the black stains spotting the rim and front of his hat. Because it was his hat, the one he’d been wearing the last time he transformed. Battered and covered in black oil and whatever that other fluid was, his hat was mostly still intact.

“Where did you get this?” Jeremy asked, smoothing it out to shove it back over his head.

Amused, Evan let out another scoff. “Do you even have a brain? I lost half mine, and I can still connect the dots.”

“His sister is much quicker than he is, that’s for sure,” Michael replied before Jeremy could sputter out a reply.

“You guys are mean.” Jeremy crossed his arms with a pout.

“If you’re going to be here, you can check the hallway and the left vent.” Michael tapped his flashlight, ignoring his words.

“Right, yeah okay.” Jeremy shone the beam of his flashlight down the hallway. “So, what? You’ve just been in the pizzeria the entire time?”

“Yeeep,” Evan answered, leaning across the desk to change the camera and wind the music box. “Most don’t usually live to see the sunrise after they’ve seen me though.”

“Lucky them,” Michael muttered, pulling the camera monitor out of his brother’s reach. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a big grouch,” Evan retorted. He peered into the left vent. “Eugh, that stupid balloon kid is here. Scram!” His shout made whatever was in the vent squeal and scramble away.

Jeremy blinked. “So the animatronics are just scared of you?”

“Not all of them.” Evan answered with a meaningful look at the camera. “Just the insignificant ones.”

“Which translates to, all of them except the Puppet,” Michael added.

“I don’t scare Cassidy.”

“Cassidy’s not an animatronic, Evan.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Evan sighed. “She hates me.”

“I still doubt that.” Michael clicked to the Parts and Service camera, frowning. “You didn’t touch anything while you were back there, did you?”

“Not a thing. I was hoping to find my keys, but-“ Jeremy yelped as Evan tossed a set of keys at him. His flashlight crashed to the ground as he scrambled to catch them before they hit him. “Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” Evan peered at the camera his brother was looking at. “You’re sure you didn’t touch anything?”

“I didn’t!” Jeremy protested, even as both brothers looked at him suspiciously. “I was tempted to touch the yellow rabbit guy when he fell out of that locker, but I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yellow rabbit?” Evan’s eyebrows scrunched. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael seemed worried too, his own mouth tightening into a thin line.

“What’s the deal with the… yellow rabbit?” Jeremy ventured to ask.

“Don’t worry about it I’m guessing you must not have seen him the night he was in here. Were you attacked by Toy Bonnie or something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy chuckled nervously, his spine prickling as he realized that they were probably talking about him. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any yellow rabbits before today.”

“Weird. Evan said he and Cassidy scared it off the last time.” Michael frowned deeper. “It crammed itself into a locker?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But it was in a locker. I thought it was an animatronic though.”

“It is,” Michael supplied stiffly. “But it’s harmless. It shouldn’t be able to move at all.

“…” Jeremy opened his mouth to ask another question, but he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Evan’s got it handled,” Michael replied sharply. “Just keep checking the vents.”

“Right, got it.” Jeremy retrieved his flashlight. “You seem to have a bad experience with it.”

“I guess you could say that,” Michael answered shortly. “And you really never saw it when Toy Bonnie attacked you?”

“Uh, nope. I remember working on my shift and then waking up naked in your house. That’s… about it…” Jeremy lied awkwardly.

“Hmm…” Michael didn’t seem too sure about that, but he let it go. “So you didn’t see the giant golden bunny in my house either?”

“Nope!” Jeremy scratched his neck nervously. “Do you think it was the same one Evan was worried about?”

“Can’t be,” Michael replied. “The one I saw was a literal rabbit. This one is animatronic. There’s no way those two are the same thing.”

“I suppose not.” Jeremy shrugged, regretting holding up this conversation. “You seem… less grouchy than earlier.”

Michael turned to Jeremy wearily. “I had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I just… I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior this morning.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “And um. I was wondering if, like, there was a way to sort things out?”

“Oh, you mean about borrowing my clothes? Don’t even sweat it, I don’t need them back.” Michael returned his focus to his work.

“I know Ramona can be awful sometimes-“

“I don’t care about that, Jeremy.” Michael finally gave him proper eye contact, shooting a jolt up Jeremy’s spine. Damn, that was hot. “I don’t care that your sister thinks I’m a killer, or that she thinks my father is also a killer. I couldn’t care less, because she’s right.”

“Oh.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, surprised. “Who did you…?”

“Evan. My baby brother.” Michael turned away again, his voice leaving no room to continue the conversation. Jeremy struggled to find a way to resume it, but he couldn’t.

It was all too comforting when Evan reappeared to confirm that Jeremy hadn’t touched the suit.

“Cassidy can’t figure out why it would have moved,” Evan said, peering at the camera suspiciously. “Music box.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Michael grumbled, but he wound the music box.

“Hey, so how did you die?” Jeremy asked, even though he knew the answer.

Evan raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “That’s such a brash question to ask a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, but depending on how long you’ve been dead, technically you aren’t nine anymore.”

“Leave him alone,” Michael growled.

“You don’t need to coddle me, Mikey.” Evan rolled his eyes. “What year is it?”

“1987,” Jeremy supplied, pretending to be less afraid of the way Michael was glaring at him. He checked the hallway with his vent to try to divert attention. “It is November.”

“So I’ve been dead for like four years then. My dad killed me.”

“He did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Michael, who scowled.

“He’s lying to you. I was the one who killed him.”

“The accident was an accident,” Evan argued. “You’re not a murderer, Mike.”

“I’m close enough to one,” he shot back.

“So wait, why would you say your father killed you?”

“Because he did.” Evan crossed his legs and peered at Jeremy. “I see why the others like you so much.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re so…” Evan snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word. “Honest. Genuine. Something like that.”

“Candid, maybe?” Jeremy offered.

Michael made an irritated noise as Evan brightened. “That’s the word! Yeah, you’re just so candid and blunt about everything. It’s refreshing. No handholding or coddling.”

“I don’t coddle you more than you try to coddle me,” Michael grumbled.

“Anyway,” Evan shot a pointed look at his brother. “What actually happened was Mikey tried to play a prank on me regarding Fredbear. One of the animatronics of the original diner.” When Jeremy looked confused, Evan elaborated. “The first place wasn’t Freddy’s. Our father and Uncle Henry opened the business as Fredbear’s Family Diner. There were two original animatronics. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “I stuck him in Fredbear’s mouth, and the bloody bear bit down on his head. It was my fault.”

“Your fault I was in the hospital, but not your fault I died,” Evan countered. “Michael was all about apologizing, promising to be a better brother if I just woke up. But when Father came to visit, he told me that this attention-seeking was ridiculous, that I should just open my eyes so the bad press would go away.”

Evan’s tone grew quieter, and even Michael paused, his expression softening. “He said that if I didn’t get up, I didn’t deserve to live. And then I was in the suit, with only Fredbear to keep me company.”

That’s the golden bear then, Jeremy thought. “So, your father is your killer?”

“Not just mine. All the missing kids too.” Evan shrugged. “We’d tear him to pieces if we could find him, but there’s only so many hours ghosts are awake.”

“Presumably only during this shift,” Michael added. “I don’t think Phil ever mentioned the haunted animatronics, and Ramona only mentioned rumors about them.”

Evan and Michael both didn’t seem very inclined to speak much after that. Michael did try to stop him when he went for his next patrol, but he didn’t care too much. The patrol was something he’d always done, and just because he was sharing a shift with someone in the office now didn’t mean he was going to stop doing it. It just gave him a longer time limit.

Maybe at some point he could ask about this mysterious ‘Cassidy’ that Evan kept mentioning. But for now, he checked corners and looked in the camera blind spots, knowing that most didn’t ever bother to check. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica didn’t seem too interested in leaving the stage tonight, which Jeremy was grateful for. The Puppet was sealed away, the music box wound tightly to keep the music playing.

And he remembered Evan’s words about Cassidy preferring to have people stay out of Parts and Service. Instead of entering the room, he just whispered at the door, “I’m trusting you to have everything handled in there Cassidy.”

A cold feeling enveloped him, and he shuddered as he walked away. It was weird to miss Mangle on a shift, but he supposed they wouldn’t come around while Evan was guarding the office. He checked the back door quickly to ensure it was locked and was glad to find that Michael had indeed locked it behind him.

“I wish I could complain about the job you’re doing here, but it seems to be fantastic,” Jeremy said with a sigh as he plopped back into his chair.

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, the constant frown relenting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got the door locked and everything. Better than Fritz does, anyway.”

“Door was already locked when I got here,” Michael said. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Huh. Interesting. Jeremy was curious about Michael’s sense of humor though, so he poked a little more. “Of course, I can’t really give you all the credit, since it seems that Evan and Cassidy are the ones who are actually in charge around here. They just tolerate you.”

Evan snorted at that, covering his mouth as Michael’s expression returned to a scowl. “I don’t know that you can say you’ve been doing much either, Jeremy.”

“I’m not claiming to. But the animatronics like me, according to Evan, so I have a one-up on you.”

Michael shook his head, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The rest of the night passed in somewhat stiff silence.

“See you tomorrow night, I guess. Fitzgerald.” Michael rose, offering a hand for Jeremy to shake.

“Same to you, dude.” Jeremy shook his hand cheerily, trying not to visibly wince as Michael crushed his hand in the shake. “Until next time, Afton-“

As soon as he started to say the last word, Michael shoved him back against the wall, covering his mouth. A thrill ran through Jeremy as pain shot up his back. He couldn’t help a startled whimper as Michael glared at him with icy blue eyes.

“Never call me that. Understand? Never.”

“I… I understand! Yep! Never going to call you that ever again, never ever!” Jeremy chirped back, knowing his enthusiasm was way more than the situation required.

“It’s Schmidt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Then… I’ll see you tonight, Schmidt.”

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket to start chewing it before he walked out of the security office. Evan had disappeared somewhere around 5, so Jeremy remained to tidy up a tiny bit before walking out to his car.

Michael was still on the sidewalk, presumably going to walk home, and Jeremy did not accept that he was just going to be walking in the chilly air in only his work uniform. He drove alongside Michael, rolling down his window. “Need a ride home?”

“No.” Michael kept walking, not even glancing at the car. “I’m used to walking everywhere.”

“You could catch a cold!” Jeremy protested.

“Good thing I’m not the only one on shift then,” he shot back, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Go home, Fitzgerald.”

“Alright fine. But if you get sick, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m so terrified of the threat,” Michael replied sarcastically. “Goodbye.”

Rude, Jeremy thought with mild annoyance. But this was progress from last time! Last time, Michael hadn’t had much to say except “fuck off,” so at least Jeremy got through it this time without that. And he’d also gotten information that Ramona hadn’t had, which meant she was wrong about Michael Afton.

“So ghosts are real?” Ramona pressed as Jeremy hung up the phone after receiving a call from his friend Sebastian.

He was so lucky Seb was willing to give him a discount, so lucky he was willing to do repairs without questioning things. Jeremy had already gotten rid of the couch and burned his old sheets. The last step to making the whole rabbit nightmare a forgotten memory was the torn flooring.

“Yeah. And Evan has a much better sense of humor than his brother.” Jeremy shot his sister a skeptical look. “You’re not surprised by anything else I said?”

“Like what? The kid forgiving his older brother? You said he was like nine?”

Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like she was completely right either. “But-“

“Jer, you’re being dumb about all this. You need to think with your brain at least some of the time.”

“I am using my brain! I was asking all the questions I needed answers to.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still so blatantly defending Michael Afton?”

Because if he’s a monster, then so am I, Jeremy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Forget it.”

“Jeremy-“

“No, it’s not worth arguing about. But Evan gave me back my keys.” Jeremy stood up moodily. “It was nice talking with you, Ramona, but I gotta get some sleep before tonight’s shift.”

“Jer, what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me about it, right?” Ramona pressed.

“I know. I just don’t feel like getting into it right now. That’s all. Have a good day, Mona.”

“You too, Jer.” Ramona hesitated for another moment. “I’m here for you, if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Ramona shot him a worried look as she got through the door, careful to avoid catching her pants on the splintered wood that Sebastian was going to replace.

After his sister left, Jeremy stripped, unsure of what triggered him to turn into the rabbit. He didn’t want to ruin clothes that didn’t belong to him though, so he wasn’t taking chances as he went to rest properly for the first time in ages.

Michael let himself back into his house with a heavy sigh. That shift had been long. He undid his tie, ignoring the impatient meowing at his feet while he changed out of his work clothes. “Give me some time, Logan.”

Logan meowed again, pawing at his empty bowl.

“One second, Logan.” Michael pulled a new shirt over his head before giving the cat a scratch behind his ear. “I’ll get that bowl filled in no time.”

After feeding Logan, Michael was tempted to go out and look for the bunny again. Surely it couldn’t have gone far, right? Even if it had been gone for a day, maybe it was just hungry and hunting. Maybe it had tried to return while Michael was gone and couldn’t get back in. Maybe-

You’re overthinking this. God, you are such a freak Michael. Michael shook his head, walking toward the place where he’d last seen the rabbit. Maybe the dumpster was its home?

His hopefulness diminished as he approached the dumpster. He couldn’t see any sign of it anyway. Shoulders slumping, he prepared to walk back, so he could let Logan have his own walk.

A soft thumb behind him made him hesitate though. Michael turned, excitement growing as he saw the giant shape of the golden rabbit who’d appeared very suddenly. “There you are!” Michael exclaimed, beaming as he reached out for the bunny.

His new friend nuzzled into his hand immediately, rubbing its fluffy face against his hand. “I missed you buddy,” Michael whispered into the overwhelmingly soft fur.

A soft rumble in the bunny’s throat soothed him, making all the irritation and torment from the last day completely vanishing. “You can’t just disappear on me, you know,” Michael said, trying for a scolding tone.

The bunny thumped his back foot as a reply.

“What? Are you going to say you didn’t miss me? Because I think you’d be lying.”

The bunny nosed at his neck. A soft, wet feeling made Michael’s neck prickle in the cold.

“Is that a way of saying you did miss me?” Michael asked, scratching up behind the rabbit’s ear.

He stumbled a bit as the rabbit rocked forward, knocking him off-balance a little bit. The rabbit kept nuzzling him until he was completely knocked to the ground. Startled, he didn’t even attempt to get up before he was completely enveloped in soft, warm, golden fur.

“Hey, hang on a sec-“ Michael tried to protest before the bunny squished its head down over his, keeping him even more safely enveloped in warmth. “I need to let Logan out for a bit! You’re going to make it so a poor little kitty can’t stretch his legs, is that what you want?”

A grumbling noise resonated in the back of the bunny’s throat, but it let Michael get to his feet. “Thank you.”

Michael walked back, knowing that the bunny was going to follow him back this time. He didn’t even need to stress about it. Michael grabbed his mail from the box on his way back into the house, tossing the pile onto his table before shaking the harness to get Logan to come running.

“Time for your walk, you crazy cat,” Michael said, pretending to ignore the rabbit who’d opted to lurk on the front lawn instead of coming in this time. Maybe it likes to be free to roam, he thought to himself.

Logan was happy enough to take his walk, purring as they returned. Shortly after Michael walked through the door and started undoing Logan’s harness, the rabbit wriggled into the house, looming behind Michael.

After he’d shut the door, Michael let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes briefly. Gotta check the mail first, he scolded himself as he yawned again.

Glancing at the top of the stack, Michael felt himself pale. It was another letter from his father, this time marked as urgent. He hadn’t even opened the last one, and now he was getting another? Michael was just grateful his father didn’t know his phone number, but then actual horror struck him. He could just come to my house.

Michael twitched, grabbing the letter so tightly the edges crinkled. With a solid grip, he ripped the envelope and the contents in half. The rabbit flinched, clearly not expecting such a violent action. Logan was unaffected, as usual.

He tossed the torn remains into his trash bin and stalked to his bedroom, trying so hard not to start trembling or crying. The bunny nudged the door open and sniffed at the edge of his bed. Michael patted the side of his bed, giving it permission to jump up. The bunny took the permission easily, pressing comforting warmth into Michael’s back as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Michael sobbed quietly. “It’s bad enough knowing that I did something monstrous, but he does it on purpose. I bet he’s out there doing it to some other poor kids now, and I’m just not strong enough to stand up to him.”

The bunny rumbled out a growl at the blame Michael placed on himself, but it still soothed his pain with soft fur. He rolled over and buried his face properly into the fur, his fingers tangling into the strands. So soft, he thought to himself, tears dampening the fur of the bunny’s chest.

Not that it seemed to mind, pulling Michael closer as he started drifting off to sleep. “I just don’t get it…” Michael trailed off, finally relaxing enough to let go of consciousness.

Jeremy woke up with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Michael. Why am I not surprised? he thought to himself, carefully untangling himself from his sleeping coworker. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.

Unease sank into Jeremy as he realized he was yet again left to try to sneak out without clothing. But at least he was in Michael’s room this time, and he could just grab clothes without getting caught.

His foot hit something soft and warm, and a disgruntled meow made Jeremy realize the cat was also here. Oh shit. Directing a glare at the cat, Jeremy climbed out of the bed without causing the cat or Michael to wake up completely. The black cat nestled back into his paws, purring loudly as Jeremy snuck a new pair of clothing out of Michael’s drawer.

He left quickly, pushing open a window and crawling out of it, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet as he landed on rocks. Jeremy glanced around before hurrying toward his house, memorizing the address as he left the place.

He felt bad for ditching, but he also knew he could not just stay after all that. Not after how upset Michael had seemed the first time. Until he could control when he turned into a rabbit and maybe stay as a rabbit when around Michael, then he wasn’t taking any chances.

Back home, Jeremy slipped socks onto his feet and glanced at the time. He had plenty of time to spare before work, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. I’m not supposed to know where he lives, Jeremy thought glumly.

The phone ringing pulled Jeremy away from spiraling in his obsession. Maybe Ramona was right about all that stuff anyway. “Hello? Jeremy Fitzgerald here.”

“Jeremy! What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice. No offense, but we all thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael told me,” Jeremy chuckled nervously, wondering why Lloyd was calling him.

“Hey, you’re not too opposed to just sharing that shift with him, right? I mean, I know you said you absolutely did not want to have to deal with kids, and I completely understand. Michael had the same qualms about the shift, but this is the only shift where no one is stuck hanging around children. But you’re all good with that? You’re fine sharing the workload? It's probably better anyway, having two people check on the place during those hours. Keeps the place safer- I mean, more secure!” Lloyd blabbed on, talking so fast Jeremy could barely keep up with what he was saying.

“I’m okay with it. Is he?” Jeremy leaned back against the wall, a finger hooked absently into the phone cord. An excuse to spend more time with Michael? No way was he turning that down.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, he actually seemed more than happy to have someone else there. I guess he doesn’t have the same familiarity you have with the job yet. He’s probably a bit jittery about the atmosphere. You know, he’s never had a nighttime security job before, actually.”

“Lloyd, is that all you needed from me, or is there something else?”

“Oh, that’s it. Uh, except one thing. We found a bunch of the torn remains of your uniform. Did you want a new one? I’m guessing that you’ve been using the spare, but you should really have more than one.”

“By that logic, I should have at least three,” Jeremy pointed out. “In case one is misplaced or ruined, or another incident like the other night happens.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Toy Bonnie came after me. I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I don’t need to fill out an incident report or anything do I? I mean, as far as I’m aware, no one got hurt.”

“Nobody was hurt in the incident. We didn’t actually know that until just now actually.” Lloyd laughed nervously. “No, we don’t need anything from you, don’t worry! It just would’ve helped us if you’d remembered something about Toy Bonnie attacking, or maybe Fritz coming in-“

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I can be in in a couple minutes if you have extra uniforms ready.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can totally do that. Yeah, if you come in before 6, I can totally get you set up with some new uniforms.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 5 then.”

“Fantastic!”

Jeremy hung up the phone feeling more awkward than ever before. At least he’d have a uniform again.

When he saw Michael at the next shift, he set out by tipping his hat at the other man. No response. Evan seemed a bit distracted today as well, somewhat of a frown crossing his face.

Jeremy sat down awkwardly in his chair, remembering Lloyd’s words from earlier. If he had to guess, maybe Michael had been relieved to have an excuse to make sure Jeremy wasn’t in any danger after all the personal risks he took at work.

“I’m going to do a patrol,” he announced abruptly, picking up his flashlight.

“Don’t die,” Evan said, peering over Michael’s shoulder.

“Right…” Jeremy looked at Michael hopefully, but the other man gave him no indication that he was going to say anything in reply.

The night was somewhat quiet. It was weird having the toy animatronics remaining onstage every night, and Jeremy almost wished they’d move so he could at least know that Toy Bonnie hadn’t been a fluke. Even Mangle hadn’t sought him out since he’d turned, presumably too afraid of him now to approach.

It made sense, considering how Percy was taking the exact same approach with him, but it still stung to know that his dog and his favorite animatronic no longer seemed to see him as a safe person. Even Evan didn’t trust him in that form, if Jeremy’s memory served correctly.

Nobody saw him as more than a monster aside from Michael. Was that why he was so magnetized to the other man? Physical attributes aside, Michael seemed well-guarded, not trusting other people. But he seemed to have a secret affection for animals. Even with the amount he swore at his cat, he seemed to love the cat enough to care for it when he was not in the mood to care for the poor thing.

Sighing, Jeremy started to head back toward the cold atmosphere of the main office. He stopped upon hearing what sounded like sobbing coming from Parts and Service.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Jeremy asked, hoping for a gentle tone.

“No!” The door flew open, nearly hitting Jeremy in the face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the small girl glowering at him with thick black tear streaks running down her face. “He’s come back, and I can’t stop him!”

“Who came back?” Jeremy asked, crouching down to her level. “Sorry for asking, but I seem to be a bit out of the loop.”

“You take things more seriously than most,” she huffed. Then she blinked at him. “Wait, you’re that security guard guy. We all thought you died!”

“That seems to be the common consensus,” Jeremy sighed. “But who came back? Clearly he’s no one good if you are unhappy about it.”

“No. He killed me, and he’s gonna kill more kids.”

“Oh.” A prickle of fear made Jeremy tremble a bit at that. “When did he come back?”

“Not too long ago. We didn’t notice the changes in his suit, but-“ she glanced at the darkened area for a moment. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist, and he was startled to discover that apparently ghosts could in fact touch people.

“So, originally, he was in that locker there, right?” the girl gestured at the locker Jeremy had originally spotted the animatronic at.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s not anymore. Now he’s on the floor over here,” Cassidy pointed directly at where the golden bunny suit was slumped next to the old Freddy model.

“Oh. And this suit’s not possessed right? Nobody should be moving it?”

“No one should be moving it. Employees can get fired for touching it, much less moving it. And I haven’t seen it move on its own.”

“Ghosts can only do things at this time of night…” Jeremy trailed off thoughtfully. “You think it’s the same guy who killed you?”

“I know it is. I had to ask a bunch of times to get anywhere with Evan. That kid is so tight-lipped, I swear.” The girl shook her head. “But apparently, this suit here can only be activated by a key. One person had that key.”

“Your killer.”

“William Afton,” she confirmed. “At least, that’s what Evan says, but he’s been wrong about so much lately, that I’m just worried he’s wrong about that too.”

“Did you try asking Michael?”

“Evan doesn’t think I should talk to the security guards.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks I’ll just kill you guys. But I’m not that murderous. I still have a brain, unlike some people.”

“So you must be Cassidy?”

“Yep.” Cassidy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to complain because it makes sense that Evan wants to spend time with his brother, but I miss being able to roam the pizzeria freely. Ever since Toy Bonnie got dinged, I’ve been checking in here to make sure Spring Bonnie hasn’t been used. I think we scared him off pretty well though.”

“Spring Bonnie…?”

“The yellow rabbit suit,” Cassidy pointed, rolling her eyes. “Oh! One more thing. I know you’re like, nocturnal or whatever like we are. But you can actually wake up during the day. Could you like, keep an eye out for someone wearing the suit?”

“I mean, I suppose. Did Evan bring that up to Michael?”

“I doubt it. He hates the idea of getting you guys involved.” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Something about trying not to cause more deaths than necessary, but he’s not going to kill an adult out in the open like that. I think it’s fine.”

“Huh. Okay. I mean, I can try…”

“Whatever works.” Cassidy seemed satisfied, finally noticing the red light on in the camera. “Oh! Say cheese!”

“That’s a live feed, Cassidy. It’s not a picture camera.”

“You’re no fun.” Cassidy stuck her tongue out at him. “Bye bye for now. I’ll expect results later.”

“I hope I’ll have results for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy said cheerfully before disappearing.

Resigning himself to the blinking light of the security camera, Jeremy went back to the office. If he hadn’t been sure before, Evan’s scowl told him plenty about what he needed to know.

“What were you thinking?” Evan hissed, his eyes so dark there was absolutely no color aside from the darkest of dark pits.

“Uhh…”

“She could’ve killed you!”

“She dragged me in there!” Jeremy said in protest.

“Did she now? Maybe she’s just lonely because she lost her best friend.” Michael shot a pointed look at his brother.

“Cassidy can’t stand me,” Evan scoffed, but he let up on Jeremy a little bit. “What did she want?”

“Help with her little investigation into Spring Bonnie.” Jeremy dropped into his chair and peered at the camera monitor in Michael’s hands. “Still no animatronic movement, huh? Almost like they were told to stay put.”

He raised an eyebrow at Evan. The kid rolled his eyes, the frown not relenting. “Toys aren’t our thing. We watch over the others.”

“So the toys not moving is also suspicious behavior?” Jeremy asked. “Hey, not to be dumb or anything, but how much did your dad work with the animatronics?”

“He helped create them, so a pretty significant amount,” Michael answered. “Evan, I just think you should make up with her.”

“There’s nothing to make up! She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ll stay out of her space, and she can take care of the others!”

“She said you told her to stay in Parts and Service,” Jeremy said.

“You’re going to believe her over me? Mikey, you can’t believe this, surely!”

“I mean, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never spoken to Cassidy before, and if its your word or Jeremy’s, then I’ll take your word for it. But I do still think you should try to resolve this conflict you have with her-“

“Think what you want then! I don’t care!” Evan’s eyes flashed before he abruptly vanished.

Jeremy sat in stunned silence as Michael just continued checking things. “Well that was…”

“He’s just pouting. We’ve had this argument before, don’t worry.” Michael didn’t glance over at Jeremy as he talked. “So, Cassidy let you off with a warning or something I’m guessing?”

“I already said she dragged me in. She wants me to go in during the day and look out for a guy in a rabbit costume.”

“That could only be one person, you know,” Michael said grimly, sitting back to start giving Jeremy his attention. “My father only made one key for that suit.”

“Cassidy said that. She also seems a bit weary of taking information from Evan since he seems a little…”

“Mixed up?” Michael shrugged. “Yeah, don’t put too much stock in what he says. I don’t think he fully knows where he’s at.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Jeremy wasn’t fully appreciative of that response. “So, you still think your dad killed those kids?”

“Without a doubt. He was always a bit more bitter when he had to deal with them, and if the other kids say it was the golden bunny man, then who am I to say they’re wrong? It makes sense.” Michael shook his head. “I still don’t understand what kind of monster could willingly decide that kids couldn’t get to live their lives though.”

“A kind that’s actually a monster as opposed to someone who thinks of himself as one?” Jeremy offered.

Michael turned his gaze on Jeremy lazily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“Not more than Evan’s assurances. Listen, I made my peace with what I did a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Jeremy laid a reassuring hand on Michael’s arm. “You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you and your dad are even remotely in the same league-“

“Yeah, but a monster is a monster, aren’t they? Killers are monsters, Jeremy. Simple as that.” Michael slipped his hand away and went back to the cameras. “It’s not like it’s possible to always spot a monster on the surface anyway. Maybe you’re just telling yourself I can’t be a monster because I don’t look like one.”

Jeremy stiffened at that. You don’t have to look like a monster to be a monster. Did that mean the opposite was true too? He wanted desperately to know the answer.

Michael tried to give him a smile. “Look, it’s no big deal, really. If you aren’t actively saying I’m following in my father’s footsteps, then I think things are okay, you know? Like, I may not really like you, but I don’t think you’re a complete twat.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that, instead shining his light into the vent to avoid the heat that rose to his face at what he was guessing was meant to be a compliment.

“Anytime.” Michael chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s going for a full night sulk tonight. Guess it’s just us now.”

“Think you’ll be able to handle the office once I go on my next patrol?” Jeremy asked teasingly.

Michael snorted. “With the animatronics the way they are? I’ll be more than fine.”

“Good to know.”

A few nights passed like this, Michael offering minimal conversation during the shift, Jeremy taking his time to do patrols and update Cassidy on what he saw during the days.

It wasn’t much more than he had during the night, but Cassidy seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. And if he showed up to work tired, then that was fine too. Michael would shake his head, and Evan was still pouting about his argument with Cassidy, so he didn’t care.

Still, he felt a little bit bad whenever he realized he’d nodded off, insisting that Michael wake him. And evidently, that was not happening every time it happened. It hadn’t hurt anything so far though, so Jeremy was willing to let it slide.

It had taken him ages, quietly arguing with Evan while Jeremy slumped in his chair, to convince his brother to try and work things out with Cassidy. Evan had been furious that Cassidy was putting Jeremy in harm’s way, but Michael thought he probably knew the risks of what he was getting into.

Why should Cassidy get the blame anyway? She wanted help, not to doom another man to die. And Evan had given plenty of warning, so Jeremy could’ve backed out whenever he wanted to, so it was fine. There was simply no need to keep blaming Cassidy.

Michael spared a glance away from his constant checking to look at the uncomfortable way Jeremy had passed out in his chair, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, hat knocked askew. On impulse, he reached over and fixed Jeremy’s hat, before deciding to move him to the floor.

Jeremy’s head knocked into Michael’s chest, and he felt sure that the man would wake. Jeremy hardly stirred, so Michael continued to lay him down, removing Jeremy’s jacket to tuck it beneath his head like a pillow. There, Michael thought to himself, somewhat satisfied before he went back to flick through the cameras absently.

Unfortunately for Mike, however, he’d missed the sound of an animatronic crawling into the vent, too focused on making sure he didn’t wake up Jeremy to pay much attention to the world around him.

The loud static did eventually catch Michael’s attention, and he set the monitor down, forgetting to wind the music box as he glanced at the phone. It was in its cradle, and belatedly Michael realized that noise meant animatronic, and he turned to check the vent just as Mangle swung down to attack.

Michael yowled in pain as the impact knocked him from his chair and plastic teeth tore through his face. The edge of the desk caught the other side of his face, making his vision blurry as he faintly caught the sound of tearing fabric and an angry growl.

Something warm ran down his face as the animatronic screeched, hiding away from the giant shadow looming over Michael. Struggling to push himself upright, he found himself surrounded by golden fur. Oh. Michael blinked blood out of his eye, struggling to process the scene around him, only slightly frightened now that he knew his rabbit friend had somehow appeared to aid him. I hope it doesn’t step on my coworker. That’d be awkward to explain.

“Mikey!” Evan’s voice echoed in the quiet environment. “Michael?”

The bunny was growling, a low rumble vibrating through its body. Cool hands cupped both sides of Michael’s face as Evan’s face came into view.

“Oh my god,” Evan breathed, smudging the blood stream ever so slightly. “Where did Jeremy go? I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Michael answered slowly, still struggling to focus on his brother’s face. “Your hands are cold.”

“Of course they are.” Evan huffed in exasperation. “Wait, you’re totally in shock. Mikey…”

“The music box…” Michael trailed off as he registered that a completely quiet room was not a good thing.

Evan’s eye widened. “Oh no.”

The sound of aggressive music echoed in the halls as the Puppet made its approach. Not that it was much of a problem, seeing as Michael’s bunny pinned the animatronic to the ground before it could do much.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Evan said hurriedly. “Uh, I need to-“

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” Michael’s eyelids fluttered shut as Evan went away to shout at the bunny who was currently having a very intense stare down with the Puppet.

Jeremy hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep on shift that night. Waking up tangled in bindings made of shimmery thread had not been the most reassuring thing. More startling than that, however, was the pooling blood around Michael’s head as Evan argued with an unfamiliar girl.

Cautiously he untangled himself and dug into the duffel bag he started to bring to every shift, grateful for his planning as the remains of his uniform remained littered across the floor. The bickering children didn’t notice as he slipped his uniform on quickly before pressing his jacket (which for some reason was folded on the floor) to the wound on Michael’s head. Jeremy managed to pull the man close so he could hold the fabric to the wound while still being able to dial for the hospital.

Jeremy didn’t know how Michael had been injured, but based on the teeth marks, he had a sinking feeling Mangle had done something to the poor man. He did look a bit too similar to his father for Jeremy’s liking. That had to be the real reason Michael was so vigilant and why Evan was so paranoid about him missing things in the cameras.

The children stopped arguing to look at him when he was explaining things to the emergency operator, seeming to realize that maybe there were more urgent things to deal with than whatever they’d been arguing about. Jeremy clutched the plastic tightly in one hand as he clutched to Michael’s injury with the other.

Evan was the first to approach Jeremy, looking more disheveled than Jeremy even knew ghosts could be. “You’re the rabbit thing.”

Jeremy nodded awkwardly. He knew they’d discovered him the minute he’d woken up and was tangled in that same shimmery stuff that he’d seen under his skin before he transformed the first time.

“Our conversation isn’t over, Evan,” the girl said, impatiently. “Sure, Mike takes priority, but the fact that you guys tried to lock me away is absolutely insane.”

“How about we skip the interrogation until we know that Michael’s okay,” Jeremy said weakly.

“I guess that’s a good way to put things.” The girl crouched at Michael’s side, brushing bloodied hair out of his face. “Although you and me need a talk at some point, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“I’m long overdue for talks with a bunch of people now,” Jeremy muttered.

Please be okay.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 28

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

As you come outside, your mom sits on the deck, under the umbrella with a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. You can hardly tell if she’s awake. You hug yourself as you come into the summer light and look around. There’s a bottle of sun lotion on the railing of the deck. 

You cross the wooden planks and grab the bottle. As you pop the cap, your mom mutters. You turn as you squirt some into your hand. You look at her. 

“Do you need some?” You ask. 

“What in the lord’s name are you wearing?” She snarls. 

“Um,” you look down, once more shocked by the sight of your own body. “A swim suit. I... I’ll put a shirt on.” 

“Hey, Hol,” Steve comes out in a pair of lilac coloured trunks, “what do you think? Got the kiddo a swimsuit so she can enjoy the pool.” 

“Oh, you did?” Your mom hums as she leans her face in her hand, “how nice.” 

“Too bad you can’t join us,” Steve approaches and stops between you and your mom’s chair. “Got myself some new shorts.” 

He turns to her as you’re left watching his back. His muscle is thick and you can see it tense with his movement. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, his arms burly too. Age has only seemed to add to his strong form. 

“Those are nice,” your mom says without much conviction, “I got a suit somewhere but... the water makes me sick. It’s these damn meds.” 

“Yeah, but they keep you going,” Steve nears her and bends to kiss her forehead. “You can be our lifeguard, how about that? Been a while since I’ve been in the deep end.” 

“You’re so...” she pauses and measures her words, “silly.” 

“It’s a nice day,” he booms, “did you try the smoothie? I put some vitamin C in it, too. Should help you feel a bit better. Oh, kiddo,” he claps and turns to face you, “did you want a smoothie? I got fresh raspberries.” 

“Erm, no thanks, I’m good,” you affirm and back away, focusing on spreading the lotion up your arms. 

“Towels are down on the chairs,” he says, “Holly Berry,” he gives your mom a strange nickname, “you sure you don’t wanna move closer?” 

“I needa stay in the shade,” she fans herself and reaches for the bright orange smoothie, “that damn inhaler. I told the doctor take me off it--” 

“Now, he’s just doing his job--” 

“I know. Don’t gotta keep saying so,” she slams the cup down and you glance over as her hand shakes violently. She’s worked up. She sits back as she tries to still herself, only for the tremor to quake through her. 

“Right, well, chill out,” Steve shrugs and backs off, “we’ll go cool off in the water.” 

He turns to face you and nears, “can I get some of that?” 

You offer him the bottle then work at smearing the lotion along your collar bone and around the top of the suit. You bring your hands to your tummy, rubbing the oiliness into your skin as Steve takes the lotion. You notice his eyes linger on you for a moment. 

“Come on, gotta check the temperature,” he waves you down the steps. 

You follow as you continue to work the lotion into your skin. You still need to get your legs and face. You continue across the lawn to the pool and Steve dollops a health heap of lotion into one hand before giving back the bottle. He slaps his hand against his chest and rubs in the sunscreen, his fingertips pressing into his muscles as he works down to his softer tummy. 

You bend to your legs. You would’ve rather a one-piece just so you wouldn’t have to use as much. As you put a light layer on your face, Steve grabs the bottle from where you left it on the lounger.  

“Here, turn around,” he squirts out the lotion into his palm. “I’ll get your back, you get mine.” 

You can’t argue. Besides, you can barely look at him. You’d rather stare at the fence. 

You turn and drop your arms. He puts his hands over your shoulders, jolting you, kneading harder than you expect. You feel his breath fan over the back of your head and he traces his thumbs around your shoulder blade, catching on the tail of the tie behind your neck. For a moment, you think he might pull it free. 

He spreads his hands, dragging them down, working in the lotion around your hips and sides, sending shivers through you. A trickle of sweat rolls down your spine and you draw away. His fingertips trail along your lower back wistfully.  

“Here,” he snatches up the lotion and hands it to you, smiling. You nod and take it. 

He turns his back to you and you gulp. Oof. You don’t know what’s worse. Being touched or touching him. It all seems so... strange even if it’s completely innocent. You’re just helping him. He does have a lot of back. 

You squeeze out the cream and rub it between your hands, hovering them before his back before you make yourself touch him. You swipe your hands up and down and side to side, working around the lotion to full cover his back. He groans and twitches as you come along the back of his ribs. 

“Careful,” he turns his head to speak over his shoulder, “old college injury. Don’t think it ever really healed.” 

“Oh,” you ease up, “sorry.” 

“Nah, you can’t hurt me, sweetie,” he insists and leans into your touch. 

You finish up and retract, trying to absorb what’s left into your palms. The greasy sensation irritates you. He turns as you reach to fix the tie behind your neck, making sure it’s tight as it feels like the suit is slipping. He blinks and his eyes flick up and down. 

“Well, are you gonna dive in?” He asks. 

“Erm, uh, I can just use the ladder,” you say as you tiptoe around him to the edge. You look down into the crystalline water, “it looks cold.” 

“Got the heater going,” he says, “shouldn’t be too bad.” 

He stands beside you and extends his leg to dip a toe into it, “not bad at all.” 

“Mm, maybe in a few minutes,” you cross your arms again, “I’m not a great swimmer.” 

“Well, I can keep an eye on you,” he reaches to tickle along your upper arm, goose dumps rising across your skin. 

“Sure, uh,” you edge away from him and run your fingers along where he touched. His hands are always on you. At least that’s how it seems to you. “Just... gotta build up my nerve.” 

“Mm,” he backs up, “sure, well, there’s the diving board and... I guess you could just sunbathe.” 

“Yeah, mayb--” 

Before you can finish, you’re scooped off your feet. You cry out as Steve lifts you up and launches himself into the pool. He keeps you in his arms as he splashes into the water and you flail wildly. You’re swallowed up as the chlorine floods your mouth and nostrils and you choke beneath the surface. 

You writhe against him, his thick arms around you, and try to free yourself. The knot at the front of your bikini catches your pinkie and you struggle to untangle both your hand and your body at once. You finally come up above the water and gasp as Steve follows, laughing as he keeps his embrace loosely around you. 

“Sometimes you just need the extra push,” he beams, “isn’t it refreshing?” 

You push the water away from your face and cough. As you do, he goes quiet and you spit up behind your hand. You can only taste the chlorinated water as you hack. You look up at him as his hands slowly creep up your sides. His blue eyes are fixated on you but not on your face. 

You look down at your chest, the knot on the front of the suit barely clinging together as you spill out from the fabric. The top merely acts to frame your nudity and you sputter as you try to cover yourself and his hands continue to ascend. You back away from his grasp and turn away. 

“Sweetie, it’s fine, all good,” he assures you. 

“Why would you do that?” You sniffle. 

“It was only some fun. I didn’t know... I’m sorry. I didn’t know the suit didn’t fit right.” 

“It’s not the suit,” you stretch the wet fabric across your tits as best you can, keeping your back to him. “I said... I told you... I wanted to wait.” 

“Ah come on, what good is having a pool if you don’t go in it?” 

“It’s your pool,” you snap, your cheek on fire as the rest of you buzzes. You wade through the water with effort. “I never asked for it.” 

“Now sweetie, don’t be like that.” 

“Please,” you pull yourself up the later, the water slaking off you and threatening to drag down the top once more, “leave me alone.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, hooking your hands over your shoulders, and rush away from the pool. You glance up at your mother as you pass the deck, hooking around to the gate instead. She doesn’t react as her head lolls over the back of the chair and her feet are splayed wide. You should get her inside but you can’t stop. You’re too humiliated. 

You race through the gate, not bothering to close it behind you. You clammer around into your mother’s yard and storm up the steps, crashing through the front door. The tears spring the moment you break the threshold as it sets in. You can’t believe that happened. You can’t believe he saw it. You just... can’t. 

[happiest-hotch]

Can you write something summer-y for Hotch? Maybe he comes home early from a case and finds Reader and Jack having fun in the pool? Or anything that gives that summer feeling lol

One of the best things about living with Aaron and Jack, aside from getting to live with your favorite people in the world, is the pool.

You didn’t understand why it was such a deal breaker for him since he and Jack barely used the one at his old apartment, until summer rolled around and with it, the heat.

DC’s heatwave would have killed you without a pool.

Jack had jumped in right after soccer day camp and after an hour of cooling off, he finally agreed on coming inside for dinner. The routine is a little more relaxed when Aaron’s away, even more so when it’s summer vacation.

That reason alone is probably why he easily convinced you to get back in the pool after dinner and TV, just before bedtime.

But it’s Friday and wearing him out means he’ll sleep to mid morning Saturday and hopefully it serves as a distraction from him missing his dad. Night time is usually when he misses his dad the most do you do what’s possible to ensure he’s asleep as son as his head his the pillow.

Aaron has echoed the same feeling when you talk to him on the phone, and he definitely has it worse, halfway across the country in Dallas where the weather is switching between thunderstorms and extreme humidity.

“You wanna play Marco Polo?” You ask Jack, distracting yourself from looking at the barbecue and remembering Aaron grilling just before he left.

He splashes some water your way before answering. “Okay, you go first. I’ve been practicing holding my breath though so you’ll lose.”

His identical competitive spirit to Aaron’s doesn’t go unnoticed by you and you grin as you splash some water back.

You cup your hand over your eyes, listening to him splash away from you. “Marco!” You call.

“Polo.” The reply came from a voice far too deep to being to an eight year old and you pull your hands off your eyes to see Aaron standing by the pool’s edge.

“Daddy!” Jack exclaims, jumping out of the pool and running over to hug Aaron. He’s soaking wet, dripping with chlorinated water, but Aaron don’t hesitate to hug him. He shed his jacket and tie, but you’re not sure how he’s coping with how hot it is in a long sleeve shirt and dress pants.

“Hey, bud.” Aaron greets him. “What are you doing up at…” He pauses to check the time on his watch, eyes darting to you still in the pool. “…8:42.”

You give Aaron your best puppy dog eyes, although you know he’s not mad. “Swimming, duh.” Jack replies, sassy as always.

You bite back a chuckle as Aaron does the same thing. “Yeah, I gathered that.” He says.

“Come in.” Jack insists. “You have to.”

“It’s late and you should probably be in bed already.” Aaron says, taking the firm line like you expected he would.

It’s okay though because you have a plan. “Can you give me a hand up?” You ask, swimming to the edge and holding your hand out.

Aaron frowns slightly, but he’s too excited to see you to ask why you won’t use the stairs. “Sure.” He reaches out to grab your hand but you pull hard, overpowering him easily since he doesn’t expect it.

You quickly swim out of the way, and he lands in the pool behind you, yelping- hilariously- when he hits the water.

Jack’s laughing with you, thoroughly amused by your mischief and enjoying seeing his professionally dressed dad in the pool.

When Aaron surfaces, he’s failing too glare at you. He’d fully commit to the bit of being annoyed if he wasn’t smiling so widely.

“You’re naughty.” Aaron says, waggling his finger at you.

You swim closer to him, brushing some hair off his forehead. “Welcome home.”

[hischierswhore]

eternal pining | jack hughes

pairing: childhood bff!reader x jack hughes

warnings: major angst // unrequited pining // slight cursing // probably other stuff that i missed

author’s note: this might be the longest fic i’ve ever written??? anyways i’m backkkk and hopefully i’ll start being consistent soon. i have so much planned and this has been in the works for quite a while now.

You were sitting on the couch at the Hughes lake house as you discussed your plans for the day. Well, more like you were listening to Ellen & Jim as they told you that they would be leaving on a trip for a few days and Jack was just there. He was on his phone, typing aggressively like the world would end if he didn’t finish whatever he was typing.

A sigh left Ellen’s lips when she realized that her middle child wasn’t even paying attention to what she was saying. You looked at Luke & Quinn, who both also saw that he was just not focusing. Quinn extended his arm to hit Jack’s knee in attempt to get his attention.

You said bye to Ellen & Jim, wishing them a safe trip before helping them carry their bags to their car. As you made your way back inside, you plopped right back into the same spot you were in before.

Moments passed and you turned your phone off, sparking conversation with Quinn & Luke about what the groups plans were for today.

“What do you guys wanna do?” You asked, hoping someone would come up with something fun.

“Boat day?” Luke suggested and you nodded in agreement.

“Are you gonna join us, Jack?” you questioned as you turned around to look at your best friend. His eyes didn’t shift from the device in his hands, causing you to roll your eyes.

You were annoyed, so you moved off the couch and walked to your room to change into your swimsuit.

"Where are you guys going?" Jack asked as you, Quinn & Luke walked towards the deck, his phone now off and on the couch.

"Boat day. We were talking about it but you were too indulged in your phone to even contribute to the conversation" Quinn stated as Jack's mouth formed an 'o' shape.

"Are you joining us or not?" Luke asked, waiting for his brother to respond so he could finally get some sun.

“Oh uh yeah. I'll join y'all. Just give me a few to change" He hopped up from his spot on the couch and went to his room to change while you made your way outside, the other Hughes brothers following.

10 minutes passed and Jack had not yet come outside. You were all getting rather impatient and annoyed with the boy.

"Can we just go without him?" Luke sighed, beyond frustrated with his brother. Just as he said that, the boy trotted out of the house and down the dock to where you all sat. You all immediately noticed his lack of swim trunks and rather a button-down shirt & some jeans.

"Hey guys. Sorry to bail on you all but I've got a date in like-" He looks down at his phone for a moment to check the time. "20 minutes so I've gotta get going. See you all later" Jack waved as he hugged everyone goodbye.

Your heart shattered the moment you heard "a date". You had been hopelessly in love with your best friend since you were kids. You'd known the Hughes brothers since you were 6, and you'd all been inseparable since day 1.

The ever-growing crush you had on Jack was evident to everyone around you except for him. Quinn and Luke would relentlessly tease you when you three were together. Hell, even Trevor and Nico would join in on the teasing whenever you saw them.

You faked a smile at his words, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in your eyes. You looked around at Quinn and Luke, who had already been looking in your direction, knowing damn well what you were thinking.

"Have fun, J. See you later" You said as you looked down, seeing as your mood had now been more ruined than it was before and you didn't want to deal with all your emotions, or rather the cause of these emotions, right now. You knew that if you made eye-contact with the boy, you would have a breakdown.

Jack jogs back up to the house and shuts the patio door, leaving you and the two other Hughes brothers on the boat for the day.

2 pairs of eyes immediately found your figure as you curled into a ball on the couch and let it all out. Both boys immediately came to your side for comfort, knowing how difficult this must be for you.

Luke rubbed your back as you sobbed while Quinn held you in his arms, holding you ever so carefully.

Hours passed before you all decided to head inside.

“I’m gonna head up to my room. If he asks, I'm out. I don't want to talk to him right now" You told the remaining brothers before going into your room and locking yourself away.

— later —

Jack arrived back at the lake house.

“Hey, where’s Y/n?” He asked as he wandered into the living room, noticing his brothers sitting on the couch watching a movie but you were nowhere in sight.

“She went out” Quinn simply said, not feeling the need to give his younger brother details.

"Out? What do you mean she went out?"

"She's not here, Jack. She wanted to go out so she did" Luke shrugged, trying to focus his attention back on the movie.

"And you both let her go by herself?!" Jack was practically shouting.

"She's 22 years old, Jack. She can make her own decisions" Quinn paused the movie to turn his attention to his brother. Jack let out a huff and sat next to his brothers to watch whatever movie they had put on, still ever so slightly upset that you had gone out without him.

20 minutes had passed since that initial exchange when Luke's phone got a notification. He glanced down at it and immediately got up and excused himself to the kitchen with a simple "I'll be back".

“What’s up with him?” Jack whispered to Quinn, who shrugged and paid no mind to his brother's curiosity. Moments later, Luke emerged from the kitchen and raced upstairs quickly.

You had texted Luke asking him to bring you some medication for the growing migraine you had from crying nonstop. He quietly knocked on the door to avoid attracting Jack's attention. You slowly unlocked the door and let the boy in as he handed you the pills and a bottle of water.

"You good?" He asked as you had a hand on your forehead and your eyes were red & puffy.

"I'll be fi-" The words got lost in your throat as you heard footsteps ascending the stairs and you saw the one person you did not want to see: Jack.

You muttered "shit" as you tried to hide behind Luke's tall frame, which was to no avail.

"Y/n? What're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be out?" Jack asked as he made his way to your doorway.

"I uhh, came back early. Didn't feel too great" You lied through your teeth.

"How'd you come in? And when did you even come in?" Jack questioned you as he leaned against the door frame.

"Came in through the back door. Didn't wanna make too much noise to interrupt the movie" You slowly tried to push your door closed, but Jack was blocking the way.

Luke was stood there, watching the encounter unfold.

"Oh what's that Quinn? We need more popcorn? I'll grab some" He shouted down the stairs to remove himself from the extremely tense conversation he was witnessing.

“What’s wrong?” Jack's voice was low as he slowly pushed the door open and grabbed your hand.

“I’m fine, Jack. I just don’t feel good” You were on the verge of tears as you pulled yourself out of his hold.

“You look like you've been crying, Y/n/n... did someone say something to you?" Jack's anger slowly increasing at the thought of someone hurting your feelings.

"Nobody said anything. More so what you did. But I'll be fine, I'll get over it" Thankfully, he had back up enough to give you space to close the door, and his reflexes weren't fast enough to grab the door handle before you shut and locked it, leaving him on the other side of the door.

Your words left Jack extremely confused. More so what you did. What in the hell did he even do?

Once you had locked the door, you slid down the back of it as more tears spilled freely onto your cheeks. Why did you have to fall for your best friend?

Jack stomped down the stairs, confusion & frustration written all over his face as he threw himself onto the couch.

“What the hell did I even do?” He screamed into one of the cushions. Quinn & Luke exchange a look before ultimately deciding to tell him bits of the truth.

“You went on that date” Luke said quietly, praying that Jack has heard him the first time so he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. Fortunately for Luke, Jack lifted his head up as soon as the words left his mouth.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jack was more confused than before. He didn’t understand what was going on.

“How is it that we all see it except for you, dude? She’s in love with you. She’s been in love with you for years now, and you’ve never once noticed or acknowledged her feelings. It’s evident to everyone in our lives except for you. You leaving on that date today made her feel like shit” Quinn spoke.

“Well, it made her feel more like shit than she already did before. You neglected her all morning because you were on your phone and then when we all agreed to go on the boat, you bailed on us and she felt more forgotten than ever before” Luke added onto Quinn’s speech.

Jack sat there in shock. There’s no way that you, his best friend of 16 years, were in love with him. He couldn’t fathom the thought, but slowly the realization sank in and now he felt horrible for his behavior. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He never knew.

He didn’t say anything before he raced up the stairs and knocked on your door but received no response.

“Y/n please let me in. I want to talk to you. Please hear me out” Jack pleaded as he rested his ear against the door, listening closely in hopes of hearing movement on the other side.

Silence. All that could be heard was the sound of the fan circulating air throughout the room.

Quinn & Luke had followed him up the stairs and watched as Jack slowly fell to his knees infront of your door. They’d never seen him like this before.

“J, she needs some space right now. Let her get some rest and talk to her in the morning. It’s the least she deserves” Luke suggested as he placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

— the next morning —

You woke up to a massive migraine, probably from all the crying you did last night. You felt uneasy as you stood from your bed and made your way to the connected bathroom.

You knew you’d have to see him again. You couldn’t avoid him, hell it was his house.

You braced yourself for the day as you washed your face and changed into something more comfortable before heading downstairs for breakfast.

You overheard a conversation taking place as you silently made your way down the stairs, in hopes of not alerting anyone of your presence quite yet.

Just as you turned the corner and entered the kitchen, silence filled the room. You chose to not acknowledge it, just as Jack had not acknowledged your feelings for him.

You felt multiple pairs of eyes on you as you grabbed yourself a bowl to pour some cereal. You slowly carried your bowl to the dining room, where everyone was seated.

It was only then that you had noticed the extra eyes staring at you. Seated at the table included Quinn, Luke, Jack, Trevor, Cole & Nico. The latter 3 must’ve flown in early in the morning because they weren’t here last night when everything happened.

You softly wave at the 3 boys before placing your bowl on the table.

“Morning” you quietly said as you sat on the bench between Quinn & Luke, which was ironically as far away from Jack as possible.

Small talk is made and you barely speak unless you’re spoken to. You quietly converse with everyone except for the middle Hughes brother. He hasn’t said a single thing to you this morning except for stare at you occasionally when he thought you didn’t notice. Of course you did, you always noticed.

Breakfast finished & you kindly collected everyone’s dishes and headed towards the kitchen to clean them.

You stood infront of the sink on your own for about 5 minutes when you felt a presence behind you.

“Can we talk?” You knew that notice all too well. You placed the plate in the sink as you turned around slowly, resting the plane of your hands on the edge of the counter.

You took in his appearance for the first time since he left for his date yesterday afternoon. His eyes were swollen, much like yours, and his hands were fidgeting at the back of his neck.

“Sure” You simply spoke, not wanting to be the one to bring up the elephant in the room. Jack cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Could we maybe go outside? I’ll get Luke to do the dishes or something so we can talk in private” He suggested as you nodded your head.

Jack led the way to the backyard before holding the door open with a simple “After you”.

You sat on the couch next to the fire pit, leaving Jack to sit next to you.

You sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the calming breeze the morning had brought. That peace was interrupted when Jack cleared his throat and turned to face you.

“I want to start with an apology. I genuinely had no idea that you even felt neglected yesterday. I was a shit friend and I shouldn’t have ditched you for someone else. I know I messed up. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me til now to realize how you feel towards me. All this time I thought it was just you being friendly, I never knew you liked me. I was so confused by what you meant yesterday that the realization didn’t click until Luke & Quinn said it. I couldn’t believe the fact that I had been the one to hurt you and I will forever be sorry for that”

Jack looked into your eyes, and he swears he could see your heart shatter into a million pieces at every word. God, how he wishes he wasn’t the reason behind it.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were 6, Jack. I’ve spent years pining after you, only to watch you pine after every other girl on this planet. This summer was different though. You paid no mind to other girls and you treated me like I was yours, and I stupidly believed that things would change between us. That was until yesterday. You act all lovey with me one second and then suddenly I’m nonexistent the next” You watched the frown grow on his face as you spoke.

“I’ve never been in a relationship because I’ve been holding out hope for you, Jack. Hope for you to finally come to your senses and see that I’ve been here waiting for you this whole time, stupidly thinking that my chance will come” Jack stayed quiet as you let it all out.

“I’m in love with you, Jack. I have been for the longest time and I really shouldn’t be” You cried into the hands as he stared at you in silence.

“Y/n/n…” Jack was at a loss for words. He didn’t know you felt that strongly about him, or that you watched everything unfold from the sidelines of his life.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/n/n”

“It’s okay, Jack. I’ll be fine, I’ll get over it. I just don’t know if I handle anymore heartbreak” You sobbed as Jack brought you into his embrace, holding you in his arms.

Despite you feeling this hurricane of emotions, his arms still felt like home to you. He felt like home.

“I hope I’m not too late” He whispered softly, causing you to remove yourself from is hold, a look of confusion spread across your face.

“Huh?” You sniffled as you wiped your nose.

“I’ve been in love with you from the moment I met you. Not even, the second I saw you holding that little bear of yours as you walked into your new house, I knew you were someone special. Someone who would be the only consistent person in my life besides my family. I always thought you saw me as a friend and never anything more, hence all the failed relationships. I’ve tried to get over you so much since I thought you’d never return the feeling. I looked for you in other girls, but none of them were you, so they never lasted. You have been the only person I have truly wanted since we were 6, Y/n/n. I now know that you’ve felt the same this entire time, and I have somehow misread everything for 16 years. The timing of this is horrible and I’m afraid I may be too late, but please know I do love you, Y/n/n. I always have & I always will” Jack confessed as he held your hand in his.

You searched his eyes for some sign of this being a sick and twisted joke, a prank that would forever haunt you and ultimately be the end of your friendship with the boy.

But you found none of that. You found love & hope & sadness. He hoped that the love he had for you was enough to fill the hole of sadness that he had accidentally burned into your heart. He hoped that you would forgive him and give him a chance to redeem himself.

A shy smile appeared on your face before you removed your hands from his to wipe the tears on your face, and the tears that were slowly trickling down his.

“I love you too, J. You’ll always have a chance” A goofy smile took over your face as the boy brought you into a tight hug, holding you there for what felt like an eternity.

After who know how long, he finally pulled away and let you breathe.

“I’m so happy right now that I could kiss you, but I won’t solely because we just made up and I’m not trying to ruin my chances & lose you again”

“Oh shut up” You placed both hands on the sides of his face & pulled him for a kiss.

The world felt like it had stopped but like it was also spinning simultaneously. The butterflies you got in your stomach when his lips touched yours felt heavenly.

Jack, who was a little taken aback by the kiss, immediately kissed you back once he realized what was happening. One of his hands found its way to your face and the other at your hip.

You wish you could live in this moment forever, and you genuinely believed you could, that is until you heard cheering coming from behind you. You both pulled apart to see Quinn, Luke, Cole, Trevor & Nico all cheering from the patio.

“THEY FINALLY DID IT!!!” Trevor shouted as he jumped up and down.

“Hurt her again, Hughes & you’re gonna regret it” Nico said before making his way back inside the house. You looked back to Jack to see him gently caressing the back of your hand.

“Wouldn’t even think about it” he smiled as he pressed a kiss to your temples, holding you closer than ever before.

[mountsmase]

a/n: hello 🫶🏻 this is the long awaited part 2 of Missed You! I’ve had the concept for this sat in my drafts for ages but I finally got around to writing it and it feels like it took forever but it’s finally here 🤭 I feel like my writing has changed loads since I posted the first part and I really hope you enjoy this fic! Feedback is always appreciated 💛 (this can also be read as a stand alone x)

word count: 4.5k

genre: smut (+ a teeny bit of fluff)

———————

Missed This - MM7

(Missed You Part II)

“Still just us” Mason smiles as he follows you through to the kitchen/living area, finding the villa still empty like he hoped it would be.

You hop up onto the counter, dangling your legs over the side and watching as he gets a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water, taking a few sips before coming over to you.

“Thank you” you take the glass from him when he offers it, drinking the rest of the water before placing it to the side and spreading your legs for him when he moves to stand between them.

You’re currently on holiday with his family, staying in a villa big enough to accommodate all of you and you’re having the best time, but after a busy couple of weeks leading up to the trip, Mason has been craving some quality time with you. He organised for you to have a little date night and after an evening at the beach, swimming and watching the sun set, you’re glad to find his family are still out for the evening, allowing for a little more time alone with him.

His arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to the edge of the counter and you instinctively wrap your legs around his torso, leaning into him when he presses his lips against yours softly before dipping his head into your neck.

You relax into him when his warm lips brush over your skin, tilting your head to the side to allow him more access and he hums against you when you bring a hand to the back of his head, nails scratching over his scalp the way he loves.

“Mase” You sigh, feeling him suck over your most sensitive spot, nipping at the delicate skin before soothing over the sting with his tongue, “Please”

He pulls back slightly, raising a hand to brush your flowy shirt away from your shoulder before resuming his kisses, his path now unobstructed as he trails his lips down your throat and over your collar bone.

“What do you need bubba?” He murmurs, already knowing the answer but needing to here you say it.

“Y-you, please”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. “How about you head upstairs and start a shower? I’ll just pop the left overs into the fridge and I’ll be right behind you”

“Okay” you answer, voice barely above a whisper and he leaves a lingering kiss to your cheek before letting you hop down from the counter. He taps your bum, sending you a wink as you walk past him and towards the stairs.

Excited butterflies swarm in your tummy when you step into the bedroom, throwing your little bag towards the bed haphazardly as you kick your flip flops off before heading into the bathroom.

It’s not long until Mason is joining you, having only just removed your over shirt and shorts when you see him walk into the en-suite, closing the door behind himself and flicking the lock just in case before moving towards you.

His arms wrap around your waist as he steps up behind you, fingers brushing over your soft skin as you lean back into his body with a sigh. You drop your head back against his shoulder, tilting it slightly so that you can look up at him. Your eyes flicker from his freckles that you adore so much to the reddened patch of skin on the bridge of his nose before meeting his gaze.

His eyes are dark, swirling with an emotion that you don’t quite have enough time to make out because he’s leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, breaking you out of your little trace.

He keeps the kiss soft, just a simple brush of his lips over your own and then he’s pulling away again, scattering a couple of kisses against your jaw before nodding his head towards the mirror and you straighten up, facing forward when he speaks.

“Can’t believe I’ve had to watch you walk around in these pretty little bikinis all week and not be able to do anything about it” he tells you, lips right next to your ear, “you’ve made it so hard not to just pull you in here and fuck you senseless”

His gruff voice and dirty words have your thoughts spiralling. You’ve not had much time to be intimate together recently, just the occasional quickie here and there with busy schedules wearing you both out on the lead up to this holiday, and thinking back to the last couple of days, you’re impressed you’ve made it this far without giving into your temptations.

With all of his lingering gazes and those teasing touches when no one’s paying attention. The way he’s been driving you crazy without even trying, wearing nothing but swim shorts for the best part of the day with his sun kissed body brushing against yours whenever he’s close to you. The way he kissed you back at the beach and the silent promises of what’s to come next.

The feel of his fingertips moving against your waist snaps you from your brief train of thoughts, goosebumps erupting over your skin as he brushes them down your sides until he finds the thin material of your bikini.

“Do you have any idea,” his dark eyes meet yours in the reflection, “what you do to me when you wear this?”

He toys with the knots that hold your bottoms together, the flimsy material threatening to fall apart under his touch and you swallow nervously, that all too familiar look in his eyes telling you exactly what kind of mood he’s in.

“I don’t think I do,” You definitely do “Why don’t you show me?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head at your innocent act, but your facade soon falters when he takes a hold of your hips, pulling you one step back so that your body is flush with his. The closeness has you feeling more of him, his crotch now pressed against your lower back and you can feel his length straining through the material of his shorts.

You try your luck, wiggling your hips back against him and his eyes flutter closed, losing his composure for a moment before he quickly regains it and tightens his grip on your waist, halting your movements.

“Stand still” he murmurs, your tummy flip flopping at the tone of his voice and you have to stop yourself from repeating your actions, switching your focus to his hands that are still sat on your hips.

“As much as I love when you wear this, I’d prefer it off” he motions to the black fabric that’s still covering your body and you lift your arms, reaching to untie the knots but he’s quick in stopping you, moving your hands back to your sides and sending you a pointed look.

He tuts, “I thought I said stand still”

“Sorry”

“No you’re not” he fights back a smile, watching through the mirror as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and shake your head. “Keep them there”

You shiver when he grazes his fingertips back up the sides of your body, your eyes following his every move as he finds the strings of your bikini top and you feel it loosening when he pulls them undone. It drops to the floor, leaving your top half bare and you want to protest against the fact that he’s still fully clothed, but you think better of it, a quiet gasp escaping your lips when he slides a hand around your body.

He cups his palm over your boob, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and he smirks to himself when he feels the nub hardening under his touch, his other hand coming up to the neglected side and mirroring his actions.

You can tell that he’s not rushing, taking his time to love on you the way he pleases, and for a while, you let him. Relaxing into his touch as he continues teasing and pinching over your nipples, tracing patterns into the sensitive skin around them until you grow impatient and begin squirming against him in a silent plea for more.

His hands drift back down your waist, a certain warmth spreading through you as he unties the first of the bows on your bottoms, the second one coming undone soon after as he discards the material to the growing pile of clothes by your feet.

His eyes burn as they rake along your body, taking you in through the reflection, and your skin grows hot under his intense gaze, leaning back into his warmth when his arms circle your waist. He takes in every inch of you, every curve, every tan line, all of your little freckles and moles. To him, you’re perfect.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your shoulder “my gorgeous girl”

Your entire body lights up from his words, cheeks burning as he presses a few more kisses to your shoulder and steps away. You miss his touch immediately, pouting at him as he turns and starts the shower, making sure the temperature is right before coming back to you.

“Get in” his words are short, the instruction simple as he nods to the shower and you follow his request, stepping under the stream of water and watching through the glass as he quickly rids himself of his own clothes before stepping in behind you.

His lips are on yours instantly, swallowing your gasp as he backs you up against the cold tiled wall, one of his hands finds your hip whilst the other gravitates up to cup your cheek, holding you to him as you melt into the kiss.

He works his lips against yours, humming into the kiss when you reach up and thread your fingers into his hair, tugging on the short locks when he coaxes his tongue between your lips and brushes it against yours.

His kisses are intoxicating, robbing the oxygen from your lungs with every drag of his tongue over yours, overcoming your senses until all you know is him. He tastes sweet, like the strawberries that you shared earlier, and you find yourself trying to pull him even closer, one of your hands sliding up his tattooed arm and gripping his shoulder as the other continues to pull and tug at his hair.

His lips never falter as he nudges his knee against your own, your thighs separating automatically and you moan into the kiss when he presses his leg between yours. His warm thigh presses against your core, tingles shooting down your spine and you can’t stop the way your hips buck from the friction.

“Easy baby, I’ve got you” he coos, tightening his grip on your hip and helping to calm your actions, rocking you against his thigh at a steadier pace, “That’s it”

His hot lips leave yours, trailing kisses over your jaw and you tilt your head back, giving him more access when they wander down your throat, nipping and sucking over your damp skin. He ducks his head further, kissing down your chest and leaving a small love bite just above your nipple before taking the hardened nub between his lips.

Your back arches as you grind helplessly against his thigh, pleasure tingling through your entire body when your clit brushes against the firm muscle and the series of moans and whimpers that slip past your lips have his cock jumping against your hip.

When he suddenly steps away you let out a groan in protest, disliking the lack of contact, but your frustration is short lived when his hands wander to your waist to gently turn you around, the stream of water now hitting your chest as he faces you away from him.

With one squeeze of your hips, he has you leaning into him, your back flush to his chest as he slides his hands around to your front. They work over your chest, his warm palms cupping over your boobs as he pinches and tugs at your nipples before moving south, the gentle caress of his fingers over your tummy causing you to tense up in anticipation of his next actions.

“Relax for me Angel, going to make you feel so good I promise” he murmurs right next to your ear, his fingers brushing lazily over your mound until he feels you sink back into him.

“Good girl” his voice is raspy, the praise sending tingles straight to where you need him as his hand dips lower.

His fingers tease through your wet folds, your breath catching in your throat as he coats them in your juices before circling over your sensitive nub.

“So wet for me baby” he coos, “Been waiting for this all week, huh?”

You can only nod as he lightly pinches your clit between his thumb and fore finger, resting his chin against your shoulder so that he can gaze down at where his hand disappears between your thighs.

“Mase” You moan, his length twitching in response to the drawn out sound that slips past your lips when he eventually dips a finger between your warm folds, burying it to the knuckle before starting to fuck you slowly.

“God, Y/N, you’re so fucking tight” he teases, inserting another digit and you sigh deeply when he curls them again your walls, “Can’t wait to be inside of you baby”

“Yes Mase - fuck - keep going, please” you pant, your body melting back into his when he attaches his thumb to your clit, brushing over it in quick circles that match the pace of his fingers.

Your knees go weak but he’s quick in bringing his free arm up to steady you, wrapping it around your waist securely and when you clutch onto it he’s not even bothered by the slight sting of pain caused by your nails digging into his skin.

He’s unrelenting, alternating between pulsing his fingers inside of you and curling them to brush against that spot that has you has you seeing stars, his thumb never stopping as he works you towards your release.

“M-Mason” you choke out, head falling back against his shoulder and your eyes flutter closed as your moans become more and more desperate. When he feels your walls clenching around his fingers, he knows you’re getting close to your high.

“Are you gonna cum for me, bubba?”

You nod, unable to form other coherent words but when he nips at your earlobe in warning and slows his movements you stutter out, “Y-Yes, please”

With a growl of approval, he leans down, his lips latching back onto your neck and you hit your high when he suctions them over your sweet spot, pleasure shooting through your entire body as he works you through your orgasm until you’re whimpering from the sensitivity.

He removes his fingers from you slowly, soothing them over your folds to collect your wetness before bringing them up to his mouth. You watch him over your shoulder, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red when he hums around them, eyes fluttering closed when he gets a taste of you.

“Taste incredible baby” he murmurs, using the same hand to take your chin between his fingers, tilting your head slightly so that he can kiss you and you moan into his mouth when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He moves you both a little further under the water, arms wrapping tightly around your waist and he sways you softly as he gives you as long as you need to recover from your high.

“Feeling okay, bubs?” He whispers after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah, but I need you” You respond, wiggling your hips a little and he chuckles at your impatience.

“But you’ve already got me, Angel” He tells you, and you huff out a sigh, not liking his teasing.

“Need to feel you inside of me, please Mason”

“Needy girl” He tuts, and you’re prepared to start begging him but he doesn’t let you, wasting no more time before nudging you forward once again.

Pressing on your lower back, he prompts you to lean forward, your arms instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the wall as he nudges your legs apart slightly. His hand finds it’s home on your hip, massaging into your skin as the other wraps around the base of his cock, giving himself a few slow pumps.

“You ready, baby?” He hums, your heart fluttering at the simple question.

You nod, but that’s not enough for him. His hand comes down to leave a single slap to your bum and you jolt forward, teeth digging into your bottom lip to stop the moan that threatens to escape.

“You know I need to hear you say it”

“I’m ready, please Mase” You plead, just wanting to feel him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice as he lines himself up with your entrance, taking the time to brush his head over your clit before moving his hips forwards.

You moan simultaneously as he pushes into you slowly, his length filling you inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and the stretch is so sweet.

“Let me know when I can move, baby” he leans over you, scattering kisses over the top of your back whilst he gives you time to adjust to him, which you’re grateful for after a couple weeks of not having him like this, but it’s not long until you’re pushing your hips back against him.

“You can move, Mase” you whisper, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse of him behind you and the sight has your heart thudding in your chest.

His wet hair is messy on top of his head, droplets of water falling from the strands and landing on your lower back as he towers over you. He’s still wearing his chain, the thin silver metal that you brought him earlier in the week standing out against his tanned chest. His cheeks are flushed and the bridge of his nose is red, his eyes clouded over as he looks down at where your bodies meet.

A groan rumbles in his throat as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in, repeating that same action as he builds up to a steady rhythm. He keeps his pace slow at first, his hand tightening it’s grip on your hip and you’re sure there will be bruises there in the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care as he fucks into you.

“Fuck, baby” he grunts, moving his free hand to your other hip, “So fucking tight for me” he pants, every word just making you clench around him tighter.

“N-need more, faster please” you whine, pushing your hips back in time with his.

On any other day you would love this pace, and that’s not to say you don’t right now, but you’re feeling especially needy today, just wanting him to have his way with you and he does not disappoint.

Each of his thrusts are as powerful and unforgiving as the last, your hands sliding against the tiled wall from the force of his hips against yours as sounds of slapping skin echo around the shower, mixing with your moans and cries.

It makes your head spin. The way he fucks you at such an aggressive pace, yet with so much love and intensity. Worshipping every inch of your body with his hands and lips as he pounds into you with no sign of stopping. But you don’t want him to.

He moves a hand from your hip, sliding it up the front of your body before closing it around your throat and tilting your head backwards, pulling you up so that you’re stood with your back to his chest as he gently squeezes.

“Mase. Mason. Fuck, right there” The words barely make it past your lips, cut off by a cry when he gives a deep, hard thrust. “So cl-close already, Mase”

“Yeah Angel? Gonna cum around my cock?” He drawls, slowing his thrusts slightly. He’s dangerously close to his own orgasm, but he wants to hold out a little longer for you, not wanting this to be over quite yet.

“Yes, p-please, need it”

“Gonna turn you around Angel, need to see you when you cum” he tells you, and you nod eagerly.

He’s gentle in pulling out of you, trying to be quick but as careful as he can be as he turns you around to face him again and backs you up against the tiles. His warm palm slides up the back of your thigh, finding the curve of your bum and giving it a squeeze before hooking your leg around his waist.

One of his hands lands on the wall beside your head, steadying himself as he reaches down with the other and he lines himself back up with your entrance, pushing himself in and quickly working back up to a strong pace.

The new position has his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust, and you can feel every ridge of his length as he rocks his hips against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, desperately needing something to hold onto as he works you towards your high, one of his own falling around your waist to hold you against him.

“I love you” he growls, forehead resting against yours, “so fucking much”

“Fuck, I love you too” you sob, your eyes fluttering closed when he moves his hand from the wall and slides it between your bodies, his thumb easily finding your clit and brushing against the sensitive nub.

“Mason…”

“I know baby, I know. Taking me so well” He gasps, lips brushing over your cheek. “Such a fucking good girl for me”

Your mouths meet desperately, his tongue pushing through your already swollen lips as he swallows your cries, his thumb still rubbing light circles over your clit and he can tell by the way you’re fluttering around him that your orgasm is fast approaching.

“Mase, shit” you pant against his lips,

“I’m right there with you” he tells you, his voice low and thick, “Let go for me Angel, I’ve got you”

That’s all you need, his arm tightening around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him as your body goes limp against his. Your orgasm hits you with a cry of his name, his thrusts unrelenting as he chases his own high. It’s intense, your limbs turning to jelly as a wave of pleasure rolls through your entire body and you tremble against him as he works you through it.

He isn’t far behind you, the feeling of your walls hugging around him sending him tumbling towards his own orgasm and he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as he hits his high, his hips faltering as he thrusts through it before eventually coming to a complete stop.

He keeps himself buried inside of you for a while, head still nuzzled away in your neck with his arms wrapped tightly around you and you take a few moments to steady your heart beats and catch your breaths, coming down from your highs.

His lips brush over your temple when he eventually starts to pull out of you, soothing you with reassuring whispers when you whimper from the sensitivity and emptiness. He moves you both under the still hot stream of water, pulling you into his body and you collapse into his arms as he massages over your back and any inch of your skin that he can reach.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” He suddenly whispers, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the moment, and when you look up at him his eyes are already locked on yours, cheeks flushed and his brows furrowed, a tell tale sign that he’s concerned about something.

He knows deep down that he has nothing to worry about. You would of stopped him if it was too much and he’s pretty confident in himself that he knows your limits and would never let it get to that point, but he can’t help but want the verbal confirmation from you that he didn’t take it too far. It’s one of the many reasons why you love him. He can be an absolute beast, and you love it when he gets rough with you, but at the end of the day he’s still your Mason. Your soft, loving, wouldn’t hurt a fly Mason who you know is just trying to look out for you.

“Not at all” you reassure him, pushing up on your tiptoes to brush your lips over his and you swear you can see the relief wash over his face, his features relaxing again as he gazes down at you.

You stay in the shower for a little longer, cleaning yourself up and quickly washing your hair - with Mason’s help of course - before climbing out and getting ready for bed.

He helps you slip into one of his t-shirts and a fresh fair of panties, brushing through your hair which you only bother to towel dry before using the loo and climbing into bed. You watch from under the duvet as he pulls on some boxers and grabs your laptop, then slides under the covers next to you. He starts up Netflix, pressing play on a series that you’ve been watching and places the laptop on top of the sheets so that you can both see it before settling down beside you.

You tuck yourself into his side, laying over his half naked body with your head resting against his chest and he wraps his arm around your waist, attempting to pull you even closer to him and you happily melt into his warm embrace.

“Thank you for today” you whisper, tilting your head up to look at him and he meets your gaze with a soft smile.

“Did you like it?” He asks, a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice which you shut down straight away.

“I loved it, it was perfect”

You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbly jaw, but he wants more, his palm framing your cheek and pulling you closer so that he can touch his lips to yours. The kiss is softer than the others that you’ve shared throughout the evening, a lazy brush of his lips against your own that has you sinking into him.

“I love you, so much” you whisper when you eventually pull away, leaving one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling down on his chest.

“Love you too, night bubs”

“Night Mase”

His hand slides under the material of the t-shirt you’re wearing, tracing patterns into your soft skin and he feels you grow heavy against him not even two minuets later, falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat and he’s not far behind you, drifting off after one final brush of his lips to your forehead.

———————

a/n; I really hope you enjoyed! 💛 feedback is appreciated as always 🫶🏻

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,  Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Throat

steddie, getting together, aob, neck kink

Like, he gets it. Eddie knows that it’s borderline prude behavior to think this way. Steve was on the swim team for chrissakes, so it isn’t like he’s shy about his body.

But his neck is ALWAYS on display. Showing off those pretty moles, the hard lines of his ligaments, the prominence of his adam’s apple, the slight swell of his mating gland peeking over his shirt collar.

Eddie can’t help staring, but he tries his best to hide his glances.

Even on the days Steve wears collared shirts—and he mostly does, what with all the polos—it’s like he’s trying to draw attention to the parts of his neck that remain uncovered.

It especially doesn’t help that they’ve been dancing around each other for months, flirting openly.

Eddie only does when they’re with other people, an excuse to pass it off as a joke.

A way to protect his heart by convincing himself Steve is kidding, too. 

At least until he goes home, and in the darkness of his own room he lets his mind wander to the beauty of Steve’s throat.

He holds the sleep tee Steve borrowed the last time he crashed at the trailer because he was too faded to drive home, the earthy smell of weed mixing with his cherrywood scent and going right to Eddie’s head.

It takes less than a minute for him to come in his fist, the image of Steve presenting his throat for Eddie’s teeth spurring him on and filling his knot.

His face burns with shame as he reaches for tissues to clean the mess, then he drifts to sleep and dreams of traded bites.

Dreams of sweeter words whispered at his ear as Steve welcomes him into the hot clutch of his body.

He wakes up hard or sticky or both most days.

But now they’re hanging out, just the two of them since Robin finally got her shit together and has a date. He and Steve spent an hour reassuring her that everything would be fine and giving her tips. She just left to meet Chrissy at the Hawk for the movie portion of their date.

Steve is leaning back in his chair, staring up at Eddie with the softest hint of a smile. “Whatcha thinking ‘bout?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the alpha.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Nothing, um, not a thing.”

“Liar.”

He sputters, dropping into the chair next to Steve’s as he chokes. “I’m not. Steve-”

“Eddie.” Steve’s eyes are hard. Serious as he sits up and sensually drags his fingers across his collarbone. “I know you’ve been looking at me.” He shrugs out of his jacket.

Angles his chin to draw his eye along the line of his throat. “But I don’t think you know how I’ve been looking at you.”

Eddie chokes again, manages to squeak, “What?” as Steve gets to his feet. He’s sure his scent has gone bitter in his confusion.

“When you put your hair up,” Steve murmurs, deft fingers gathering Eddie’s brushed out curls to hold at the back of his head. “Then I get to look too, can smell you better.”

Swallowing hard, Eddie feels his throat bob, the motion drawing Steve’s dark eyes.

“Looking at you makes my teeth hurt,” Eddie whispers, breathing through his mouth and showing off his descended fangs. “You’re so fucking perfe—”

Everything moves so fast then: Steve drops into his lap, nose nuzzling his neck as he breathes deep. Moans, “Eddie, please.”

His mouth finds its way to Steve’s neck, sucks a hickey below his ear before their lips ever meet.

—

After that, Steve keeps his neck more covered. At least his mating gland for sure is hidden by his shirt collar.

It’s just for his alpha now.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

What about jealous reader for camp stevie 😏🤭

“Babe.”

You ignored him.

“Princess.” A hand found your chin, finger and thumb clasping at your jaw until you gave in and looked up from your book. Steve was grinning. “There she is.”

“Go away,” you protested, swatting at him. You didn’t mean it, not in the slightest. In fact, you very much wanted the opposite but you weren’t sure how to ask the boy to stay glued to your side without admitting the problem at hand. “You’re so annoying, god.”

Steve snorted, leaning down and pecking at your cheek despite your moody behaviour and his grin widened when you leaned into it. Most of the kids were down by the lake, a slow, warm Sunday allowed some staff the day off, two teams taking it in turns to supervise a camp wide swimming session before they could swap and spend the afternoon in the sun.

You were on your porch, curled in a bean bag chair stolen from Eddie’s music room, a scowl etched onto your face and you pretended to read some stupid romance novel Nancy had let you borrow. If you’d darted off alone because the charity worker who’d had a meeting with Hopper had been shamelessly flirting with your boyfriend, well. Nobody needed to know.

“Why’re you mad, huh?” Steve acted coy, manhandling you until he could squeeze onto the bean bag alongside you, pulling at you until you were draped over his lap.

“I’m not,” you lied. You’d been reading the same page for twenty minutes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Silence, just for a beat or two, long enough that you could hear the faint yells and laughs from the lake, the buzz of the insects that lingered in the shrubs.

“…So, Emily was telling me about this program she’s setting up for the—”

“Oh, it’s Emily, is it?” You snapped. Sarcastic and bitter and entirely petty. You couldn’t help it. “How nice of her to introduce herself only to you.”

Steve bit his lip, knowing better than to laugh, or fuck, even smile. So he pulled you closer instead, ignoring your huff when he yanked your book from your hand.

“You made me lose my place!” You intoned, still trying your best to act annoyed.

But Steve was nudging at your cheek with his nose, cajoling you into leaning into him. You turned, letting him catch your lips with his and you taste fresh lemonade, mint, his smile.

“Page seventy two,” he whispered against your lips. “You’ve been on the same one since I got here, babe.”

You shoved at him, groaning, before letting the facade slip because you were pulling him back, needy, possessives, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and grumbling some not so very nice things about charity worker Emily.

“She was just chatting,” Steve laughed but he wound his arms around your waist all the same, hands slipping up the sides of your staff shirt, thumbs rubbing a soothing touch over your ribs. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“S’not the point,” you complained and god, you sounded a little whiny. It made you cringe. “She was all over you! Even when you quite literally pointed to me and told her that I was your girlfriend. She didn’t even say hi.”

That part was true and it made Steve frown. She had touched his arm a lot. Laughing too hard and telling him he had really nice hair. Then you’d disappeared and Steve made excuses to leave too.

“You’re right,” Steve said. His voice was softer now, gentle, no more teasing. “That wasn’t cool of her. I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, nudging your way into his hold further. Your hand went to the nape of his neck, playing with the curls there. Your curls. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you mumbled. “It was all her. Emily.”

“Well, Emily’s leaving in an hour,” Steve smacked a kiss to your cheek. “Wanna ignore her until then and go make out somewhere we shouldn’t?”

It was too easy to say yes.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

College Rafe AU where he plays football and they win the big game. because we all saw THE GIF from ‘The other Zoey’ and needed a football au

Was I listening to The Alchemy when I wrote this? Absolutely. My only football knowledge comes from watching Taylor at the games and the smallest from TV shows...so don't take it too seriously. I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: possible inaccurate football stuff and Taylor references

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The February wind blew as you sat in the stands and watched the team finish practice. You usually were tutoring at this hour, but the person canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an hour to spare before your work shift. You hated when people made you waste your time. Going to your dorm would be pointless since your job was on campus, so you went on the football field to surprise Rafe.  

He ran across the field with the football, sweat dampening the collar of his gray tee shirt. You couldn’t help but worry about him getting cold. This Friday was the big championship game and, as the star player, Rafe couldn’t afford to get sick. No offense to the other players, but the team would lose without him.

Coach called the boys over and you watched Rafe taking off his helmet and wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt, flashing his abs. The few girls sitting lower in the stands were wetting their panties at the sight, dreaming impossible things. These abs were only yours to touch. 

Minutes passed, and then Coach blew his final whistle, calling the end of practice. You went down the stands and called out Rafe’s name, tearing his attention from his teammate’s. When his eyes found you, he changed direction and told his teammate he’d catch up with them later. 

‘’Shouldn’t you be tutoring that swim team jerk?’’ 

You tried to not look too annoyed as you explained the situation. ‘’He canceled on me two minutes before the lesson...’’ 

Rafe closed the last steps to you and pulled you in a loose hug, knowing you didn’t like it when he was hugging you with his sweaty body. You didn’t mind the sweat, it was the smell that lingered on your clothes that you didn’t like. One time, your co-worker asked why you smelled like a football locker room after a game… You’ve never been more embarrassed.

‘’I hope you’re charging him for the lesson. He made you waste your time waiting for him.’’ 

You wished you could do that, but that’s not how it worked. 

‘’How was practice?’’ you asked, changing the subject. ‘’You ready for Friday?’’ 

‘’Coach doubled our pre-practice run because Robbe showed up hungover.’’ Rafe groaned, his legs sore from the extra running. 

You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’It’s only Wednesday…’’ 

‘’Exactly. It’s the second time he shows up hungover this month. He better clean his act up before Friday or else Coach is gonna bench him. Just because his father gives big money to the school doesn’t mean he can do shit like that.’’ 

‘’Fucking entitled rich kids.’’

You scoffed. ‘’Sure, Mr. My-Father-Is-Ward-Cameron-And-Owns-An-Estate-Company.’’ 

Rafe rolled his eyes. ‘’Alright, alright.’’ A brisk of wind blew and he scrunched his nose, his cheeks red from the weather. You reached to touch it, and he leaned into the warmth of your palm. ‘’Mmh, that feels nice. Do you want to get pizza and watch a movies?’’ 

‘’Tempting offer, but I have to get going soon. I have work in twenty minutes.’’ 

You pouted and Rafe pulled you closer. 

‘’Fuck work, stay with me.’’ 

A laugh left your lips. ‘’I can’t do that. I’ll get fired.’’ 

On Friday, you met Rafe’s family in the stands. You had met Ward, Rose and Wheezie before, but never Sarah. She was graduating high school this year and hadn’t been able to make it to any of Rafe’s games. It was nice to finally meet her. 

‘’Ah, so you’re the lucky charm,’’ Sarah said, flashing you a smile. ‘’I’ve heard the team is on a winning streak since you and Rafe got together.’’ 

The lucky charm was a joke Rafe’s teammates made after noticing the team had been winning every time you attended. You thought it was only running around school, but apparently Sarah had heard about it. 

The game was close to begin — seven minutes left before kickoff. From high up in the stands, you watched Rafe bouncing on his feet on the sideline, the stress of the game turned into bursts of energy. Damn, did his ass look good in his tight pants. Beside him, Topper was talking to the coach and pointing at something on the field. Perhaps a tactic idea?

You jumped up when the scoreboard came to light and cheered loudly as both teams were welcomed on the field. The ambiance was unlike any of his past games. Players took their positions, adrenaline coursing through their veins and waiting for the referee to blow the whistle. 

As the game unfolded, your focus was on Rafe. He was running across the field, trying to catch the pass Topper made. He caught it, his fingers closing around it securely, but a beefy guy from the other team came from behind, driving him to the ground with a thunderous tackle. 

You winced at the sight. You hated the contact part of football. 

Soon enough, the second period was ending and the half-time began, the score 17-14 in favor of Rafe's team. Sarah and Rose went to the bathroom while Ward went to get drinks and a snack for Wheezie. 

‘’Do you think they’re going to win?’’ she asked, scooting closer to you. 

She had taken a quick liking to you, the girl who had taken her big brother’s heart. 

You took a sip of your drink. ‘’I don’t know. I hope so. Rafe worked hard this season.’’  

Wheezie nodded. ‘’Rafe knows how to play the game and he knows how to win. I’m confident we’ll win this one.’’ 

The third period had barely started when Rafe crossed the field, carrying the ball. He was running so fast and ducking the other players without losing his speed. You held your breath, sitting on the edge of your seat. As expected, someone from the opposing team went to intercept him, but Kelce saw him coming and tackled him, allowing Rafe to score another touchdown. 

‘’Touchdown, Rafe Cameron!’’ The speakers echoed around the field, causing most of the spectators to stand and yell simultaneously. 

You jumped in excitement, a proud smile lighting up your face. ‘’Yes, baby!’’ 

Later in the game, with only thirteen seconds left on the board in the fourth period, the teams were tied. 

A score of 21-21 flashed on the scoreboard. There wasn't much time left, but you’ve seen Rafe score in eight seconds.  

‘’Come on, Rafe, you can do it,’’ you said, although he couldn’t hear you. 

Beside you, Sarah was holding Wheezie’s hand, stressed. 

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the resumption of the game. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause as Rafe dashed across the field, evading defenders with lightning speed. With just three seconds left on the clock, he made a spectacular leap, soaring over the goal line to score the winning touchdown.

The crowd in the stands went wild. Rafe's teammates rushed towards him in a jubilant huddle, their cheers drowning out the roar of the crowd. In their excitement, they lifted him high above their heads, his helmet coming off in the process.

Wheezie jumped, loudly cheering for her brother. ‘’I told you he would win!’’ 

You took your jacket and headed down the stairs, Rafe’s family following behind as the game reporter declared the grand champions, his voice booming over the stadium speakers. 

A lot of people had the same idea, which caused the large field to get crowded quickly. It was difficult to see over the taller heads, but your lips curled into a grin when you saw him standing at the center of it all, with his coach and teammates around him, looking both exhausted and exhilarated. His hair was tousled, his face flushed from the exertion of the game, but there was a radiant smile on his lips as he basked in the glory of victory.

You called out his name and his eyes searched around the field, high on adrenaline. Once he saw you, he broke away from the ecstatic mob of his teammates and sprinted towards you, his eyes shining with excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, Rafe enveloped you in a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling and ignoring the sweat that was transferring to your clothes. 

‘’You did it! It was unbelievable,’’ you said, your voice filled with emotions. ‘’You’re the best, baby. The absolute best.’’

—

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All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever