#or end 'work' for the day and get out of the house or do something fun

[science-hoes]

Taste

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: FILTHY smut, lactation kink, unprotected sex, language, canon typical medical drama, mentions of addiction

Description: Robby is fighting nicotine withdrawals, but the reader has something sweeter to curb the cravings.

—

Robby sipped on the beer that Donnie had tossed him before leaving the usual post-shift hangout. He used to stay longer, maybe even have two beers, but now he had you and Eliza. That was much more rewarding after a grueling day in the Pitt.

Especially after today. Three kids ended up in his ER following a “chicken pox party.” They had been given aspirin and developed Reye’s syndrome, each being sent to the pediatric ICU after Robby evaluated them. What a surprise that anti-vax parents also didn’t know the contraindications of aspirin. The parents were sent with them, but not without a scathing lecture from the chief attending. The selfishness of those parents refusing to immunize their children bewildered him in general, but now that he had a baby girl waiting at home for him, who didn’t have a full immune system yet, it made his blood boil.

As he walked home, he could smell the intoxicatingly thick smell of cigarettes as he passed by strangers with the vice between their fingers. His eyes nearly rolled back at the aroma, wishing he could relieve his stress with a long drag. Just one, that’s all he would need. But cigarettes were seductive, and he could never have just one. Instead, he reached into the side pocket of his backpack and popped a piece of nicotine gum out of the aluminum packet. Not nearly enough of the drug compared to a cigarette, but it kept him clean.

Robby approached the small but beautiful house you had picked out together just a month ago. Only a few blocks from PTMC, making it an easy walk to and from work. That was the main selling point, along with the somewhat spacious backyard for Eliza to play in as she grew up. He juggled his keys, finding the new house key, and unlocked the door carefully.

“Hey, kid. I’m home.” He called out, but not too loud, just in case the baby was sleeping.

After there was no response, he shut the door quietly behind him. His backpack dropped to the floor, a physical metaphor for the burden that fell off his back the moment he smelled the warm vanilla scent of the candle you had been burning. Even while on maternity leave, you found time to make the new house feel welcoming.

Robby stepped out of his New Balance sneakers and padded across the hardwood floor to the living room. There he saw you on the couch, cradling Eliza in your arms, as she drifted off to sleep. The sight was truly beautiful. He couldn’t hide his smile even if he wanted to.

You looked up to him and smiled. “Hey.” You whispered.

He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his nose into your shoulder. A heavy exhale left his lungs while he watched his daughter. Eliza’s eyelids fluttered as she dreamed in her mother’s arms.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” Robby mumbled into the fabric of your shirt. His shirt, actually.

You tilted your head slightly until it rested against his. “Long day?”

“Mmhmm.” He murmured.

“Do you want to put Eliza down? Then we can talk about it?” You asked.

That was the routine in the Robinavitch household since Eliza was born three months ago. Robby would come home from his 12 hour shift, but the baby would already be asleep. So, you let him put her down in the crib, always taking a few minutes to absorb her snuggles and kiss her before letting her rest until she woke up in the middle of the night. He would always get her before you could register her cries, just for the chance to see her while she was awake.

Robby sighed heavily and shook his head reluctantly. “No. We had some kids come in today with Reye’s syndrome from chicken pox. I don’t want to touch her right now just in case.” He answered, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

You turned your head slightly to press a kiss to his temple. “Okay. Let me put her down then.” You offered.

Robby didn’t answer but let go of your waist. As you slowly made your way to the nursery, he couldn’t help but watch the dancing flame coming from the candle you had lit. Almost taunting him. The same tiny burst of light that used to burn his tobacco for him. He rubbed his eyes to alleviate his thoughts, jaw faithfully chewing the gum that was supposed to be curbing his desire.

You walked back into the room and noticed his distress. “What’s wrong, love?” You asked as you sank in the couch next to him.

Robby’s hands moved from his eyes to scratch his beard. “You know it’s days like this that I really crave a fucking cigarette.” He muttered.

Your hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, fingertips kneading into the wrinkles there. “You don’t want to break your clean streak. Is the gum not helping anymore?” You asked.

He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes, indulging in the comforting movements. “I’m going through a pack a day.” He admitted.

“What about Zyns? That’s what Langdon uses.” You suggested.

He huffed and opened his eyes just to roll them. “Yeah, because he’s the poster child for making good drug choices.”

Your eyes narrowed, massaging hands stopped. “Michael.”

Robby scrunched his face at the use of his first name and nodded. “Sorry, that was mean.” He confessed. He held his hands in front of him, watching the way they trembled. “I’ve gotta do something. I’m fucking shaking. I can barely run a simple stitch. This plus the caffeine…it’s getting to be too much.”

After his apology, your nails began to scratch the freshly buzzed hairline at the base of his neck. “Maybe it’s time for one of those nicotine nasal sprays?” You offered.

He just nodded in agreement, leaning back into your touch. He would have fallen asleep right there on the couch like that, with your hand in his hair, but your tiny moans of discomfort pulled him back to reality. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked, sitting up a bit.

You pressed your hands to your chest, pushing against your breasts to relieve some kind of pressure. “I’m gonna have to pump again.” You grunted.

Robby put his hand on your back as you shifted uncomfortably. “How many times today?” He questioned.

“Eight.” You admitted.

His brow furrowed with slight concern. “Eight?”

You nodded. “I’m gonna have to start taking some of the frozen milk to a bank. We don’t have enough room in the freezer for anymore.”

Robby watched you for a moment, gears in that genius brain of his turning, jaw grinding on the nicotine gum. Without a word, he got up and walked to the kitchen. You heard him spit the gum out in the trashcan before he returned. He shrugged of his navy hoodie and tossed it on the ground. He sank onto the couch again, legs sprawling naturally, and patted his thigh.

“Come here.” He ordered.

You watched him with skeptical eyes, but followed his lead as he guided your legs until you straddled him.

“Robby, I need to-“

“I’m gonna handle it.” He cut you off.

Before you could answer, he’d pulled that baggy old shirt of his off your upper body, leaving you in nothing but your pajama shorts and maternity bra. His coarse hands ran across the luxuriously smooth skin of your waist, thumbs brushing against your shriveling stretch marks from pregnancy.

Your cheeks reddened as you realized his intentions. “Oh.” Was all you could say.

His fingers trailed across your skin until they reached behind you, unclasping your bra. The silky straps slid down your shoulders, and you tossed the bra behind you. Robby groaned unconsciously as your breasts dropped to your chest and a smirk played at his lips.

“What immunoglobulin is found in breast milk?” He asked.

Your eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. You grabbed fistfuls of his black scrub top, pulling him forward. “Don’t you dare quiz me right now.” You hissed.

Robby’s smirk turned into a devilish grin, and those brown eyes darkened with blown pupils. “I’m your attending. It’s my job. Plus you have boards coming up soon.” He replied.

Your glare could have sliced through marble, but your husband was a force to be reckoned with. “Breastfeeding isn’t on the board exam.” You grumbled.

He chuckled and winked at you, that fucking charming man. “It could be.” He teased.

Your breathing was becoming labored as the fullness in your chest increased. “Michael Robinavitch, if you do not help me, I will report you to the Board for sharing unauthorized board exam content.” You threatened.

But he knew your threats were empty and driven by madness, and that diabolical grin remained on his face, smile wrinkles deepening around his eyes. He tilted his chin up to where his lips ghosted against yours. “I would answer the question if I were you.”

His fingers began to trace your shoulders, moving down but not close enough. You shoved him back against the couch, his hospital badge clacking against his chest. “IgA.” You finally answered through clenched teeth.

“Good girl.”

Robby’s large, freckled hands moved to your engorged breasts, massaging them gently. The sound that left your throat was animalistic. You grasped his forearms, trying to guide him to what you needed.

“What is the sympathetic innervation of the myoepithelial cells in breast tissue?” His voice was unwavering.

Your face scrunched as the fullness began to become overbearing. “Robby…” You growled.

His thumbs hovered above your aching nipples. “Come on, pretty girl.” He beckoned.

You struggled to sort through your medical education as his hands kneaded into your chest. “T1 through T5.” You responded.

Robby chuckled and moved his lips to your breast, his beard adding a rough sensation. “Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed, beginning to kiss your skin.

His fingers began to tweak your nipples, eliciting a moan of painful pleasure from you. Your hips rocked once against his absentmindedly. “Michael, please.” You begged, grabbing the back of his head to guide him.

Robby paused all of his ministrations to look up at you with those big brown eyes, glistening in the dark. “Last question.” He mumbled against your breasts. “What hormone initiates the let-down reflex?”

Your chest heaved in anticipation, and your grip on the back of his head tightened. “Oxytocin.” You answered like your life fucking depended on it.

He smiled and wrapped his lips around one of your hard nipples. Your mouth dropped open as he suckled gently and kept his fingers on your other breast. His free hand moved to your lower pack, guiding your hips to rock against his. You could feel his hardness teasing against your clothed pussy as you grinded.

Then that familiar pins and needles sensation rushed through your chest. You shuddered as the let down reflex ran its course. Robby hummed against your breast as the first drops of milk graced his suckling tongue. Liquid pearls slowly dribbled down his hand that tweaked at the other nipple. The rush of oxytocin seeped through your whole body, and you finally relaxed in your husband’s embrace.

Your fingers massaged the back of his neck like you had earlier, rewarding him for his assistance. His rapid, small suckles began to turn into longer, deeper pulls as the flow became continuous. Your other breast began to leak freely, a small river of cream streaking down his hairy forearm. He breathed loudly through his nose in between swallows, indulging his new favorite dessert.

“What does it taste like?” You breathed, enamored by the sight before you.

Robby took a long drag at your nipple before sitting up and pressing his mouth against yours without a word, pouring your own nectar onto your tongue, the rest spilling in between your chins. It was sweeter than you expected, and you understood why he hadn’t come up for air in several minutes.

“Jesus, fuck, I’d swallow poison if it tasted like you.” He mumbled against your lips.

You pulled away to look at him. The beads of white meshed into his beard, peppering it further, and his lips were swollen from suction. Your husband had never looked so viscerally attractive. You reached at his waist and hiked up his scrub top, tossing it behind you.

“Can I please ride you?” You asked, desperately chasing your oxytocin high.

Robby chuckled and leaned back against the couch for a moment to shift out of his scrub bottoms and boxers. “Can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” He teased.

You giggled and shimmied out of your pajama shorts that had a wet stain already. Without a moment of hesitation, you sank down on his massive cock, the familiar stretch that still made your back arch. He took advantage and latched onto your nipple again, groaning at your tightness before he began to suck.

You bounced on his hips, adding to the suction patterns he pulled on your breast. He continued to tug at the other nipple, the milk spraying across his bare chest, scratching the itch in your sensory neurons. His thrusts grew stronger, and your release drew closer.

“Robby, I’m gonna-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Robby fisted both of your breasts, squeezed them together, and enveloped both nipples in his mouth. You held back a scream as he swallowed hard around them, determined to get every last drop.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the white hot explosion of your climax shot across your nervous system. Your body went limp, draping your arms around his shoulders. His grunts became more frequent as his hip thrusts faltered at the feeling of your pulsing walls. The only time his mouth let go of your breasts was to grunt as he came. You rocked gently, working him through his orgasm, pulling every last bit of cum he had to offer.

Robby slouched back against the couch, and you enjoyed the view. His soft upper body glistening with sweat and tributaries of milk. His face and ears flushed with exertion. His lips swollen from half an hour of suckling. The pearls of milk still nestled into his beard.

“You’re hot.” You teased, resting your hands on his biceps, tracing his tattoos.

He let out a strangled chuckle as he caught his breath, and a content smile played on his lips. “You keep me young, kid. You know that?” He asked.

You smiled and leaned to give him a sweet, soft kiss on his puffed lips. “Good. We need you around for a long time.” You replied.

Robby lifted his hand to caress your face. “I’m gonna be. Not gonna miss a second.” He assured you.

You raised an eyebrow. “That means no relapsing on cigarettes.” You lectured.

He sighed and nodded. “I know.” He replied, looking down at his forearms that were still streaked with milk. “But I think I found something to distract from the cravings.” He winked at you as he dragged his tongue across his veiny forearm up to his wrist, gathering every last drop.

You couldn’t help but blush through your laugh. Carefully, you lifted off his lap and pulled your pajama shorts back on. You used the old t-shirt that you had been wearing to clean up the mess on your chest and his.

“Hey! That’s my shirt.” Robby complained as you wiped his upper body.

You shook your head. “It’s our shirt.”

He rolled his eyes and hoisted his boxers and scrub pants back on. Just as he was about to make a snarky comment, tiny cries came from the baby monitor that sat on the table next to the couch.

You smiled slightly. “Go see our girl. She’s missed you.” You said.

He hesitated for a moment. “I saw those kids today.” He said.

“You don’t have your scrub top on. Use the hand sanitizer next to the changing table. You’ll be alright, doc.” You replied.

Robby chuckled and headed to the nursery. Within seconds, the crying stopped, and you heard his smooth voice singing a Hebrew lullaby to Eliza. He reentered the living room with your baby girl tucked into his elbow like a football. She was so tiny compared to his large frame. You walked over to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Eliza’s big brown eyes stared at her father’s identical ones.

“Did you have a good day with Mommy?” He cooed.

She reached for the sparkling pendant at his neck, and he held her closer to put it in her grasp. Her tiny fingers wrapped around the Star, pulling it to her mouth.

“She’s gonna start using that to teeth pretty soon.” You mused.

He smiled. “I know. She’s getting so big.”

You felt an unusual ache in your heart. “I know. I hate it.” You admitted.

“I’ll stay up with her a little longer. You get some sleep. You’ve been working hard today.” He offered, pressing a kiss to your head.

You stifled a laugh. “You’re the one who worked a 12 hour shift.” You reminded him.

Robby met your gaze, his eyes shining in the living room glow. “You’re with our daughter all day. Taking care of her. Loving her. Making our new house a home.” He leaned down to kiss you sincerely. “You’re giving me the world, kid. That deserves some rest.”

You hugged your husband tightly, tears stinging your eyes. “Thank you.” You whispered.

“Thank you.” He repeated. “Now, go. I’ve got our girl.” He assured.

You kissed Eliza goodnight before walking to the bedroom. As you neared the room, you heard Robby’s voice carrying through the hallways as he sang his Hebrew lullaby again.

—

A/N: Thank y’all for humoring my pathetic Dr. Robby thoughts. As soon as I came up with this idea, I couldn’t stop writing until it was done. I can’t wait to write some more smut for him.

[szatears]

comfort zone, modernau!smoke.

summary: just smoke spoiling his girl.

pairing: modernau!smoke x fem!black reader

warnings: some descriptions of reader, cunnilingus, also munch!smoke because we all deserve it.

notes: this sinners brainrot will not leave me alone and i love it !!! also we hit 100 followers after just a couple days... i love you all so bad 🫶🏾

It was around 6 in the evening when Smoke came home to you. He'd been away in Atlanta for two days, a business trip as usual. You knew what he did, the type of people he worked with and what that came with. You didn't really care because at the end of the day, the most important thing to you was your relationship with him.

Everyone knew him as Smoke, but to you he was just Elijah. As soon as he walked through the huge doors to your shared home, he stopped being Smoke and Elijah came out instead.

Whenever he was away, you'd usually occupy yourself with something just fine. Going out with your girls, catching up on your own work, visiting family and so on. Anything to help take missing him off of your mind.

Today, as you waited for Smoke to come back, you decided to get a manicure. A little touch up on your nails could never hurt. It didn't take too long either, a half hour drive there and back in just under two hours. God, did you love your nail tech.

You had them done blue, Smoke's favourite colour on you.

You lounged around the house waiting for him, your only other companion being the small rottweiler puppy that Smoke had gifted to you. He whined as you patted him, rolling over next to you.

"I know, baby, daddy's coming home soon." You frowned, scratching behind his floppy ears.

The sound of keys turning in the door had those floppy ears turning straight real quick. Before you could even turn your head to the door, your puppy was already there, scratching at the back of it whilst Smoke attempted to get through.

"Man, move───" he muttered, trying to get through with a bunch of shopping bags and a puppy nipping at his legs.

You smiled, a part of you exhaling a sigh of relief that he'd come back to you in one piece.

It was never easy to see Smoke leave, the thought of him never coming back to you was always looming over your head. But just like he always reassured you he would, he came back seemingly fine.

You walked towards them, Smoke's facial features gradually relaxing at the sight of you. "Hi," you spoke smoothly, your arms around his neck as you pulled his face towards yours, kissing his lips.

You took a moment to run your hands over his body, the black compression shirt that he wire doing wonders for him. It always drove you crazy.

"Hey, baby," he kissed you back, dropping the bags gently on the floor giving his hands space to grab at your ass. "You been good?"

"Mhm," you answered, letting your nails scratch gently at the back of his neck. That always did the trick. You looked down at the puppy by your feet, breaking away to pick him up. He was getting heavier as each day went by.

You held him up to Smoke's face. "Say hi to your son, Elijah."

"That ugly ass thing ain't my son," he kissed his teeth, waving you off as he started moving the bags into the living room.

Laughing, you carried your puppy to its playpen, giving you snd Smoke some peace of mind for now.

You came back to find him emptying his pocket contents on the coffee table: gun, wallet, keys, and stacks of money. Instead of putting the money on the table with the rest of his stuff, he walked over to you.

He pulled the strap of the tank top that you wore, using it to tuck the money into your bra.

"What's this for?" you smiled, looking up at him. He was always giving you money randomly, various amounts for various reasons.

"For looking pretty," he kissed your cheek. "That's for you too," he nodded his head towards all the shopping bags that he brought in.

Your eyes followed to the bags, feeling so much appreciation overwhelm you. Smoke's love languages were most definitely gift giving and acts of service; he would use any and every opportunity to spoil you, but the minute you bought anything for him, he'd be telling you off for spending your money on him.

"You didn't have to," you pouted, sitting on his lap as you kissed all over his face. "You spoil me too much, I don't even have space for it all."

"I don't spoil you enough," He mumbled, kissing you back. "Come on, do your lil' try on thing you always do for me." He tapped the back of your thigh.

You giggled, "You mean a haul?"

"Yeah, that."

And that you did. Smoke had gotten you bags, clothes, lingerie, new makeup products... things you already had but according to him, could never have enough of.

You tried on each item, except for the lingerie. You said you wanted to surprise him with it another day, and he wasn't complaining.

At the end of your haul, Smoke helped you put everything away, making a comment to himself about having to expand your walk in wardrobe.

Now you two lay on the bed, cuddled up as a random show was on the TV. You loved moments like these, when he was yours. Not the rough Smoke that everyone else knew him as, but as your soft and loving boyfriend.

"You good?" Smoke stopped rubbing his hand gently on your body when he noticed you let out a sigh.

"I'm more than good," you smiled dreamily, like you were drunk just off of his affection.

He took your word for it, lifting your body onto his. His hands wrapped around your lower back whilst your chin rested on his chest, looking right at him.

"You know I love you, right?" He said.

"Yeah. I love you too."

Smoke smiled, his large hands squeezing at your ass. "And I love this ass too."

"You can never stay serious, can you?" You laughed, reaching back to move his hands. Instead, he flipped the two of you so he was now on too, your hands pinned on either side of your head.

"You know damn well how serious I can be."

And that you did. There was only a handful of times when Smoke had gotten serious with you, times when he was more Smoke than Elijah with you. One of the things he loved most about you was that you brought out the side of him that didn't immediately resort to violence, the one that still had hope that he could be loved like he once thought.

He leaned down, kissing you gently, softly. You kissed him back, your hand pulling his head even closer, nails grazing over his low cut. He caught a flash of blue as he pulled back from the kiss, removing a hand from your side to look at your hand properly.

"Look at you repping me," he teased you, running his fingers over your nails.

"Had to let 'em know," you shrugged.

"Damn straight," he mumbled against your lips. He could never get enough of you, you were like a drug to him.

He kissed from your lips down your neck, to your collarbone, nipping and sucking as he went. He loved marking you, you don't know when it started but you knew sure as hell it wasn't gonna stop.

Smoke let his runs run all over you, until you tugged at his shirt, frowning. "Why you poutin', baby?" He tilted his head, knowing the answer but wanting to drag it out of you.

"Take it off," you said.

"Yes ma'am."

As he pulled his shirt off, you watched on, smiling at your man's toned body. You let your hands rake over his abs as he leaned back down to you. "Your turn," he tapped your side.

You sat up a bit, pulling down the straps of your tank top before taking it off, no bra underneath. Smoke wasted no time, latching onto your breasts before you could even lay back down.

You let out a loud moan, like you haven't felt his touch in ages. Whilst he worked on your breasts, sucking and biting, he let his hand slide inside the shorts you wore, grazing over your clothed pussy. He could feel how wet you were just from a few touches.

"Fat ma missed me, huh?" he joked. You kissed your teeth, groaning as he rubbed gently.

"Elijah... do something," you moaned.

"Aight, baby, lift up for me." he took your shorts off when you lifted your hips, along with your panties. He settled in between your legs, lying down so he was face to face with your seeping pussy. He looked at you, knowing he was absolutely about to devour you.

The first lick had you throwing your head back, your thighs immediately closing around Smoke's head. If he could've died right then, he would've died a very happy man.

As he licked up and down, sucking your clit, you writhed underneath him, struggling to stay still with how he was doing you.

He gripped your hips, forcing you to stay in one spot. "If you keep moving, I'ma stop." he mumbled with his lips still on you, sending vibrations through your body.

You nodded, knowing he was dead serious about that. One thing about sex with Smoke? The overstimulation was real.

He continued to lick bold stripes up and down your fold, kissing at deeply as he went. You could feel that coil deep in you about to snap, your whimpers and moans getting louder as Smoke used his fingers to rub your clit.

"Fuck, baby, I'm almost─── Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" you moaned as you came, but Smoke still didn't let up, lapping up all your juices as you rode out your high.

You panted, trying to push his head away, already feeling like you could tap out. But when he looked at you, his moustache and goatee coated in your cum, you knew this was only the start.

"You boutta tap out on me? Hm?" he asked.

You shook your head, guiding him back to your folds. You felt his smirk on you, his lips going back to doing what they did best.

You always did love when he came home to you.

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞 — 𝐚.𝐜.

summary: you take care of lena, clean up around the house, and always leave dinner for him when he gets home late. and among constant and never-ending change, you are andrew's northern star.

pairing: andrew cody x babysitter!reader

word count: 13.3k

warnings: read carefully! age-gap dynamics, reader is said to have recently graduated college, i basically ignore anything from the show that wouldn't make sense in my perfect little world. smut—arm humping, oral sex, penetration, the tiniest bit of breeding if you squint real hard.

author's note: and here she is. also known as shea wants to write about doing things to pope's arms.

you used to complain if someone called you their nanny. you’re just a babysitter. this would not—could not—be your full time job. it’s just so demanding. you love the kids you take care of but the idea of saying that you’re a nanny makes it a little more real. like you wouldn’t be able to get out of this, despite how hard you’re trying.

you just don’t want to be a babysitter forever. 

but the first time mister cody introduces you as lena’s nanny, you don’t think you mind it all that much. 

babysitters are temporary—girls in high school looking for money to pay for coffee and nail appointments, covering date-nights and overtime at the office.

nannies are permanent—it’s a career. you’re responsible for the kid pretty much twenty-four hours a day. kids with nannies are rich, mom and dad too busy at work to be at home. from the little you deduced, nannies buy groceries and make three meals. they go to doctor’s appointments and organize play-dates with other nannies. 

you do some of those things for lena. her uncle tries to take her and pick her up from school when he can, and when he calls to tell you that he won’t be able to make it every now and then, he sounds so sorry about it, you don’t know what you can do to reassure him that it’s okay. lena’s young, she doesn’t care about stuff like that so deeply. and she likes you, which helps matters a lot.

you had finished the last few classes you needed to graduate a couple months ago. before that, you’d have to tell mister cody no, i’m sorry occasionally, something that you really didn’t like doing. he seemed like he had enough going on without the babysitter cancelling.

and besides, after you had told him that your classes were done, you were supposed to tell him that you would be looking for a real job, something with your degree, that he should start looking for a real nanny for lena. you were supposed to politely, yet firmly allude to how you’d been scrambling with classes, finishing assignments in the car in between picking up his niece and after she’d fallen asleep at night. how you missed an important lecture because the pediatrician’s office was running behind an hour and lena’s grandmother wasn’t available to take her.

instead, the second you had met his eyes (which were terribly green and incredibly sad), you had folded, and told him you’d be available whenever he needed. and you thought maybe that would garner you a smile—and you’d been wrong. he had looked your way for about five seconds, muttered thank you, and walked away. 

and maybe if you could resist those terribly green and incredibly sad eyes, you wouldn’t have wound up as a full-time nanny. life could always be worse—that’s the motto you’ve grown up with. there are so many worse things in oceanside than spending every day in a pretty house by the beach and taking care of a quiet little girl. 

if not anything else, you could start making payments on your student loans, if you wanted. mister cody paid you in cash, and he paid you way too much, probably his way of apologizing for how much you had stepped up in the last couple months. but again, you didn’t really mind anymore. maybe if it was another family, you would care more about finding a real job.

but you like lena. you like her uncle, too, you think, as much as you can like a man who is virtually silent and stares at you like he’s boring into your soul when you’re making dinner. you like him because he’s good with her, you can always tell he’s trying his absolute best, his hardest with her. (it doesn’t help that he’s cute—cute in the way that strays are, like you wish you could fix everything wrong with him and reassure him that he’s doing enough, and tell him to stop staring and just come tell you what he’s thinking instead.) 

the first couple months were the hardest. lena wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. she hated school, hated all the things she had still cared for when her dad was alive. you’d tried bribing her with trips to the beach, the playground, ice cream with extra fudge and sprinkles. all the things that kids liked. but she wasn’t just a normal kid—and it seemed that you and her uncle were the only ones who understood this. 

you didn’t realize you had such a maternal instinct inside of you. maybe it’s because the other kids you’d babysat in your life had been brats, sticky handed toddlers going through the terrible twos and making your life hell while you were trying to pass your classes. lena is the opposite. 

she’s the saddest child you’ve ever met, and you know nothing that you or her uncle do is going to fix it overnight.

but progress comes in stages. the first step had been getting her to want to eat again. you’d sat on the couch next to her, watching a nature documentary that her uncle had probably left playing on the tv.

(he is a whole other can of worms—he doesn’t sleep or eat that much either, and one time you had come in really early to get some work done before getting her to school. he’d been awake, watching something just like this, at five-thirty in the morning. and when you’d asked him when he’d gotten up, he had shrugged, and murmured something that sounded suspiciously close to i don’t sleep. that’s your next mission, because you can only focus on one at a time.)

“you hungry, sweetie?” you didn’t want to be pushy. she wouldn’t like that, would only retreat further into herself. you wanted her to come to you when she was ready to eat. lena shook her head and focused back on the television. “okay. well, if you get hungry later, i’ll eat with you.”

lena says okay in her quiet voice, holding onto a stuffed animal and staring ahead. you wait a couple of hours—there’s always something to do in the house. you clean up, wiping counters and sweeping while she stays on the couch. you check in every now and then to make sure she didn’t fall asleep. 

and then, thirty minutes before her new bedtime, she comes and sits on the chair by the dining table while you’re wiping it down.

“can we get pizza?” she asks, and you nod right away.

“of course we can. what kind do you want?”

another thirty minutes later, the pizza’s there, and you’re both eating slices of pepperoni and spinach. you’ve formulated your plan for the rest of the night—her uncle’s still not home, which means you can crash on the couch or stay awake. you decide to stay awake, since there’s no follow up text from him. if he wasn’t going to come home tonight, you’d expect the standard, concise message; won’t be back tonight. is lena okay? 

and you’re stupid, because you think it’s sweet that he always asks if she’s okay. like you wouldn’t call him the second something went wrong, like he doesn’t believe that you’d trust him with that information before anyone else. but there’s no texts tonight from the contact you’d saved as andrew cody (lena’s uncle). 

lena’s finishing her last slice and you’re cleaning up when you hear it—the rumble of his truck pulling up to the house. then a minute later, footsteps and the front door opening.

“what’s all this?” he asks, and you have to remember to find the words. 

you don’t know why that happens when he comes around—you’re usually great with dads. maybe it’s because he looks tired, more tired than usual, at least. his copper curls are messed up, like he’s been running a hand through his hair all night. lena’s uncle is always stiff, but it seems worse today, somehow.

(another thought seeps in, an uninvited guest in your mind, about how you’d really like to take care of him. he just needs some sleep, a little peace of mind. that’s it. you’re still trying to figure out the best way to give it to him.)

“we got pizza, uncle pope,” lena fills in, setting down the last piece of crust you knew she wouldn’t finish. 

“there should be enough for you,” you add, smiling at him. he doesn’t smile back, but you’re used to that at this point. and you can tell what’s about to come. “lena, can you go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on for me?” 

she nods and climbs off the chair, running into her room. 

“it’s past her bedtime,” he starts, taking a few steps closer to you. “and pizza for dinner-”

you interrupt him, even though you probably shouldn’t. you close up the box, setting it on the island and you go back to wipe the table.

“she’s not eating, mister cody,” you put the paper towel down, getting your bearings in order to face him, make the dreaded, never-ending eye-contact. “when kids don’t eat you have to meet them halfway. i thought this was better than her going to bed without eating at all.” 

he keeps looking at you. you think you should be a little nervous, but you don’t get like that anymore. flustered, sure, but not nervous—lena’s uncle is just kind of a starer, and you’ve gotten used to it by now. 

“i’m sorry. i’ll run it by you next time, i promise. i just wanted her to eat something.” he’s silent for a while, like he’s processing what you said. 

“yeah. okay. thanks.” 

you smile again, a small one. the kitchen’s clean now, or at least as clean as you can get it. you’re sure that when you’re back in the morning, it’ll be spotless, which you can only assume is one of mister cody’s nocturnal activities. you have a routine before leaving—you say goodnight to lena, make sure you didn’t leave anything behind, and tell her uncle you’ll see him in the morning.

he doesn’t normally say anything back, maybe a grunt of acknowledgement. so you’re surprised tonight, when you grab your bag and your keys and hear—

“have a good night.” 

“you too, mister cody.” 

+

it took time, but you’ve gotten her schedule better. she eats dinner with you now, whatever semi-healthy thing you can think of with the stuff in the pantry and the groceries you picked up while she’s at school. her uncle leaves money for that sort of thing—an envelope filled with hundred dollar bills. it’s labeled lena’s babysitter in stiff, neat handwriting and he told you to use it for copays and ice-cream and anything else that lena needs. but it feels wrong to use his money when he already overpays you, so you just use your own. 

you thought he might not have noticed that the envelope isn’t getting any thinner, until one morning when you arrive and see him counting the notes in it with his head down. now you’re the one staring—watching his arm flex and the muscles move as he flips through the bills. he wears the same kind of shirts every day, short sleeve button-ups, and every day, you are subject to watch his forearms while he does whatever he does. it’s a cruel and unusual punishment.

the worst had been when you needed a box down from the cabinet, the one with the muffin tins and cookie cutters. he had appeared behind you and taken it down for you in seconds, carrying it to the kitchen for you. you had been staring then too, uncomfortable and slack-jawed and wondering why his arms had your mouth dry. (you know the answer, it’s just better to live in denial, you think.)

“good morning, mister cody.” you set your bag down on the sofa, heading inside to get started on breakfast. you open the fridge, taking out a carton of eggs and orange juice and avoiding looking right at him. you don’t need to be flustered before seven-thirty am.

“you haven’t been using this money,” he states. you wish you could figure out what his tone means—there’s no inflections, no emotion simmering behind the words. it’s just cut and dry, stating a fact.

“well, i-” you turn back and look up from the stove and your words die on your tongue. he’s standing up, looking right at you, a fist full of cash like he’s going to make you use it one way or another. a single vein running through his arms tenses. your gaze flickers from it to his eyes quickly, looking at you like he wants you to start listening to him.

“i, um, i had enough.”

“you should use it.”

“but you already gave me a lot, so i-”

“i want you to use it.” the way he says it, it’s not a request. 

“right. i-i will. is lena awake?”

“she’s getting ready.”

“great. thank you.” you turn back to the eggs with a flushed face. and even though you’re not facing him anymore, you can tell he’s still staring at you. 

“i might not be back tonight.” you turn around and meet his eyes again. terribly green, incredibly sad. you’re too far now to see the brown, but you know it’s there. “i…i’ve got some work. it’ll be late, if i do.”

“thank you for the heads up. i, uh, i’ll crash on the couch then.” you think he might say something else, but you’re not sure. it’s silent for a moment, while you get the eggs onto a plate and hurry into the hallway to get lena.

she comes out first, carrying her backpack. you follow with her hairbrush for once she’s done eating, getting her already packed lunch out from the fridge to sort into her bag. there’s a whole routine that you had learned when you first started babysitting her, and now it’s just a way of life. filling up her water bottle, checking the calendar on the fridge to make sure there’s nothing you’re missing, pulling her jacket from the closet if it’s cold outside.

you get the bottle out, glancing back at her uncle. he’s leaning in while lena takes a bite of the eggs, probably telling her that he won’t be home, and to have a good day, and all the other things you’re sure he says to her. then they hug, and you feel like you’re intruding.

he picks up his keys, which rest in the small blue bowl by the door where yours sit too. and without thinking, you call out after him.

“have a good day at work.” he doesn’t say anything back, but he looks at you before he leaves. you don’t even know what he does for work.

“ready for school?” lena shakes her head no like always.

+

the days are long, but the weeks are short. you bring lena to school, but they have a half-day, so there’s no point in going home for the day if you need to be back in a couple of hours. so you head back to mister cody’s place, focusing your attention on cleaning the remnants from breakfast. you check the fridge, making note of how much fruit and milk you have left, scribbling onto a piece of paper for later. and for once, you listen to him, taking a single bill out of the envelope and putting it into your wallet. there’s other hundred dollar bills in there too, ones you need to deposit.

it hasn’t been making sense lately. a lot of nannies live with their families because it avoids the wastefulness of paying rent for an apartment you hardly ever visit. you pay internet and electric for a one-bedroom that’s empty the entire day. and now that you’re done with classes, you don’t even need to work on anything late at night or even at lena’s house. you carry around a book with you, and you think you’ve even left a couple on the coffee table, just for the future. 

you don’t know why you still have your apartment. well, you know why—mister cody has never mentioned you moving in. and he probably never will, because he doesn’t want you to. but it just doesn’t make sense the more you think about it. you show up between six and seven and sometimes you don’t go home until ten. sometimes you don’t go home at all.

after making your list, you rack your head of things you can do to occupy lena’s time today. the library has a weekly reading, and there’ll be other kids there. you like to pick things so she can get some company from kids her age, so she’s not only stuck with you and her uncle all the time. 

closer to when school gets out, you get in the car, bringing in your emergency bag with a change of clothes and your toothbrush since you’ll be staying the night. it’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence, which is why the bag, and a couple others like it, is always ready to go. you go to the bank first, depositing everything except the single hundred-dollar bill you took today. then you drive by the park, see if they’re having any of those pet-therapy sessions today. and then finally school to pick up lena.

the rest of the day goes how you planned. you forget how exhausting it is keeping a little kid entertained for hours on end, unsure of exactly what her uncle pope and his brothers do with her sometimes, when you struggle to fill up a couple of extra hours. the grocery store—where you splurge and buy ingredients to make stove-top smores because lena asks and you’ll take your wins where you can get them—then the library, where you take out a couple of books for lena to read at home and smile when she’s talking with some of the other girls there, then the playground for an hour, before home for dinner.

you make spaghetti while she finishes her homework, and review her homework while she changes into pajamas. and then it’s time for the routine she loves so much, just like her uncle, a nature documentary about penguins while you toast the marshmallows on a fork. 

an hour later, lena’s asleep in bed, and you’re scrubbing hardened chocolate off the counter next to the stove. you don’t want more work for her uncle when he’s back, and you’ve learned lena’s a heavy sleeper, so you get to cleaning. it’s not like, as pathetic as the thought is, you have anything better to do. 

and then about two hours after that, it’s eleven-thirty. it’s right around the latest that mister cody has ever come home, so you’re pretty sure he won’t be back tonight. 

the only thing you have to look forward to in your apartment is the shower you take after a long day. you’ll have to make do with the shower inside the room where mister cody sleeps, since lena’s is close to her room and filled with products for an eight year old, and at the very least, you need adult shampoo and soap. 

the room is bare—you would have guessed it’s a guest room if you didn’t know better. you’re not nosy, but you look around, trying to see if there’s anything there that makes the room her uncle’s. you know there’s still another bedroom, the one her parents used to share, since lena sometimes goes in there when she can’t sleep. so this was a guest room, and now it’s mister cody’s, and now you’re lurking in it.

besides for a closet full of clean-pressed button up shirts and organized shoes, you can’t discern anything that makes this room his. there’s not a single thing out of place, from the garden-variety decor that someone else had picked to the artwork to the sheets. the bathroom is more of the same, the entire place having that lemon-cleaner smell to it. 

you turn the water on and strip, trying to avoid thinking about how you’ll be sleeping on the couch after this. and even inside the shower, you stare at the two-in-one shampoo bottle and the old spice body wash—old spice. who would have thought?—like you can’t believe what you’re looking at. you inhale the scent for longer than you need to. wrap yourself in a clean towel that doesn’t belong to you. brush your teeth with his spearmint toothpaste. and then you open your overnight bag, and find nothing but sundresses and bathing suits.

it’s past midnight, and you’ve grabbed the wrong bag. you need to get up in about six and a half hours to get lena ready for school, and you’re not positive you have the correct bag in the back of your car. 

hesitantly, you open one of the dresser drawers. there’s black and white t-shirts folded precisely, tucked in evenly. one drawer up there’s folded socks and boxers. 

you chew on your cheek. he did say that he won’t be home tonight. there’s no way he would know you took anything if you ran a load of laundry as soon as you woke up and folded it after morning drop-off. he might not even be home until the afternoon or evening, for all you know.

your tiredness makes the decision for you. the couch isn’t that comfortable, and you refuse to sleep in the shirt and jean skirt you spent all day in. you take a white shirt and black boxers, and then sneak back in for a pair of black socks because the living room is cold at night. and then you set your alarm, turn on another documentary—this one about hummingbirds, wrap yourself in the throw blanket on the couch, and close your eyes. 

andrew comes home at quarter to three. it would have been a lot sooner—he doesn’t like leaving you alone here at night with lena if he can avoid it—but he doesn’t always have control over it. a bullet had grazed deran and he’d spent two hours cleaning up that mess, and then they had to organize their splits before leaving. he had to make sure to stay for that—he needs the cash to pay you, rent for baz’s place, money to put into lena’s savings account. 

but he hates leaving you alone in the apartment with lena. not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he knows now it’s not safe, not without him there. he likes to get you home early but it’s rarely the case, and then he feels like he should pay you extra since he’s making you drive home alone in the dark.

telling you to stay is a better option. you can sleep in his room—it’s not like he’s going to sleep in there anyways. but he doesn’t say that, doesn’t need the nanny thinking there’s something wrong with him too. so he settles for telling you to stay the night, and letting you decide where you’ll sleep. 

you always pick the couch. and sometimes, he’s not back early enough, sometimes you’re already up making breakfast or gone out for the day with lena by the time he’s back.

 but tonight, you’re asleep on the couch. he sets down the bag with the cash on the couch, hovering over you. the television is still on, stuck on a are you still watching? screen, covering up a photo of some birds. a breath leaves him when he realizes you’re watching what he always watches. you’re knocked out—he can tell since the front door opening didn’t wake you like it sometimes does. you’ve kicked away the blanket you usually use, and he thinks for a second he should just cover you up and let you sleep.

but he doesn’t. he stands over you, staring at your sleeping form. he doesn’t like it—how pretty you are when you sleep. it’s a distraction that he can’t escape, knows that the next time he closes his eyes, he’ll think of you. that the next time he sits on this couch, he’ll be able to smell your skin. you snore softly, chest rising and falling evenly. 

and then he notices it—the plain shirt, black socks with a familiar logo. are those his boxers? and now he definitely can’t look away. he puts the pieces together—your hair is wet, meaning you must have showered and then put on his clothes before coming back out here. if you were going to do all of that, why didn’t you just sleep in his room?

yes, pope decides, he needs you to sleep in his bed. he needs the couch anyways, since he won’t be sleeping, so he might as well bring you inside. 

he lifts you carefully, not wanting to stir you accidentally. his shirt is a little big on you, hanging off your shoulder. you stay sound asleep the entire short walk to his bedroom, not stirring even when he sets you down. you must have been really tired, but that makes sense, given the fact that you’ve been out all day with lena.

he thought about sticking a tracker on your car, but the first time he was taking care of lena, after baz, you had shared your phone’s location with him so he could keep track. you had offered it, voluntarily, saying something about how that’s common with babysitters now, and that you never go anywhere without your phone so he won’t have to worry about you leaving it at home.

you thought reassuring him that he would always have lena’s location in his phone would make him feel better. and maybe it had, but he’d never mentioned it again after that day, never brought up if he actually checked it or not.

(it’s not like you would know if he was using it, it doesn’t work like that. deran had explained it to him.) he did check it, pretty frequently, actually. he checked it after you’d leave when he got home, after lena was asleep. he’d watch your little circle drive home and pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex. it wasn’t as bad of an area as it could be, but it wasn’t that safe either. he liked to check it every now and then too, middle of the night, saturday evenings when he was home with lena and you got to leave early or had the day off.

he assumed, somehow, that you’d be in bars or parties at your college, maybe. but when he looks at your location late at night, you’re always at home. he checks other times too—but he’s just trying to keep you safe. (that’s what he tells himself—that finding another babysitter than lena liked and that he trusted would be a hassle. he needs to keep you safe.)

but it doesn’t seem like you like any of that stuff. he’s never seen you drink the beer in the fridge, though you offer one to him every now and then. you’ve met smurf and deran and craig before, like when you’d go to drop off lena before one of your classes, back before you had finished school.

you were smart—he knew that much. that was the kind of good example he needed around lena, someone who had gone through school and finished. he didn’t know what your degree was in, but it must’ve been something smart, something important. you were always typing on your computer and reading books. whatever it is that you studied, he wants someone in lena’s life that can help her with that stuff, stuff he doesn’t know much about, when it’s time.

you were smart enough to turn down every joint or bump that craig offered. you never accepted a drink from smurf that didn’t come from a can that you opened yourself. and baz used to tell him that you were just a local college kid, that you didn’t have any family nearby or anyone to occupy your time, really. 

it didn’t make sense—pretty girl like you. he would have thought you had a boyfriend, but if you do, you’ve never brought him around. and if he didn’t live with you or live at that coffee shop you liked that was down the street from your apartment, then he didn’t know if you even had one. maybe he shouldn’t spend any time thinking about your hypothetical boyfriend, but that’s just what comes up sometimes when he thinks about you for too long. like right now.

you look peaceful lying in his bed. your eyes flutter quickly like you’re having a dream, and he sits on the bed next to you, watching you sleep. your hair falls across your face, and his finger twitches. he almost moves his hand to brush the hair away, but he decides not to, settling for just watching you for another minute or two. 

the bed creaks slightly when he gets up. no one uses it much, so it’s a little weary. he doesn’t think the noise is anything, but your eyes blink open. the door’s open, light from the living room illuminating a sliver of the space.

he thinks he should get out before you can ask any questions, but he doesn’t, hovering over the bed while you look around. 

“andrew?” and god if it doesn’t sound different coming from your lips. you’re too tired to remember that you usually stick with mister cody, which is so formal it hurts. it sounds real, sincere, not filled with fear or anger or anything else. you haven’t even said anything and he thinks he’s losing his mind. 

it’s just the way you say it. there’s no question attached, no demand, no sacrifice. just you, making sure it’s him. 

“that couch is bad for your back,” he says. 

he knows it is, the couple times he tried to lay down and stare at the ceiling. he’s always sore, muscles screaming and joints aching but he knows how to ignore it. he doesn’t think you should start feeling like that. feels angry at the very idea that you would be sore after spending a night on the couch, taking care of his niece, looking after baz’s house. doing all the things that he’s too busy to do.

you take care of things. you do a good job too—figuring out how to get lena to eat and sleep again. making sure her routine doesn’t go awry just because he’s gone on a job all day. you remember things that he doesn’t even know about—activities with kids after school and how the school has soccer practice starting soon. you think a couple steps ahead when it comes to lena, and sometimes, he doesn’t think you see it as a job. 

like when you make enough breakfast for the three of you. leave dinner on a plate inside the microwave with a note on the counter. when you clean like it’s your house, make sure things stay in the place they’re supposed to, which is so much harder when there’s a kid around. he’s not stupid—it’s why he gives you so much money each week, shoves an envelope into your hand despite your protests. why the first thing he does after he gets his cut is make sure you get yours. 

and as hard as the thought is to swallow, he doesn’t think he could do all of this without you. 

“mmh-” you agree, making a soft noise. he wishes he could engrain it into his brain and replay it whenever he wants. “i thought you don’t sleep?” you ask, and he sees your lips turn up into a smile. he wishes the lights were on.

“i try,” he replies, realizing that he’s still hovering over you. he wonders why you weren’t scared the moment you woke up. “sometimes. i try.” 

“do you wanna try now?” you ask, whispering. and he goes silent—because what is he supposed to say that? 

you reach out in the dark for his hand, and he flinches, taking it back. but you don’t retreat, reaching out again until you’re grasping his fingers. 

“try for a couple hours. i set an alarm,” you say, and the way you say it, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. you have a way of convincing him, or maybe it’s just late and you’re tired, and your sleepy voice isn’t helping matters. nor does the fact that you don’t seem even remotely concerned that you’re inviting him to come sleep on the bed next to you.

you sit up a little, and he regrets even staying as long as he did. you need your sleep, unlike him. you’re still holding onto his hand, and your skin is warm on his. it couldn’t really be, but it feels like it’s burning his, where your palm rests against his, where your fingers twist with his. 

“hey,” you start, slow and soft. “don’t think about it. just sleep for a little.” 

“yeah,” he says. “okay. a little.”

you move over, and when he lays down—back straight against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling—it’s warm where your body was resting. you’re still holding onto his hand, not letting go. your grip is loose enough that he could free his hand easily, and even if it wasn’t, he could overpower you if he wanted.

but he doesn’t want to. and somewhere between your slow breaths and how you rub his knuckles, running your soft skin against dozens of old scars—because that’s his punching hand—andrew falls asleep.

you can hear it, his breaths getting steady, evening out. your hands stay together in the middle of the bed, between you, and you wonder for a split second how you’re going to deal with this in the morning, how you’ll make sense of this in daylight. the semblance of a professional relationship you had maintained this entire time might turn into dust in a couple hours. and then you breathe in andrew’s comforting scent, clean linen and saltwater, and fall back asleep.

the best thing about this house is the light and the waves. golden rays pour in through the half-way open blinds and you can hear the ocean crashing against the rocks in the distance. it’s the perfect way to wake up, even if it is six-thirty and your alarm is going off in the living room, where your phone must be.

you need to get up. you don’t want lena to wake up from the noise, even though you know she won’t—that girl can sleep through anything. it’s a problem for when she’s older, when she goes to college and there’s no one besides a roommate to make sure she doesn’t miss class. even half-asleep, you smile thinking about it.

and somehow, when you look on the other side of the bed, it hits you that it wasn’t a dream. andrew is asleep next to you, still in whatever clothes he was wearing throughout the day. a short sleeved button up and pants. you’re surprised that he didn’t fall asleep with his shoes on. 

he looks very calm when he sleeps. the lines of tension on his forehead and around his eyes are soft when he’s like this, his hair a mess and cheek smushed against the pillow, against your hand.

he’s still holding your hand. it makes a certain kind of warmth rain all over you, flooding you from inside out. he’s on top of the covers and you’re under the throw blanket, and you don’t remember doing that, which means that he did.

an exhausted, half-asleep andrew cody covered you up before he fell asleep on top of the covers. he fell asleep holding your hand and your chest hurts because he won’t wake up holding it still, since you need to go turn that stupid alarm off. 

he never sleeps, you know this. he’s never been asleep when you show up early, never heading to bed when you leave for the day. this bed is pretty much always made, sheets never rustled and not a pillow out of place because no one sleeps here. you hope you can start changing that.

you don’t want to pull your hand away from him. it’s so simple, so sweet that you can’t bring yourself to do it. that this whole time, andrew just needed someone to sleep beside him. you rest your head back on the pillow, continue staring, creepy as it is. you’ve never been able to study him like this before, have never been close enough. 

the hand holding onto yours is softer than you’d imagined. the veins running through his forearm are thick and tense, even when he’s like this. you think it might be from how tightly he’s holding onto your hand, like even in his sleep he’s worried he might lose you somehow. 

andrew cody has freckles—all across his arms and on his hands too. there’s a splatter of them across his nose and cheeks, places where he must have gotten burnt as a kid, maybe when he was lena’s age. the tips of his ears flush pink while he sleeps, and he snores. all things that make you smile, things that are so personal you feel your face getting warm, like you shouldn’t have access to that information. 

you need to turn that god-damn alarm off, before it wakes him up. you think you’d rather die than disrupt the few hours of peaceful sleep he’s getting right now. so you wriggle your hand, trying to find the best way to get it out of his grip and make sure you don’t wake him in the process. nothing’s working, even in his sleep he’s thrice as strong as you. the generic alarm tone keeps going in the background.

you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss to andrew’s cheek, whispering that you promise to be right back. and for a split second he moves around, and you regain control of your tingling hand.

the bed creaks a little when you get up, but you do it slowly so it’s not too loud. walk to the couch as fast as your bare feet will take you, looking down and realizing you’re still in andrew’s socks.

(his shirt and boxers too, but you’re choosing to ignore that for now. if someone walked in through the front door in this moment, it would look like you and him were something other than a guardian and babysitter. you think you’d actually enjoy trying to see him explain to his brothers why you’re in his clothes head to toe. you might like this more than you think you did.)

you can hear the ocean again once the alarm is turned off. it’s a beautiful thing to wake up too, you think, pulling open the curtains and looking outside on the street. people are on runs, doing yoga on the beach, watching the sunrise with their dogs.

and inside, andrew cody is sound asleep.

the first part of your day is waking up lena. she grumbles and takes five, sometimes ten, minutes to get up after you go in there. in that time, you set out clothes for her and then head back to the kitchen. you have a habit of making sure her backpack has everything—the colorful pens she’s always telling you about and yesterday’s homework. if she forgot something at home, the school would call andrew, and then andrew would call you, and you hate adding more work to his life. so, you make sure it’s all there before she leaves.

then breakfast—eggs and toast if you’re running late, pancakes if you got there early. it’s seeming like a pancake sort of day.

you make the batter and then pull out the bag of chocolate chips and head back to lena’s room. you use the semi-sweet morsels as an incentive to get her up, which works like a charm. while she’s changing and brushing her teeth, you make three pancakes. two for lena, and the first one you peeled that’s never quite as good is for you. 

lena comes to the table to eat her pancakes, and you tell her to stay just a little quieter than usual because her uncle pope is still sleeping.

“really?” she asks, and you feel something inside of you twist in discomfort. as if you had imagined before you met him, maybe he was sleeping, that maybe this was something recent. you smile at lena.

“yeah, sweetie, really.” 

you bring lena to school, come back home, and check on andrew—who is still sleeping. you cover him up with the blanket you’d slept under and then make three more pancakes and some scrambled eggs. there’s no bacon in the house or you would have made that too.

you scribble it on the grocery list and then head back inside the bedroom, carefully perching yourself on the edge of the bed and maybe a little too comfortable, too quick, run your fingers through his messy hair. he sighs against the pillow and it makes you smile immediately. you keep going, fingers not stopping until you see his eyes fluttering open. you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, though you don’t want to stop either. 

“i made breakfast,” you say quietly. andrew looks up at you, and then to your slept-in side of the bed. he moves, sitting up in the bed and you take back your hand tentatively. his hair is soft like you’d imagined.

 he wipes his face with his hands, rubbing at his eyes. and when he looks at you, you feel any prudence that once was inside you melt away. well-rested, sleepy andrew cody, waking up in the bed you shared last night, while you tell him about the pancakes you made for him. you couldn’t have imagined this, for some reason, which makes it feel all the more real. 

“what time is it?” he asks, in a gruff, sleepy voice.

“almost nine, i think.” he looks up at you quickly.

“lena?”

“i brought her to school already. you-you were sleeping. i didn’t want to wake you.” 

“when did you get up?” 

“six-thirty. my alarm. remember?” you do remember telling him about it before you fell asleep, one of the last things you had said in a conversation that feels like it was light-years ago. 

“yeah.” you know better than to expect anything right now. he’s always been quiet, sentences curt and expressions relatively blank. you’ve had a few hours to simmer in it—think about what’ll happen tomorrow and next week and what it means to sleep in the bed next to the man whose niece you babysit. he just woke up a few minutes ago.

“well, there’s pancakes. and eggs. there’s no bacon but i’ll go get some later-”

“did you eat?” you catch his eye. perched on the bed next to him, you can see more than just green. brown too, around his pupils. not nearly as sad as they had seemed yesterday. 

“yeah. i had one.” 

“just one?” you don’t have an answer for that, but unusually confident, you stand up. 

“i’ll have a bite of yours if you come eat with me.”

and though you couldn’t have imagined it last night, you end up leaning against the counter with andrew, splitting bites of chocolate-chip pancakes (yours drenched in syrup, his comparably dry as a bone), and luke-warm scrambled eggs. 

he washes the dishes, and you put them away. it’s incredibly domestic. 

“i’m sorry about your clothes,” you say, sliding a plate back into the cupboard. “um, i’ll wash everything today.” you had to bring it up at some point.

and then andrew turns to look at you. head to toe, he stares, gaze flicking up and down for what seems like eons. you don’t have a guess for why, maybe he’s trying to decide if he’ll accept your apology.

(he’s trying to memorize it, capture it like a picture in his brain, seal it up and hold onto it forever. how you look right now—his white shirt, with nothing underneath, which must be why he can see the outline of your breasts when you turn to put another dish away. his boxers, that you bunched up around your waist, his socks, one rolled up around your ankle and the other halfway up your calf. did you go to the school drop-off in his clothes, too?)

“and i can wash your jacket too, i’m sorry. it was kind of cold and i don’t know where my hoodie is. i-i’m sorry.”

he turns to look at you again. you seem worried, chewing on your cheek, waiting for his answer.

“don’t wash the jacket,” he says, and turns back to the sink. he doesn’t want it to stop smelling like you, but you don’t need to know that.

“yeah. sure. i won’t. sorry again, andrew.” 

his heart thuds in this chest at the realization that you might never go back to calling him mister cody. 

the two of you finish the dishes. he wipes up the counter while you put away lena’s things, and then he grabs his keys and puts on his shoes. you stand there watching, feeling awfully close to something like a wife watching her husband about to leave her for the day. and when you open your mouth, you can’t stop it from coming out.

“do you know when you’ll be back?”

“i’ll be here for dinner. can you pick up lena?” he doesn’t want to leave you, but there’s about ten texts and three missed calls on his phone that he needs to deal with. when he shrugs his jacket on, it does, in fact, smell like you. it might be enough to keep him calm the rest of the day.

“yeah, of course. well.. i’ll go start the laundry.” a vision of you peeling off your—his—clothes plagues his mind momentarily. “i’ll see you later?” you say, smiling hesitantly. 

and without thinking too much about it, andrew comes up close to you, leans in a little awkwardly, and kisses your forehead.

“i’ll see you later.” he leaves you there in his shirt and socks, blinking stupidly at the door. 

+

andrew does come back for dinner. you make an attempt at chicken parm at lena’s request, which really just turns out to be a sort of chicken parm-casserole situation, but lena likes it and the garlic bread tastes good, so you will call it a win for now.

while you’re simmering sauce and frying the cutlets, your mind flicks through everything you know about lena’s uncle. he’d never once been anything but nice to you—nice is one way to put it. polite is another. courteous, appropriate, reserved. 

one night you had been waiting for him so you could leave, and he’d come home with lena’s other uncles. you had introduced yourself and smiled nicely, and when you left and gotten into your car, it hadn’t turned on. you remember debating if you should go back inside or just call triple a and wait, but somehow, andrew had known something was wrong. he had come out a few minutes later, told you that he would drive you home while his brother stayed at home and that he’d be back in a minute. 

he’d dropped you off at home and told you he’d come get you in the morning. and you had slept anxiously that night, wondering what was wrong with your car and how much of a disturbance it would be to andrew to come get you. 

but after the two of you had dropped lena off at school—again, disturbingly domestic—he brought you back to the house. and without any words at all, he worked on your car while you sat and watched. you held a flashlight when he needed it, and he said it shouldn’t happen again when he was done. 

and you guess that’s the kind of man andrew cody is.

true to his word, andrew comes home in time to eat dinner with you and lena. after dinner, since it’s friday, you let her have a brownie and a half, the ones you’d made earlier that day. you have one too and you offer one to andrew, but he shakes his head, and you’re only mildly disappointed.

you haven’t been home, so you’re wearing one of the dresses from the wrong overnight bag you’d brought here. (your disappointment goes away when you notice that he hasn’t stopped staring at your exposed thighs since the minute he walked through the door.)

lena watches a cartoon before bed and you try to clean up the rest of the kitchen, but it’s hard, since andrew’s done most of the leg-work already. he tucks lena in and you gather your belongings—and true to your word, you did laundry and put his clothes back in the exact place you found them. 

(you did steal another pair of socks, but you hardly think he minds now. he kissed you goodbye this morning like he was actually your husband, or something, and every minute you spend in this house washing dishes and scrubbing counters next to him is not helping. he stares at the straps of your dress like he could slip them off your shoulder with his mind, like it’s the only thing he’s thinking about. you don’t mind.) 

“she’s out,” he says, coming back into the living room. you’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked to your chest while you change the channel to one of those documentaries you’ve been so fond of recently. you turn to smile at andrew and he comes and takes a seat next to you. 

“that’s good. i can go soon.” but you make no effort to move, staring at the screen in front of you. this one is about sea-life, shades of blue flooding ahead of you both. 

“you can stay,” andrew says, quiet like always. “if you want.” his voice is deep and gravelly, and the words he says scratch an itch somewhere deep inside of you, and the relief is visible on your body. you sink a little further into the sofa, knees falling next to andrew’s, thighs touching. 

“if that’s okay with you.” you whisper it, as if saying it too loudly might make the entire idea crack open and fall apart.

you two stay like that for a while. you don’t know when, but andrew swings an arm around your shoulder, and you rest your head against his chest, collapsing into his comfortable grip. you can hear his heart beating, can feel every breath he takes. his hand brushes the top of your shoulder every time you breath, and his other hand is clasped with yours. you watch schools of fish and pods of dolphins, and you think that any other night, you could fall asleep like this. 

“andrew?” you ask, still staring straight ahead. you brush your fingers over his knuckles like you had done last night, and you can feel his hand tense under your touch, until it finally relaxes. “do you want to go to bed?” 

“yeah, kid,” he says. “let’s go to bed.” 

and you’ll be damned if the domesticity doesn’t kick you in the stomach, sucker punch you in the chest and knock all the wind out of you. andrew turns the tv off, puts the remote back in the right place. and then he picks you up, and you make a quiet noise of surprise, underestimating him momentarily. you should know better.

one hand wraps around your legs and the other around your back, bridal-style (fitting, you think), and he sets you down on the creaky bed. you worry, how loud it’ll be and how you’ll have to be quiet but then andrew hovers over you, nothing but a tiny lamp brightening up the room, and you lose your train of thought.

“you sure you wanna do this?” he asks, that rough voice again. like you’ve thought about anything else for the last twenty-four hours. you nod quickly, bringing your hands to his chest, and then his arms, fingers tracing the sinewy veins and thrumming muscles up and down on both sides. his eyes shut while you do it, breaths getting heavy and deep. but you keep going—it’s only fair. you’ve only thought about it a million times. 

“does that feel good?” you whisper, and he lets out a quiet, almost painful groan.

“y-yes,” and you smile, fingers moving on their own while you lean in for the kiss you’ve been waiting for. 

andrew’s mouth is hot, and his kisses are like fire. as soon as your lips touch, he pins you all the way down, his body weight on top of yours. he kisses you the same way he had held your hand last night, the same way he held you on the couch, like you’ll slip away if he stops for even a second. your lips start to ache, but you moan quietly into his mouth, letting him swallow them while you still stroke his arms. one day, you’ll crawl into his lap and play with his hands until he’s sick of you, but today, you need to feel him. 

you can’t do much from your position, but you can wrap your legs around his waist, one hand going towards his chest to pull at his shirt. he takes it off in one motion, yanking the fabric at the back until it comes off, messing up his hair while he pulls it. your free hand goes there, running through his hair again. you use it to steady yourself, gaining leverage while he keeps kissing you like there’s nothing else for him to do. like his life depends on it. he thinks it just might.

“an-andrew,” you get out in gasps, moving your mouth away for a second. “i need to breathe,” you pant, but he doesn’t stop, kisses your cheek and your jaw and buries his face in your neck. you feel the skin there between his lips, then his teeth, and you grip hard on his arm while he keeps going. you want him to keep going, you want to see the marks he leaves tomorrow and every other day. you want everyone to look at you and know that he’s the one who left them. and you think your wish is about to come true.

your fingers let go of his arms and he groans against your skin—there’s no words but you know he didn’t want you to stop. instead you guide them to both sides of his face, staring up at him and then bringing him back in for another kiss. you think you’d be perfectly content to do this forever, that you could spend hours, days, weeks in bed kissing andrew cody. that you’d be stupid to ever leave this bed, leave this house, when there’s a man here who kisses you like each touch of your lips is a prayer, like he’s here to worship. 

he’s not hesitant anymore, not wondering if you’re going to pull away and walk out and ask to pretend this never happened. you keep your hands on his face, and then work down to his jaw and neck, clasping your arms around to keep him in place. 

and his mind is empty. he thinks he should know what to do with you, with your labile body flush against his, all the things he’s been thinking about for the last months, if not at least what he was thinking since this morning. you’re still in your little dress, one of the thin straps fallen over your shoulder and dangling on the skin of your upper arm. he pulls away and you whine, another noise he wishes he could capture somehow. it’s a melody, one he wants to keep hearing. 

you wish he hadn’t stopped the kiss, and you expect him to lean right back in after you both catch your breath, but he doesn’t. andrew’s hovering over you, eyes fixated on your shoulder, staring intently at the strap of your dress. 

“andrew?” you whisper, the hand on his neck rubbing the tense skin there, wondering if you could get your kiss back. “is something wrong?”

his lovely eyes flicker up to you, staring while you swallow and wait patiently. maybe you’d been too eager, maybe he was having regrets—after all, you’re the nanny and he’s the dad and maybe you’d been too presumptuous in assuming that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him—

“no. nothing’s wrong.” you sigh a tiny breath of relief, it comes out before you even notice. but andrew is nothing if not perceptive, and he wraps his hand around your back and lays you back on his bed. 

“why did you stop?” you question, flustered and embarrassed as the words come out, sounding like a spoiled child. but you suppose you had been spoiled these last few hours, getting everything you wanted—his hot touch, breathless kisses, the ability to finally see what the veins on his arms feel like under your palm. 

he doesn’t answer your question, just flicks his eyes back to your shoulder. and then he leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the end of your collarbone, tracing more kisses down through the length of your shoulder, stopping when he reaches the skimpy cotton of your dress. you take deep breaths, watching it happen in front of you. he repeats the same with the other side, pulls the strap down like he’s unfolding a gift, kisses your skin like you’re his present. and you think you are.

there’s nothing between you two except your thin dress, and you pull on it eagerly, trying to get it off, when his hands come and stop on top of yours.

“you’ll rip it,” andrew says, fingers going towards the zipper in the back, undoing it slowly.

“i don’t care,” breathless, eager, unable to wait even another minute to get what you want. he pulls the zipper all the down, your dress falling off as your shrug out of it. 

and you want another kiss, you want his touch, you want something, anything—but all you get is andrew staring at your naked body. and you think somehow this is worse than anything else, anticipation burning in your belly painfully. your thighs feel sticky and sore and your underwear is soaked through. and all he’s done is kiss you. 

“you’re perfect,” he says quietly, and you feel your entire face burn hot. you don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before—and you know how andrew is. he doesn’t lie, he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. 

you tilt your head up, pressing your lips to his for a moment, a soft kiss in contrast to the ones from earlier.

“so are you,” and you kiss him again, smiling against his mouth. he feels it, though he doesn’t smile back. and when he pulls away, he looks down at you, naked and willing in his bed, smiling up at him and telling him he’s perfect, when you don’t even know half the monster he is. “you are,” you repeat, watching andrew’s eyes as he thinks a million thoughts in his head, carries a million burdens on his shoulders. “even if you don’t believe me. i think you’re perfect.” 

you feel cheesy saying it, though you know there isn’t another man in the world who needs to hear it more. you can hear him make a noise of protest, like he doesn’t think you mean it, and incredibly desperate for him to believe you, you sit up.

your hands go to sturdy shoulders while you try to get him to move, until he’s sitting back against the headboard and you can crawl onto his lap. he’s silent, watching you as you do it, exposed body flush against his skin, and yet, you don’t feel scared. you don’t feel embarrassed, or worried. you just want to make him feel good.

you start with a kiss to his jaw. andrew’s body tenses under yours, the slightest bit of contact making him groan and buck up, his hands tight on the soft skin of your waist to keep you both steady. you work your way down to his neck, pressing kisses everywhere in your path. 

“do you want to know what i’ve thought about you?” you ask, though you don’t wait for an answer. you kiss down his chest, stopping at the strong muscles of his chest and the old bruises and scars that cover some of them. “i thought that you’re so good at taking care of your family.” you move down to his abs, more kisses, hearing more noises from andrew that you never would have thought he would make for you. he takes shuddering breaths, not replying to you but grunting from pleasure while you keep going. “i thought that you’re so good to me. that i don’t have to worry since i know i can always come to you.” you think of your car and the money he gives you and how you woke up in bed despite falling asleep on the couch. 

finally you make your way to the waistband of his jeans, undoing the belt with surprisingly steady hands. he reaches down, his hands covering yours for a moment, but you stare up at him with your glassy eyes, not even pulling the entire belt off, just enough to get you what you need—what you want. and then you undo his zipper, tug down his boxers, and take his girthy length into your hand, stroking up and down while still staring up at him. 

“can i take care of you, andrew?” and you don’t realize how it must sound to him, his head thudding back onto the pillow. you press a gentle kiss to his leaking tip, both hands wrapped around his dick and stroking while you wait for your answer. 

“y-yes, yes-” and you don’t wait any longer, taking as much of andrew into your mouth as you can fit. you drive your mouth up and down, your hands twisting around the base, everything wet and warm and sticky from your spit. and you think you would do this forever, that you would do this everyday if you could hear the noises he makes and how his body takes the pleasure you give him. you gag around him, feeling his hand snake into your hair, pulling you off gently. you smile up at him, though you’re sure you look like a mess, hot tears running down your cheeks and lips shiny and wet. 

but you don’t stop—licking up and down until you bring him back into your mouth. you can feel how embarrassingly wet you are right now, can feel yourself leaking onto your thighs and the sheets, wanting friction as badly as you wanted to make andrew feel good right now. and then you hear it—andrew’s moan, louder than any of the other noises and full and from the chest. he bucks up into your mouth and you take it, ready to hear what he sounds like when he finishes, when he pulls you off of him. 

“andrew—” you whine, as though you were the one about to come. he pulls you up, naked bodies pushed against each other, and kisses you until you feel light-headed.

“not until you do,” he murmurs, and you feel dizzy all over again.

“but i’m not done,” still eager to kiss the rest of his body and tell him how good he is, until he starts to believe you. you wrangle out of his loose grip, knowing full well if he wanted to stop, he could have. he could pin you down and do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t be able to fight him, a thought that makes you feel like you’re going to faint. but you resume quickly, starting at his shoulders—stopping to admire all the sunspots spattered there—and starting your journey again, working down his bicep and to his freckled forearm, the ones you stared at whenever the opportunity presented itself, the one you thought about all the time.

andrew doesn’t know about that, and you’re not sure you can bear to tell him. it feels too revealing, despite how you’re naked on top of him, your breasts pressed against him and wet pussy on top of his hard, leaking dick. but sure—that’s what you get nervous about. 

you stop and trace all the veins with your fingers, feeling him pulse underneath you, repeating on both sides. he’s got his head tilted back, soft groans filling the empty space between you as you keep going. if they’re this sensitive for him, you can only imagine what it would feel like for you, especially the one leading down to the middle of his wrist—and then the words slip out before you can realize you had said them out loud.

your face goes hot again. he looks up at you a little confused, and you have to stop yourself from collapsing and burying your face into the pillow next to you.

“andrew?” you ask, shy and embarrassed and yet not stopping yourself at all. 

“you… you like my arms?” he says, and you feel your face heat up.

but so many things have happened already that you couldn’t have even dreamt about twenty-four hours ago, so you think it’s worth a shot. (that’s a lie. you have dreamt about this, so many times that you’ve woken up in your bed covered in a cold sweat, that you’ve burned through a vibrator and ruined pillows imagining what it would be like to rub yourself against his veiny arms. you guess you’re about to find out). 

your fingers trace the length of them again.

“i like everything about you,” you say quietly, understanding just how silly you sound. “but we don’t have to do anything.” you try to cover your tracts, worried you’ve just messed up the incredible time you’ve been having so far littering his body with kisses and feeling butterflies in your cunt from the fact that andrew will be inside of you soon. 

“how would you-” andrew starts, and you watch him carefully as he gets out the next few words. “do it? how?” and it’s just cut and dry way he speaks, though it’s really going to your head (and other places) right now. 

“well, i-”

“show me.” oh. 

you feel yourself pulse and throb in response to his words. even below you, you can still feel how hard andrew is. you try to start positioning yourself, but you must be moving too slowly for him, and you feel his hand on your ass, grabbing you and pushing you up to his chest, face to face. he lays his arm next to you, watching your naked body as you try to balance yourself between it, his free arm on your hip, keeping you steady. 

when you lower yourself, just an inch or two, just until you feel the ridge of his forearm and you can decide what to do after realizing that you are, in fact, doing this, andrew curses under his breath.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he can feel it. feel you, on his arm, leaking, for him. you take a deep breath, pressing your hands against his chest to keep your balance, moving your hips up and down slowly. and your eyes flutter shut because fuck, if it isn’t better than every fantasy you’ve ever had.

you hadn’t known that your pathetic attempts to recreate this at home would have never lived up to the real thing, and now you realize you’ll never be able to go back to anything else but andrew, that no one else could make you feel this way. months of pent-up desire leave your body as you rock yourself against him, finally getting the stimulation you’ve been craving.

when you open your eyes, just for a second, you see andrew, his eyes glued to where your pussy meets his arm, his breaths heavy and deep, like he wouldn’t look away from the sight before him for anything.

and then you feel the veins rub against your clit, and your eyes roll back into your head. you keep going, trying to muffle your moans and sighs, but you can’t get the image out of your head—andrew staring at you, like he wanted this as much as you’ve wanted it, like he needs to see you cum like this. you start going faster, the friction and the slide from your juices making it easier and the veins rubbing at you just the right way—

he leans in, putting one of your peaked nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, before letting go and repeating the same with the other one. but it’s really when andrew starts talking that you’re pulled over the edge, his hand hot on your back.

“please,” he says, and you feel yourself falling into it, hanging onto every raspy word, so much better than you could have ever dreamed, “-i-i need you to cum for me. i need to feel you, i need to see it, please-”

and you do. you always listen to andrew, all the white-hot tension wound up in your belly releasing, flooding your entire body with the relief you’ve been wanting all night. your body tightens up, stopping, but he moves you with the huge hand on your hip, makes you rub on him all through it, pulling your body like you’re a toy for him.

your mind is empty while your toes curl and uncurl, thighs aching and sore in this position. andrew ushers you towards him, and you collapse on his chest, heaving and sweaty and tired—and the realization hits you that he hasn’t even been inside of you yet.

he kisses you while he has you trapped in his arms, your eyes shut as you breathe him in, moan into his mouth and let him swallow it. 

“y-your arm,” you get out, realizing you’re not speaking in coherent sentences. “i’m sorry-”

“why?” he asks, and you shut up instantly. “didn’t know you liked them that much.” 

he laughs quietly, a sound you have only heard a few times. you laugh against his chest for a moment, before pulling him in for another kiss. this time, it deepens, and he gets you on your back in front of him before he pulls away. you stare up at him, mind empty and chest heaving, seeing how his eyes stay on your tits, and you reach up, putting your hands on his chest while he hovers over you.

“it might hurt,” he says, and you feel your entire body tighten, your walls clench at his words. there’s nothing but truth behind his statement—it’s not meant to be arrogant or boastful, he’s warning you. it’s going to hurt, you know it is—you could barely fit half of him in your mouth and it took you both hands to be able to comfortably stroke him.

but the way he says it elicits a fire in you, and suddenly you need him now, no matter how much it hurts. 

“i don’t care, andrew, please,” you beg, staring up at him. he still hovers, licking his lips and staring at your how tits bounce while you beg him to fuck you—a thought that he cannot process, even with you splayed out in front of him. he brings his arms out, fingers teasing your sensitive nipples until you’re covering your own mouth to avoid being too loud and you think you’re going to black out. (even in the dim light you can see the shine on his forearm from you, and the memory of it takes over your mind like a twister.) 

“i have to stretch you out first.” the words possess your body like a demon. andrew takes your knees and spreads them apart, and no matter how hard you try to close them, you can’t compete against him. when he slides in one huge finger, your eyes roll back. he slips in so easily, the noise is obscene. the second finger goes in just as quickly, but there’s more resistance. two of his fingers are at least three of yours (if not more, you think, and then you want to faint again). the stretch is delicious, your pulsing walls realizing that this has been what you’ve been craving all along. that no toys or pillows or fingers of your own could ever compare.

when he slips a third finger in, he doesn’t change the pace. just keeps pushing them in and out of you like you’re a toy he’s testing the limits with, seeing how much you can take before you break. there’s no instructions for you besides to sit back and take it—and your toes curl and your head spins at how good he feels. the stretch hurts, but you want it so badly, you hear yourself crying out and saying incoherent things. you think you see andrew smile from where he is, watching your cunt suck his fingers in, his entire hand coated in your juices.

and when he hovers over you, bringing his tip to your entrance and prodding against you for a moment, you think you’re in heaven. he’s so flushed, tips of ears and his cheeks pink, sweat coating his body, just like yours. you can only imagine how hard he is, how you’ll get to feel how hard he is soon enough. his eyes stay at your pussy, pushing in, just barely, but you need more. you bring your hands to his arms, holding onto him while he slides in, and when you feel him push all the way in—so much bigger than you could have imagined, three of his fingers is nothing compared to this, nothing, nothing, nothing—he’s on top of you and kissing you. 

whatever noises you make are tuned out—your ears are ringing and you can’t hear anything besides andrew’s grunts and moans as they come into your mouth. you keep kissing him, pulling on his lower lip and feeling his tongue on yours, but your entire body goes slack when he starts on a brutal pace, pulling all the way out and slamming into you. the bed is creaky, and the only noise besides it is the obscene one—the squelch of your soaking wet cunt taking andrew all the way, the repetitive slap of his skin meeting yours. you feel everything—the pressure of his hands while he holds you incredibly tightly, the fullness in your cunt that makes it feel like you can’t breathe.

and then andrew kisses your lips and makes a noise that makes you leak even more, and you know you’ll be just fine.

“i-i want-” he starts, and you feel him slow down the pace slightly.

“please, andrew,” you beg, and he resumes, fucking into you with an intensity that reminds you how badly he wants you, how long he’s wanted this. it reminds you of every time you caught him staring, every time you smiled at him wondering what he was thinking. and now you think you know—maybe he was thinking about something like this.

“i want another one,” he says into the skin of your neck, feeling him lick the sweat there and kiss the skin. “i want to feel it while i’m inside-” and god if you can’t comply. you want to do every single thing he tells you for the rest of your life, you don’t want to make another decision without andrew cody. 

he changes the position, pulling out of you for a second and making you whine again. (spoiled, you think, he’s spoiled me for anyone else forever.) he holds both of your knees up and spreads them wide and wraps your arms around them, keeping them in place. and then he slides back inside of you in one swift movement, making your eyelids flutter shut. he doesn’t get right on top of you, leaving space between you that makes it impossible to lean in for a kiss, and you keep whining, impossibly and irrationally angry that you can’t kiss him, wondering why he wants you like this, when you feel his fingers circle your clit slowly—then quickly.

your head falls back onto the pillow. andrew can feel you pulsing around him, walls clenching every time he rubs your sensitive clit, and that’s what he wants, that’s what he needs, wants to feel you cum around his dick and squeeze him even tighter than you are right now. wants to see how you look completely fucked out, wants to see if you can give him a third. (he’ll get it, he decides, later. he’ll give you a chance to breathe, get you water after this. all the things he would do to take care of you, just like how you deserve, how a husband would take care of his wife.) 

because at the end of the day, isn’t that what you two basically already are? you couldn’t be a girlfriend, because you have to get comfortable around a girlfriend. 

no, he thinks, watching your fucked-out, flushed body take him like you were made for it. you already know him, know what he likes and doesn’t like, know how to make him feel good like you had been inside of his head already. you have been inside. you’re all he thinks about. that’s a wife, that is something that is forever, what the two of you have. 

he doesn’t realize how hard he’s going, how fast, or how you’ve been squealing with your entire body tensing while he was stuck in his thoughts about you. this time when you finish, it explodes through you, the electric current staring from your core and spreading to every finger and toe. you jolt, legs shaking and head heavy, the after effect rolling through you while andrew keeps fucking you, keeps going even though he should probably stop. you’re incoherent, writhing and crying and feeling completely numb and like your entire body is burning all at once. 

and when you blink open your watery eyes at andrew, smile sweetly and reach out for a kiss, one that he happily gives you, you say it quietly.

“i love you, andrew.” and you feel his thrusts stutter, his body weight almost collapsing on you. you feel andrew cum, feel it filling you up while you listen to his quiet moans and run your hands over his tense muscles, saying sweet things that he can barely understand in this state. 

he rolls over minutes later, not pulling out until you were done kissing him. the room is filled with nothing but your heavy breaths. you need a shower, and you need to sleep.

you curl up on andrew’s chest like you had been on the couch what felt like a lifetime ago. you play with his fingers and he runs his other hand up and down the expanse of your arm. you can hear birds outside—and you know you need to get up soon, but you can’t find any words. 

“you think that was enough?” andrew asks, and you look up at him with a confused expression. he looks at you with so much sincerity you feel like crying. your andrew.

“what do you mean?” you ask quietly, still not sure what he’s even talking about. your head is spinning and your eyes are tired—every part of you is tired.

“we can go again after you get some sleep. it might take more than once.”

“andrew?”

“you don’t have to worry about it. i’ll figure it out. i won’t stop until i put a baby in you.”

♡ thank you for reading

[wol-fica]

-Oscar Winning Tears-

pairings - sabrinacarpenter x fem!reader

summary - With Sabrina being away in Europe on her tour, you just couldn’t keep up with your emotions

warnings - none

an - stripping fic is almost done, doing up the final touches before it’s yours <3

———————

Crying is a form of release, a way to let all your pent-up emotions out that have built up throughout the day. It is a quite easy option instead of losing your temper or being frustrated and sad.

Unfortunately, your body would not let you cry, for whatever reason.

It had been an awful day, and honestly an awful week, and all you wanted to do was just scream into your pillow and just let it all out. Things went wrong, people were upset, you pretty much got yelled at every day, and you had to come home to an empty house after.

Sabrina was in Europe, specifically Paris, while finishing up the last few shows of the tour. She wasn’t supposed to be home until mid-April, and normally you would never ask her to come back to you while she was on tour, but you really needed someone to lean onto and your girlfriend is always the first that comes to your mind.

The phone in your hand rang softly, your eyes focused on the screen as you waited to see if she would pick up. It was 2 AM for you, meaning it was an early morning for Sabrina, and she was usually getting ready for her show at rehearsals. She has always told you that she would prioritize your calls and do her best to answer, but it was never guaranteed while she was working, especially in the mornings.

“Y/N?” A voice sounded after the line clicked, soft and questioning, “It’s late hon, why are you up?”

You inhaled, your breath shaky and weak from the emotions piled up inside of you. Sabrina listened on the other line, waiting patiently for your response.

“What’s wrong baby?” She asked after a moment of silence, “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, playing with the hem of your blanket, “I can’t”

A sigh came from the other end, not of annoyance but more of remorse. You heard her shuffle around, saying something inaudible to another person before the sound of a door shutting came through, the quiet chatter behind her disappearing.

“There’s melatonin in the bathroom, if you want to take that.”

“I know…I just…” Your sentence gave up on itself, struggling to find your voice to say what you felt.

“Baby.” Sabrina sounded firm, yet still gentle and loving, “Did something happen?”

Your bottom lip wobbled, the feeling of crying rising in your throat. Your hand clutched at your chest, trying to find the right way to breathe in the thick air around you.

“I just…I’ve had a r-really bad week.” You said shakily, trying but failing at steadying your voice, “I know you’re in P-Paris…but I just wish you w-were here...”

Your voice broke at the end of your words, your lip slipping between your teeth as an attempt to suppress your tears. You heard Sabrina inhale sharply on the other end, a sign of her realization and guilt.

“Oh, my love.” She cooed to you, a skill that helps soothe you, “I’m so sorry honey, I wish I could be there too.”

You nodded, a whimper passing through your lips at the thought and understanding of her being so far away. Her heart broke at the sound, her lips curling down as her mind raced with what could have potentially happened to upset you. She looked around the room as she pondered, trying to come up with a solution that would help you.

“I’m gonna come to you.” She said after a while, making up her mind, “The show can be postponed for a little.”

Your eyes snapped to your phone, wide and alarmed, “Babe no, you don’t have to.”

“Honey.” Sabrina interrupted you, her voice stern, “You need me; I’m coming home.”

You went to speak again, but the words died on your tongue as you heard her speaking to someone in the background about booking the soonest flight. You knew how incredibly stubborn she gets when she sets her mind on something, and arguing with her about leaving wouldn’t benefit anyone; Naturally, you gave up.

“Okay…okay thank you. Still with me baby?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes, “Mhm.”

“I should be home around 1 or 2, okay?”

“Ok.”

“Alright, can you do something for me?”

You nodded again, a small yawn coming through your mouth as you spoke, “Yeeaah.”

Sabrina giggled, making you smile slightly at the sweet sound, “Think you could throw on one of my tour hoodies and try to sleep?”

You hummed, carefully pulling the covers back before heading into your closet to steal the cozy article she requested, immediately sighing when the smell of her perfume hit your nose after you put the hoodie on. It was soft, warm, and infected with her aroma, your brain melting to slush at the stimulation it produced.

“Okay, I’m wearing it.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you got back into bed, “…feel sleepy already…”

“That’s my girl, I’ll see you soon.” Sabrina replied softly, “I love you so much baby.”

“Mm…I love you too…” You whispered, now struggling to keep your eyes open as the hoodie was doing wonders for your insomnia.

“Sweet dreams my love.” Her voice sounded through the phone, your eyes falling shut at the sound of the line ending.

-------------

You groaned softly, peeling your eyes open to the sound of music playing softly downstairs. The sun was shining through your curtains, rays of light cast on the floor like angled pillars that of a coliseum.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, your head falling into your hands as you slowly woke up. You peeked an eye at your phone, seeing that the time was 3:30 in the afternoon, and started to stretch and exit your bedroom. A yawn fell from your lips; arms raised above your head with your eyes squeezed shut as you made your way downstairs towards the music. The sound of someone singing along filled your ears, a sweet and melodic voice that you knew all too well.

Once you round the corner, your heart skipped a beat from the sight. Sabrina stood at the counter, gently stirring a spoon in a saucepan while she swayed to the beat. Her hair was up in a ponytail, messily clawclipped together with her bangs settle just above her glasses. She was wearing one of your shirts, the oversized style completely swallowing her small figure like a dress, with a pair of fluffy pink socks covering her feet.

“Baby…” You whined, rubbing your hand over your eyes as you approached her.

She turned to you, a smile curved onto her lips from hearing you, “Hi beautiful.”

You grumbled something in response, the feeling of sleep still heavy on your body. She giggled at that, setting the spoon down and holding out her arms so you could fall into her. You burrowed yourself into her, your face falling to her neck as your arms went around her shoulders. She wrapped you up in her embrace, rubbing your back softly whilst leaving little kisses against your cheek.

“You’re home.” You mumbled, squeezing her gently, “Thought I was dreamin’.”

“Well, I am here! In the flesh.” Sabrina pressed her lips to your temple, “I missed you.”

Her nails ran up the back of your shirt, scratching gently at your skin. A low rumble sounded from your throat at the feeling, almost purring into her neck from her soft touch. She hummed at that, squeezing your abdomen before pulling back to cup your face.

You locked your eyes with hers, smiling softly when you noticed the subtle blush on her cheeks. She slid a little closer, her nose brushing your tentatively before you pulled her into a kiss. Your lips slotted into hers perfectly, soft, and long awaiting your attention from being away for so long. Fingers danced across her waist, squeezing and pulling her in as close as you could.

“Missed you too.” You murmured, nipping her bottom lip slightly as you pulled away, “Europe is too far; I’m going with you when you go back.”

Sabrina giggled, poking your stomach gently whilst nodding, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Long distance is always a struggle, but a few tears and some kisses does the trick; Fortunately, you have an amazing girlfriend who can do just that.

———————

honey? where’s my super suit?

[running-with-kn1ves]

I just finished that movie 'Companion; and its got me thinking.

Maybe you bought one of those fancy shmancy new bots out of interest, taboo fascination, and just a touch of loneliness. They were having such a steal of a deal too, renting them out for half price! So you buy it, and 15 days after ordering, your new bot shows up at your door in a big old steel box. A few folks from the company help set it up, giving you the handbook and telling you to have fun.

The set up is fairly easy, you pick a random day at a coffee shop for your bots first 'memory' of meeting you, all faint blushes and stumbling over stupid jokes. Its eyes open, a faint jade color as a default and unnatural to any human, but agonizingly beautiful on its face.

"Hey, you."

Its voice is like silk, not a hint of stiff speech or rigid consonants like the movies portray robots to be. Its skin is so soft, so willing to let you play and mess with it to all of your delight.

Days, weeks go by, and your bot has become something... human, to you. It's hard to treat it like a possession, not when its voice is so lifelike and kind towards you, only wanting to please. And it so very much wants to please you. They aren't violent from what you've been told. There's no capacity to kill within them. And yet-- more than once have you found crushed bits of sleeping pills foaming at the top of your coffee, your keys mysteriously hidden in the deep corners behind shelves, under the couch. It wasn't violent, and it certainly wasn't stupid.

"I just want to make you happy, you're always upset when you go outside. Stay here with me, please?"

It's hard to resist such a sweet voice, dragging you back to bed and using that ever permanent grin to lure you in. It was starting to affect your friendships, your job, hell even your cable was going out because you couldn't afford to pay for anything other than your damn bot.

But it treated you so gently, it loved you so purely for a good while, until it didn't. It's love wasn't soft forever, there were times when it could get... jagged. you played with the millions of settings on your phone, desperate to make its agonized screams stop as you tried to leave the house, none of the sliders working, All you could do was command it to go to sleep. But you felt awful doing it, and you always knew you'd just end up coming back, waking it up again to the same suffering cries. It may not have been violent in nature, but it was violent in its love.

You didn't know what to do-- if you returned it now, you wouldn't get a cent of your payment back, and the idea of being alone sounded worse than being with a clingy machine. So... you kept it. Told it to go to sleep whenever you prepared to leave, and nursed its frantic emotions when you came back. You were getting the handle of things, slowly.

It seemed like maybe you had figured it out, that maybe you could live and appease the obsessive creature. But finding yourself tied against your own mattress, quicky shattered those dreams.

"No need to go into work today, I called in sick for you."

In the palm of its hand, your phone with every setting for the bot, every little nitpick detail from intelligence to lust, was in its grasp.

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: angst, so much angst, grieving, talk about loss, softness, fluff, lots of feelings, smut implications at the end, thanks

wc: 11.6k

A/N: Welp, WELP, after so long, one of my main visions is finally written. Thank you @andvys for proofreading and correcting my grammar mistakessss. Sorry, I lied last chapter, next one is when the omegaverse omegaverses a bit... or did i lie?

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 25

You were restless. 

Your nails were between your lips as you paced your apartment, waiting for Eddie to message you back. You found out about the news through Steve, who messaged the entire group. Your heart plummeted to the depths of your stomach, and you didn’t know how to process the news. Tears ran down your cheeks before you could stop them, and the sadness shook all over your body. 

You messaged Eddie then, but you didn’t get any response. You waited and waited, and only a day later, he answered in the morning. 

‘I’m having the funeral now.’

Words could not be enough to express how you felt. He was there in Hawkins, alone, and you wanted to get into your car and drive those three hours to get to where he was so he wouldn’t be by himself. But you had to think clearly, not drastically. You told him to message you whenever he needed, and that he could call you at any time.

He didn’t.

You pushed your negative feelings towards Steve aside, bothering him every day to tell you if he knew anything about Eddie, or when he was going to return, but Steve was as clueless as you were. 

It had been a week since Wayne’s birthday, two since his funeral. You knew by now that Eddie liked to deal with these kinds of things alone, but you didn’t think he would leave Steve aside. Robin told you how distraught Steve was. He deeply cared for Wayne, too, and he was wrecked that he wasn’t attending his funeral. You felt sad for Steve because Wayne must have been like an uncle to him, a second family.

But Steve told you that he couldn’t be mad at Eddie for it. It wasn’t something easy, much less after everything they both went through together. He could visit Wayne’s grave later, and he was glad that the last memory he had of the old man was a red tint on his cheeks from the whiskey and a smile on his face. 

You should feel the same, but the worry for Eddie only kept growing the more you didn’t know about his whereabouts. Now, you were debating calling off from work in the next three days, needing to go find Eddie for yourself, at least ask him if he is okay, and leave. You didn’t need anything else. You just needed to know that Eddie was fine.

The week had been excruciating for you because you couldn’t focus on work. How could you? The man you have feelings for is not answering any of your texts, and he just lost his last family member. How could you be relaxed in a situation like that? Now Saturday, you hadn’t stopped thinking about Eddie a single second. Your stomach was in knots, screaming at you to do something, anything to make the nerves calm down. 

But what could you possibly do? 

Your phone started beeping, and you quickly took it out of your pocket to see Robin calling you. You gasped, answering in a hurried manner.

“Robs? Any news?” “We are coming to pick you up! Eddie is at home! We just passed by his house, and his car is there!” You sighed with relief, and you quickly rushed to grab your purse, your phone, and keys, not caring about anything else. Nothing else really mattered. You needed to make sure he was alive, and he was fine, and that he didn’t need anything else, at least for now.

“Okay! I’m heading down!” You hung up, feeling your heart thumping at your chest with desperation, and you rushed out of your house. You couldn’t even think straight or rationally; you just wanted to see Eddie. You had to see Eddie. There was this pull at your chest that was making you feel hopeless by not knowing where he was. You felt numb and empty after a week of complete radio silence.

It was an understandable situation, but he could at least tell you all that he was fine. He could tell you all when he was going to return or when he did, like now. You had passed by his house many times, and the day you didn’t, he returned. For fucks sake. 

You were out of your building, looking towards the street, your feet bouncing in place as you bit your bottom lip. The anxiety was overwhelming you, because if Eddie hadn’t talked to any of you about his comeback, it was because he definitely wanted to be alone. You wished you could let him have his privacy, but you were worried. Too worried, and Steve was too. 

You saw the BMW pulling up, rather quickly, and it stopped right in front of you with a slight screech. Robin moved her hands for you to get in, and you rushed into the backseat of the car. You felt your heart in your throat as you clung onto Robin’s headrest. 

Steve turned his head to look at you once before he started to drive. You had bags under your eyes, you looked spent, as if something had been sucked out of your body and left you limp. 

Your breathing was heavy as Steve drove, and you could hear Robin asking you if you were fine, but you kept shaking your head. You weren’t. You weren’t going to be until you knew what was going on with Eddie. The depths of your feelings were more than what you had thought, but it was not time to think about those right now. No.

You arrived at Eddie’s in record time, and Steve pulled the brake quickly, before unbuckling himself and getting out. You followed at the same speed, Robin right behind you two. You three rushed up the stairs, and you saw Steve deliberating whether to knock on the door or use the spare key in his hand. 

He decided to knock a few times, desperately. You were waiting expectantly outside, gulping as you three stood in front of the door.

“EDDIE! It’s us! We– We saw your car, we just want to make sure you’re okay!” Steve tried, and he waited for a bit, licking his lips as nervousness rushed all over his body. He cursed under his breath, looking at the key in his hand and–

The door clicked, and you held your breath in. Slowly, it opened, and Eddie stood on the other side. He looked… He looked void. Empty. A vessel made out of a human corpse. You frowned at the sight, not being able to hold back on your worry, on how your heart tugged in desperation of wanting to pull him into your arms.

Steve gulped as he stared at his friend, who had yet to look up at him. Robin grabbed your hand from behind Steve, silently telling you that she was here with you, and you couldn’t be more grateful because you felt as if your knees were about to break on you. 

“Eddie–” Steve talked, and Eddie had his hair down, wearing a white buttoned-up long-sleeved formal shirt and black dress pants. He never changed out of the funeral clothes. The mourning ones. It’s been two days. Your jaw clenched as you tried to look for his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at any of you.

“I’m alive.” He slowly stepped back, turning around to give his back to the three of you. You wanted to rush forward and hug him, but you knew that Eddie was vulnerable, very susceptible. You didn’t want to overstep the boundaries he probably had right now but– but fuck.

Steve was the first to slowly step in, and his heart clenched when he saw boxes inside Eddie’s home, one in particular with the word ‘Mugs’ on it. He knew that was Wayne’s collection, and Eddie had also done the moving of his stuff by himself. He wanted to curse at his best friend, but it wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the right moment.

You followed Steve, looking around with tears filling your eyes. You couldn’t help it. How could you when you knew the man you care for deeply might be suffering in silence? Your eyes fell back on Eddie’s back, seeing his hair cascading all over the white shirt. Steve licked his lips as he measured his words.

“We wanted… We wanted to make sure you were okay– We are here if you need us. You need to know that we are here.” He tried, trying to make Eddie budge, yet the man didn’t turn around. You felt your heart clench in pain as you looked at Steve, begging him to keep trying. Steve winced, gulping before he continued. “Eddie, please–”

“I want to do this alone. I will be fine in a few days. You guys don’t need to worry about me.” His voice was cold, emotionless. Your bottom lip trembled as you softly called out to him.

“Eddie…” You saw his body tensing slightly at your voice. You took a step forward, not caring for the boundaries anymore, but a hand over your chest stopped you. Steve was looking at you in pain, and you knew that he actually didn’t want to stop you, but he knew Eddie better than you did in this stuff. He knew how to handle Eddie when he became like this. 

Your foot slowly retreated, painfully so. You didn’t want to go. You wanted to run and hug him and take care of him. You wanted to hold him tight and comfort him. But you couldn’t do it if he didn’t open up to you, and you couldn’t make him do so. Steve also looked pained, but Robin put a hand on his shoulder for support, giving him a small comforting smile.

The brown haired man sighed, shaking his head a bit with a sigh. He admitted defeat as he looked down at the floor.

“At least try to message us back. Let us know you are alright. We are here if you need anything at all, Eddie.” With that, Steve turned around and looked at you with a frown. His words were not there, but it was enough for you to understand. ‘We can’t do more than this.’

It pained you. Your eyes filled with silent tears as you looked at Eddie, who didn’t turn around for a single second. You gulped and nodded, turning back around to finally leave with Steve and Robin. You felt defeated as you three walked to the door, and you should be happy with knowing he was here, alive, and breathing, but it wasn’t enough. You weren’t satisfied, you weren't relieved. You knew Steve felt the exact same, but the three of you couldn’t break the wall Eddie had built so easily. 

You were about to cross the front door, right after Robin, only to be stopped by a sudden pull.

Your eyes widened when you felt a rough hand grab onto your left one, tightly. You slowly turned around to see Eddie, getting closer to you as he pulled you towards him, his other hand joining his hold on you, as if to make sure you weren't going to slip away. Steve and Robin turned around, stunned, eyes wide as they looked at the interaction. 

“Peach…” It was silent, rough, and his eyebrows were meeting in the middle. Your heartstrings tightened at the sight, and Eddie’s body flushed against your side, like a puppy looking for comfort. 

You turned to look at Steve and Robin, and Steve’s eyes went back and forth between you and Eddie. You didn’t know what was going on through his mind, but Eddie was showing that he wanted you to stay. Only you.

“I’m… I’m staying here with him. I’ll keep you guys updated, okay?” You said softly, the hands around your left one tightening, silently begging you to hurry and come inside. Steve’s eyes drifted towards Eddie, who was looking at the top of your head, magnetized to you, in need of you. Steve’s jaw clenched, his words soft as he spoke to you.

“Okay. Take care of him, alright?” 

You were surprised by his words, not really expecting him to give you such a big green light after how he had been with you the past weeks. Robin smiled at you, giving you a nod.

“Tell me if you need anything from your apartment.” You gave her a nod, and she waved at you, walking down the stairs with Steve right behind her. The man turned around one last time at the bottom of the stairs, seeing you urging Eddie inside with soft words. The door closed, and Steve took a deep breath before going back to the car.

Inside the house, your instincts kicked in, your right hand grabbing onto his forearm to try to make him look at you. His eyes found yours, and you saw the ticking bomb that resided in them. You had to act fast. You needed to make it comfortable for him so he could rest, or better yet, let it all out.

“Eds, let’s go to your room, get you out of those clothes, and get into bed, okay?” You softly spoke, which Eddie nodded slowly. He never let go of your hand as you guided him upstairs. Once you two reached his room, you made him sit on the bed, kissing his hands so he could let go of yours. He reluctantly did so, and you moved towards the dresser to get some sweatpants out for him to wear. 

You walked towards him and started unbuttoning his shirt, then his cuffs, so you could pull it off his body. Fuck, was he thinner? Has he eaten in the past week? Worry ran over your body, but you kept it down with a gulp as you helped him remove his shoes and pants. It was not the time for any questions. As he put on the sweatpants, you took the opportunity to get yourself comfortable. You took off your own pants and shirt, and Eddie was not even looking at you as you did. You put on a shirt of his and grabbed his hands to guide him to the side of the bed, opening the blanket for him.

“Come on…” He moved at your command, slowly, but he got into the bed as his eyes searched for you. You pulled the blanket over him and rushed around the bed to get in on the other side.

Your heart was aching, and your instincts, your feelings, were talking for you. You moved a bit further up into the pillow, opening your arm as you reached for him with the other, “Come here…”

He slowly moved closer to you, and he almost looked as if he were in a state of shock. You realized that maybe he was. He definitely was. His head came in contact with your chest, and your arms wrapped around him, tightly. You wanted to sob, finally having him back in your arms, and you wished he wasn’t feeling like this. You wished that the circumstances were different because you didn’t want him to be in pain. You didn’t want him to hurt.

“Wayne.” He said as your hand ran over his hair, starting to gently rub as your chin pressed at the top of his head. Tears filled your eyes as you gave him a short nod.

“Yeah… Let it out, Eddie…” 

And his body started shaking, his arms wrapping around you like a vice, holding onto you for dear life. You clenched your eyes as you heard his first sob. Then another. Then loud cries of pain, of anguish, of loss. His nails were digging into your back, but you didn’t even feel them. You couldn’t care less. He needed this. He needed you. 

You have never thought you would hear him cry like this. Mouth open as he let out his sobs, his wails, his whimpers. You felt the front of your shirt dampen more and more each second that passed, and all you could do was hold him. You rocked him gently, trying to soothe him, but you never shushed him. You never tried to calm him down when all he needed was to cry.

Your throat was closed up as you tried to hold your own sobs in, but your tears fell freely. He cried and cried for what seemed like hours. Sob, through sob, and when you thought he had fallen asleep or calmed down, they started back up again. You held him through it, and your movements never stopped. Your hand running over his hair, the slight rocking of your body, your legs tangling with his, so he would feel your warmth all over his body.

You never once separated yourself from him.

Only when he fell asleep, you managed to slip away so you could wash your face and relieve yourself in the toilet. You took deep breaths as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, weighing your options. You couldn’t leave Eddie alone. Your body could not physically do it, even if your mind told you that you had to at some point. 

You had to make sure he ate, you had to make sure that he took care of himself, and you had to help him with everything he brought back from Hawkins. It wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, physically, and emotionally, and you knew that he would need support. You brushed your teeth before heading back into the bedroom, seeing Eddie clutching onto the blanket, his entire body in a ball position, all turned into itself.

Your heart ached, and you walked towards your phone to text Robin. You messaged her that everything was alright, but Eddie needed support. You told her to bring you some clothes for the day and for work, and necessities the next day, so you could stay at Eddie’s for as much as he needed. 

You went back into the bed, trying not to wake him up, but as soon as you got in, his body sought yours. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into his chest, and you sighed with delight, knowing that he was alright and in your arms. Your eyes closed instantly, and you let the darkness take you away, falling asleep to Eddie’s soft breaths.

The next day, you awoke first at 9 AM, untangling yourself from him so you could put on a pair of his shorts before heading downstairs. You looked around, seeing all the boxes, the suitcases, and you knew this was going to be a journey. This was going to be something tough, and you wondered if you could even do this by yourself. 

You decided to cook something and try to make Eddie eat before even tackling any conversation. You prepared some scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, and juice, taking your time to do so. You left your plate and your coffee on the kitchen’s island counter, and you bit your lip as you put all of that on a tray, praying to whatever god was up there not to let you fall down the stairs.

The tray clanked a bit as you walked slowly up the stairs, focusing on not letting anything drop or fall. You sighed with relief once you got to the top, moving towards the bedroom to see Eddie sitting up on his bed. His hair was disheveled from sleep. You two went to sleep rather early, and now it was 10:30 AM. 

“Hey, I made you some breakfast…” You softly spoke as you walked towards the bed, sat down next to him, and placed the tray of food on the bed. He looked at it, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, the scruff on his chin longer and unkept. His voice was rough and raspy, and you saw him gulp at the sight of food.

“Not really hungry, Peach…” 

“You gotta eat.” Eddie shot a glare your way, but you kept your stance, pointing at the food. “I made this for you.”

“So because you made it for me, I gotta eat it?” 

“Yes.” 

He fell silent for a second, but then he moved, placing the tray on his lap. He frowned for a second and then looked back up at you.

“Where’s yours?” He asked, and you pointed down.

“Downstairs, didn’t fit in the tray–” He crossed his arms over his chest and laid back on the headboard of his bed. Your mouth fell open, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Seriously? You aren’t going to eat?”

“If you bring your breakfast up here and eat with me, yes.” You couldn’t help but feel a little tug on your lips going upwards, finding this rather endearing than childish. 

“God, such a kid.” You got up from the bed and went back downstairs to get another tray and do another silent prayer before returning to the bedroom. Once you returned, he was still in the same position as before.

“So slow.” You shot a glare his way as you walked to the bed, sitting down next to him with the tray on your lap.

“Do you know how much balancing I have to do walking up the stairs with this?” He gave a chuckle. Just one. It was enough to make your hopes rise again, a small weight being lifted off your shoulders. It was a small win, but a win nonetheless. 

“Skill issue.” Was his short answer, and you saw how he started eating his food. He started slow, only to then start devouring it all. You held in a sigh of relief when you saw him finally ingesting something in his system, not really knowing when was the last time he did so. 

You ate in silence, inspecting his movements, inspecting the way he ate. You drank your coffee, and once it was all finished, you turned to look at Eddie, who was rubbing his eyes. Your heart clenched as you pushed the trays aside, getting up from the bed, rounding it to get to Eddie. Your hands reached for his, thumbs rubbing against the top of his palms.

“Come on, you want a bath or a shower?” He didn’t answer, so you gave him a small tug, making him groan.

“I don’t want to shower.”

“Well, you’re stinky. So a bath it is.” You let go of his hands to go to the bathroom to get the bath ready. You made it not too hot like you would have liked it, knowing Eddie takes colder showers. You waited for the bath to fill up, hearing Eddie’s steps coming towards the bathroom. You turned to look at him, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit broken by looking at him in this state. You wanted to fix it, to make it better, and you were hoping that you were.

You stood up as the sound of the water splashing in the tub filled the room, the bit of steam making it warm up. The shampoo and conditioner were all there for him to use, but he didn’t make a move to take his pants off. You tilted your head, knowing he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t doing so. But you knew what he needed. 

Your hands came to rip the shirt off your body, as well as taking your pants off. His eyes moved to find yours, and he shook his head slowly, grabbing your hand to stop you from taking your underwear off as well.

“It’s cold for you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle a bit of cold.” You were happy he remembered how you liked the temperature of your water, but for him, you would dip yourself in the Arctic Ocean. He needed you right now. You weren’t going to let temperatures or commodities get in between you and him. 

You two got in the bath together, and you made sure not to wet your hair, not wanting to wash it just yet, but you helped Eddie wash his. As you rubbed the shampoo into his hair, you could hear sniffles coming from him, and you let him cry. You heard him take deep breaths as if to try to calm himself down a couple of times, but the sniffles came back. When you faced him to wash his face, tears were streaming down his cheeks, breaking your heart. He looked at you almost helplessly, and you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and never let go. Not even for a second.

But the water turned colder and colder, and you had to. You got out first, wrapping a towel around your body. He got out and wrapped one as well around his waist, before grabbing another one for his hair. You snatched it from his hands, making him raise an eyebrow your way.

You didn’t say a word as you walked out of the bathroom and then into the bedroom. You sat down on the edge of the bed, and you nodded towards the floor. Eddie immediately understood and sat down at your feet. You dried his hair with the towel, rubbing your hands all over and shaking it, making a few chuckles escape him as well as some winces. 

The day went on, and you prepared lunch for the two of you. Some quick pasta, but you told Eddie that you two had to eat something healthy at night, so you would have to go out and get groceries. 

“Please, don’t…” He winced at his own words, at his own plea. He didn’t want you to leave, but maybe he felt selfish by requesting this from you. You bit your lip and nodded, grabbing his hand over the counter.

“Okay, Robin is coming over just to bring me some clothes and things. I’ll tell her to go to the market to get me some food. I’m staying here until you kick me out, Munson.” You tried saying in a lighthearted manner, but his grip on your hand tightened, and then, his lips found your temple. Your heart burst into flames in your chest, and you hummed in appreciation.

“Thank you…” 

When Robin came by a few hours later, she tried asking a few things, but mostly if there was anything else she could do, as well as Steve. The others have been wanting to reach out to Eddie as well, but it seemed as if everyone knew that all he needed was time. You thanked Robin, closing the door and walking to the couch with her bag of clothes. 

He had a photo album on his lap as ‘The Office’ played in the background. He looked up at you when he heard the zip of the bag, and you scrunched up your nose at the clothes your best friend picked up for you. 

“God damnit, Robin.” He tilted his head, trying to look over to see what the problem was.

“What is it?”

“Let’s say that she grabbed the first things she saw out of my work clothes drawer and stashed them inside this bag.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I will have to get some clothes before going to work tomorrow–” 

And you heard his breath hitch. Your eyes found his, and he looked lost, desperate, as if he wanted to say something. Your heart clenched tightly in your chest, the pit of your stomach just becoming hollow. You sighed, getting your phone out of your back pocket, texting your boss. Eddie snapped out of his shock, so it seemed, and he stuttered as he spoke to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a sec.” You asked as you waited for your boss to answer to you. Eddie was really your demise, wasn’t he? Your phone dinged, and you nodded, sitting down next to him. “Okay, I’m not going to work this week.”

His eyes widened, shaking his head at you.

“You have the training, your boss is going on leave soon–”

“And I am an impeccable worker who has no job left undone. I told her I needed to take care of a personal matter that might take a while, regarding a loss.” You brushed a stray hair that fell on the side of his face, putting it behind his ear. “It’s fine.”

You gave him an encouraging smile, and he was just looking at you as if you weren’t even there. As if you were a figment of his imagination. You opened your mouth to talk again, but both his hands came up to cradle your cheeks, and then his lips came to rest on top of yours, tenderly and very softly.

Your body got goosebumps all over, electricity running through your entire spine that made everything feel more intense than before. It was the first kiss he gave you after he came back from Hawkins, the first kiss after his Uncle’s birthday party. The world was silent around you two, and when he pulled away, his lips still hovering over yours, you knew you couldn’t be free of Eddie. Not anymore.

“Thank you… Thank you so much, Peach…”

Three days passed, and Eddie started to slowly come back to himself. 

You helped him clean the house, fix the schedule for his shop, and even went to get groceries with him. You wondered what Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle thought of you staying in his house, or maybe they didn’t even know you were there. 

Steve had been messaging you all this time, asking you to keep him updated on Eddie’s health and how he was acting. It broke your heart knowing Steve wanted to be there for his best friend as well, but Eddie was making no moves on inviting more people over or getting out of the house to do so. 

But you were completely thrown back when he stood next to you as he dried the glasses you finished cleaning in the sink.

“I’ll invite Steve over today. I want him to help me sort out… the boxes.” You were almost wide-eyed in surprise when you heard that. The boxes were the one thing you dreaded the most, knowing how hard that would be for Eddie, but now, your chest filled with warmth, knowing he wanted to do it with his best friend. 

You nodded in agreement, kissing his bicep as he let out a sigh of what seemed like relief. You turned off the water, drying your hands on a kitchen cloth.

“You want me out for that?” You asked, and his head whipped quickly your way, a frown forming in his eyebrows. He looked almost comical, but you held the giggle back.

“No. You are not allowed to leave.” You scoffed, shaking your head at him.

“I should call the police, I’m being held hostage.” You joked, and he dropped the cloth with a slam on the counter, and his arms came to wrap tightly around your waist, making you giggle in surprise as he raised you, lifting you in the air, smiling up at you. Your feet kicked as he walked towards the living room. “Okay, put me down!”

“Nope, I want you to fully give your vocal consent, you're staying out of your own free will.” You giggled as his arms were still tightly wrapped around you, and you saw his smile as you tried to wiggle yourself free from his grasp. 

“Fine, fine! I’m staying out of my own free will! I’m not being held hostage!” He gave a huff of approval before putting you down on the ground again. You were pouting at him, and he shook his head, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Don’t pout at me.” His phone gave a small ding, and he pulled it out, not hiding the screen from you, which only made you feel proud. You saw it was Steve, responding to Eddie’s text. “He is free today.”

You gave him a nod, and you saw how he hesitated on typing the message out. His thumb was over the letters, and your hands squeezed his waist in encouragement. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before his thumb started moving. ‘Will you come over to help me out with Wayne’s boxes?’

You knew that simple text was a lot for Eddie. You could hear his breathing becoming shaky, and you waited right there with him for Steve’s response. His eyes were not moving away from his phone screen, while yours were not moving away from him. Once Steve agreed to come over, you saw Eddie sigh in relief, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“So, he’s coming?” Eddie looked at you, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he opened his mouth, but you quickly covered it with your hand, glaring at him. “Can you not make it dirty?”

“I ws–fnna–say, he isff.” He mumbled into your palm, and you nodded, taking it away from him. “But who knows, maybe he was busy before and that’s why he took some time to answer–”

You left his side, turning instantly, acting as if you were fed up with his commentary, but deep down, you were grateful his comedic side was coming back up. He was slowly returning to himself, but you were still taking care of his actions. He sometimes zoned out or took a while in the shower, more than he was accustomed to. But the jokes started back up this morning, when he woke up and told you that you farted in your sleep.

He said it with a laugh, so you don’t really know if it was the truth or not, and even in your embarrassment, you were happy to see that cheeky smile on him again. 

Now, another kind of situation was coming up, which was the fact that Eddie did not want you to leave despite Steve coming over. You weren’t sure how that conversation was going to turn out, but you still hoped that Steve being here would help Eddie as well. Your thoughts were cut off when two strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you close to a chest, tightly.

“I said you were not allowed to leave.” He said, mimicking a growl. You giggled, shaking your head, rolling your eyes at his attitude.

“Definitely held hostage.”

“Fine, guilty as fucking charged, Peach.” And then he bit your neck, gently, but it was enough to send a shiver all over your body, goosebumps rising on your skin, hair standing on your arms. Your belly flipped over, and you couldn’t help but feel so blissful despite the situation. 

“What are you? A vampire?” 

“Vleh, vleh, vleh.” You snorted before starting to laugh hysterically. He loved Hotel Transylvania from the moment you two watched it together by chance. You just selected something random while having breakfast together one time, and he got hooked. He laughed, and he told you to never tell anyone that he liked a cartoon movie that much.

A little secret, one of the many, that you two shared together. 

An hour later, the doorbell rang. Your heart got out of your throat a bit as you knew this was going to be awkward for the two of them. You wondered if you really should be here or not. Eddie asked you not to, but you couldn’t help but believe that you weren’t supposed to. You were preparing some snacks, knowing that fixing up and arranging what’s inside the boxes would take a while. Doing these kinds of things always took someone down memory lane.

Eddie walked down the stairs, drying his wet curls with a small towel, grunting on each step. You frowned, turning your head, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What’s with the grunting?”

“He has a spare key! Why do I have to open the door?” You shook your head and turned your head to keep cutting the carrots as Eddie opened the door, revealing Steve Harrington on the other side, looking like always, but you knew he wasn’t in an extremely cheery mood. 

“I heard you, Munson. Don't know if you remember, but last time I barged in, I caught you and someone else in a little predicament.” Steve rolled his eyes, and you winced in shame. You could see how he stood there for a second, his hand moving on his side, as if he were in pain. Your heart ached, knowing Steve probably wanted to hug Eddie, to give and seek comfort. Eddie stepped out of the way, walking back inside to let Steve in.

Your eyes locked with his as he finally spotted you in the kitchen. You noticed the tension, not knowing how to act with one another. You weren’t Eddie’s girlfriend, and Steve didn’t seem to enjoy the idea of that when he found out about you two together, to the point of making Eddie doubt continuing this friends-with-benefits situation. 

He walked over to you and patted you on the shoulder, surprising you slightly.

“You alright?” He called your name, and you nodded a bit, handing him a carrot, which he took before dipping it into the cream cheese and taking a bite.

“Yeah, you?” You noticed how he didn’t respond to you for a few seconds, as if debating his answer. He then gave you a slow nod as his eyes followed Eddie heading to the boxes. He looked at you and then gave a little jerk of his head in Eddie’s direction. He was asking you about his best friend. You gave a thumbs up, followed by a small shrug. He was okay, but that can be very volatile.

Steve nodded and walked towards his best friend, looking down at the first box. You stood in the kitchen, looking over at them as they talked, starting to pull stuff out of it. It was Wayne’s cutlery, which wasn’t much, and not really that fancy, but they were used with love and care. Steve grabbed onto the penguin wine jar, lifting it up.

“I will never understand this purchase.” Eddie scrunched up his nose, looking at it as Steve showed it off. 

“Me neither… But man, did we use it.” You heard Eddie say, and Steve smiled a bit, putting it on the coffee table. You took a bite out of a chip, and the crunch made Eddie snap his head your way. He made a grabby hand at you, and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the bowl and walking towards them. 

He grabbed a handful and shoved the chips in his mouth, and you smacked him over the head. Steve snorted at the action, turning his head to hide his laughter at Eddie’s shocked face, slowly turning to look at you.

“Gentle, jesus fucking christ.” You shook your head, putting the bowl on the coffee table as well, so they could keep munching. You looked down into the box, spotting something shiny. You reached down, getting hold of it, pulling it out, and– Eddie and Steve started cracking up while you scrunched your nose at it. 

In your hand was a paper weight in the form of a tit. Nipple and all. You turned to Eddie and you showed it to him, making him cover his eyes as he laughed, as if remembering stuff when seeing it after so long.

“I can’t believe he held onto that shit.” Eddie coughed out, and Steve shook his head, wiping a tear that threatened to fall down.

“I can’t believe it either.” You were still looking at the fake breast in your hand, which was also quite heavy. Eddie calmed down, the smile still on his lips. He gently got hold of it and inspected it as he turned it over a few times.

“I gifted this to him with my first pay. I thought it was just going to be left as a joke… but he kept it.” Your frown fell immediately as he looked at the object in his hand. Steve also stopped laughing, yet his smile didn’t leave his lips. He returned to pulling things out of the box, and you opted to sit down on the couch, letting the men do it, feeling like you were inserting yourself in a moment that belonged to them only.

Items and some little pieces of furniture started coming out of the boxes, one by one, each with a small story from Eddie’s part, and sometimes, Steve would join in. Some of them didn’t have anything to tell, but others were kept in their hands for minutes as they laughed and talked, inspecting the item over and over again.

You then saw the most dreaded box being opened. The ‘Mugs’ one. For some reason, you felt like this was the one box you shouldn’t be present for. You slowly got up, and you were unnoticed as you walked up the stairs slowly, leaving the two men alone. You sat at the very top, listening to the stories Eddie told with each cup he pulled out, finding new information and new memories you didn’t know about.

Steve laughed at a few, telling Eddie how they always looked silly to him, and Eddie couldn’t agree more with him. But then, there was silence. You blinked a few times, not hearing anything at all, until finally– sniffles. Harsh breaths.

You hunched down a bit, trying not to make a sound to peek from the top of the stairs, and there you saw Steve, holding Eddie tightly against him. You pressed your hand to your chest as your eyes filled with tears. Eddie held onto Steve, his face buried in his shoulder as he cried. Steve wasn’t far behind, hearing a few of his small sobs and sniffles.

“I miss him.” Eddie confessed, as if no one really knew that. Steve nodded, and his arms tightened around his best friend.

“Yeah, I know. I know, Eddie. Me too.” Steve’s voice was broken, and you felt your own tears sliding down your cheeks as you listened to them from afar.

“I should have let you come to the funeral, I shouldn’t have–”

“You couldn’t. It’s okay, I know. You were in shock, it’s alright.” You took a deep breath in, deciding to leave them alone. You walked towards the bathroom to wash your face. You took deep breaths in as you held onto the sink, trying to center yourself. You were happy Eddie could be with his best friend, that he finally let himself be vulnerable in front of someone else. He probably needed Steve, he just didn’t realize how much.

You waited for a few more minutes, deciding to go to the bedroom to change the sheets for new ones. Then you scrolled on your phone for a while, texting Robin about Steve being there at Eddie’s. She replied she knew. She asked if there was any news or if you had talked with Eddie, but it was not the time. You weren’t going to bombard him with the ‘What are we?’ question. He needed you, and that was it, whatever that meant.

You heard a loud thump downstairs, making you sit straight up on the bed, followed by Steve’s insane laughter. You got up from the bed, rushing down the stairs only to see Eddie face down on the floor, his legs over a box he tripped over. You immediately cracked up at the sight, and you heard a grunt of pain coming from him, his hands slowly moving to press against the floor to pull himself up and glare at the both of you.

“You assholes, can’t you help me instead of laughing at me?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you. His eyes were red from crying, but you weren’t going to point it out, nor Eddie’s red nose, be it from the fall or the crying. You smiled cheekily at Steve, shaking your head, both of you speaking at the same time.

“Nah.” 

“Wow, I thought you were going to at least be better than him, Peach.” He groaned as he got up, wincing as he rubbed his right elbow. You giggled as you walked towards him, getting hold of the elbow yourself as he pouted.

“Aw, did you do a boo boo?” Eddie only glared at you, but you didn’t miss the hint of a smile on his lips as he spoke.

“I’m gonna cause one to you as well if you don’t stop making fun of poor ol’ me.” You mocked him, still rubbing onto his elbow tenderly, something that Steve didn’t miss.

“If you don’t stop making fun of poor ol’ me, blah, blah, blah.” Your voice was nasal, and a finger of his came to poke your side, making you flinch away with a giggle. Steve just stood there, looking and inspecting every movement, but you didn’t care.

“Let’s go buy those shelves for the mugs, we need somewhere to put them.” Steve said, and Eddie turned his head, nodding. Your head turned towards the kitchen counter, seeing all the collected mugs there. 

The Garfield one was the one that stuck out the most.

Saturday.

And everyone was at Eddie’s. Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Robin, Argyle, and Eden. Finally, Eddie agreed to see the rest of the group, letting them come over to his house for drinks. The mugs were now on shelves at the top of Eddie’s TV, and putting them up was actually a mess, and it got Steve to bandage his index finger because he missed a nail with the hammer. 

But now they were up there for everyone to see. Nancy had a private talk with Eddie when she arrived, and immediately the two of them went up to his room. When she came back down, her eyes were reddened, as well as Eddie's. Not as bad as the past few days, but it was a relief to see him back to himself, and this time, you could say, entirely.

“He seems fine.” Robin said with a smile, and you nodded, looking at Eddie talking to Argyle, who was going on about opening his own pizza place down in the city. You smiled fondly, seeing his own on his lips. Everyone came over not to talk about what happened to him, not really dismissing it either, but rather be there to bring a smile to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, it was a rough week… He really didn’t want to be alone.” Robin nodded, putting an arm around your shoulder, her voice lowering as she swirled the whiskey and coke glass she had in her hand.

“He didn’t want YOU to leave… cause he let Steve go easily that day…” She took a sip of her drink as you looked down at your beer bottle. “You still think there’s no chance? At this point, I think you’re joking.”

“It wasn’t the appropriate time to have that conversation, Robs.” You pointed out and she nodded, murmuring an ‘I know, I know’. 

“Nancy suspects it, you know.” She confessed, and your eyes widened, looking at her. “Eddie sent a picture to her yesterday, and she spotted your jacket in the hanger. I tried telling her it might be the jacket from someone else, that yours isn’t one of a kind–”

“Fuck, but Robs, it is. She knows it.” The blue denim jacket with the Dior brand on the back. It was a gift from Liana, made specifically for you, for helping her with one of the contracts. It was done with embroidery, something you really like on clothes. Your eyes turned to look at Nancy, who was talking with Jonathan and Eden, smiling as they blabbered. Shit.

“I didn’t know if she would remember or not. She is giving Eddie the benefit of the doubt…” You felt guilt wash over you as you closed your eyes, sighing, taking a sip of your beer. “She is not going to be mad, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“How do you know?” You turned your head to look at her, and she shrugged, smiling at you.

“Cause she looked happy and excited when she saw it.” You blinked a few times, frowning as your eyes turned to look at Steve, who was preparing himself a drink at the kitchen counter in the corner. Another close friend of Eddie was happy that if he were dating someone, that would be you… So why not Steve?

“Well… Bet she will be mad at Eddie for not telling her, though.” Robin thought for a second and then nodded once.

“Yeah, that might happen.” Eddie’s eyes locked with yours after Argyle walked towards Steve to steal his drink, and then you saw him look at Robin, a frown forming on his eyebrows. You tilted your head in question as he walked towards you both, taking a sip of the beer in his hand.

“And what are you two ladies talking about?” He asked, and you opened your mouth to say something, but Robin interrupted immediately.

“About having some balls for once and doing what you feel… shit like that.” Your eyes widened as your head snapped to look at her as if she were crazy. Eddie’s eyes fell on Robin’s arm over your shoulders, and then looked down at you.

“Having balls? To do what?” Your mouth opened and closed for a few seconds, and then you felt Robin retract herself from you, humming as she walked over to Nancy.

“I have no idea, I guess about Argyle.” Eddie looked at you for one more second before giving a slow nod. His free hand came to scratch the back of his neck as he took a deep breath in.

“Um… You’re staying tonight again, right?” He asked, almost shyly, as if you would say no to him. You squinted a bit at him, acting as if you were annoyed.

“Wasn’t this a hostage situation?” He glared at you for a second before turning his head, looking around. You frowned, moving your head to see what he was looking at, only for him to turn back quickly and peck your lips, almost painfully, thanks to the force of it. You reeled back, putting your hand over your mouth. “What are you doing!?” 

“They weren’t looking, Peach. But yes, you’re staying.” Your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you in a way you didn’t quite know how to describe. Your body was lit on fire, the need to hold him rushing back into your veins like a bull stampede, and you blamed the small bit of alcohol for it. The half beer you drank. 

You two didn’t touch each other that way all week. It was just a lot of holding one another close, cuddling to sleep, watching TV, kissing every now and then, but never getting to the next level of it. It didn’t feel right to do so, and there was no need.

But tonight that need came back.

And you felt it on him, too. You felt it in the room, even with all your friends in it. There was this feeling, this intuition that something was happening tonight for the two of you, and your body was already shaking with anticipation. You wanted everyone in the room gone, immediately, but you knew you couldn’t do that. 

So you two went back to the rest of the people as if nothing had just happened, acting as if you arrived at his house before everyone else did. Your eyes kept clashing with his, the tension only rising the more time passed. You tried paying attention to Jonathan, talking to you about his new cocktails in the bar, you tried paying attention to Eden talking about how she is about to graduate in Computer Engineering, but you kept being drawn back to him, like a magnet.

Two hours later, the people started to slowly leave the house, the last ones being Steve, Robin, and Nancy. How were you going to lie to Nancy? What was your excuse for staying? Should you act like you were leaving? Should you say you were gonna go to the toilet before heading out?

“You’re staying to help Eddie clean, right?” Her voice interrupted, and her eyes were on you, a smile on her lips. She knew. She wasn’t doubting. She wasn’t suspecting it. 

“Y-Yeah, I think so…” You responded as Eddie put an arm around your shoulders, showing off the amount of cups and snacks on the tables and counters with his free hand, as if presenting a masterpiece. You groaned at the display, whining as you pouted. “You all are a fucking mess, it’s literally just eight people. How can eight people do this!?”

“We’re animals, sweetheart.” You heard Nancy’s giggle, making you turn your head to see her looking at Eddie for a few seconds before grabbing Robin’s hand. Steve glanced at the both of you, but mostly, his eyes were on Eddie. You turned to look at him, only to find him staring down at you, making your stomach knot into itself.

“Well, off we go. I’m tired as fuck, and my finger is hurting again.” Steve snapped you out of your trance, making you look at him. You nodded while he gave a wave before walking out. Robin winked your way, and Nancy was still smiling as the door closed behind her.

And now, it was just you and Eddie. 

You felt your heart about to kill you from how fast it was beating. It felt as if a bomb was ticking uncontrollably now, close to detonation. You felt his arm leave your shoulders, making you look up at him. He was smiling innocently, pulling his sleeves up towards his elbows.

“Well, time to start cleaning.” Your mouth fell open, and you huffed, shaking your head. You didn’t want to clean. Not tonight. You walked towards the kitchen island counter and hopped on, crossing your arms and legs while frowning at him. He was still smiling, mimicking your arms, crossing them over his chest.

“I don’t want to clean.”

“Oh, and what does little Peach want to do, hm?” He was teasing you, testing you, and you could feel the tension slowly build up in the room, the more he stared at you. 

“Sleep.” You absolutely did not want to sleep, but even if you did feel like tonight you two might do something more than just mere touches and kisses, you didn’t want to push Eddie into it. His smile faltered slightly, and he let out a sigh, shaking his head and walking over to the other counter to start throwing the cans and bottles into the trash.

“Yeah, I guess cleaning can wait till tomorrow.” His voice was slow, making you uncross your arms from your chest as well as your legs, frowning as you stared at his back. “It was nice seeing everyone today.”

Your heart warmed up at his words, and you nodded, not caring that he couldn’t see you right now.

“It was… Was Nance… mad that she couldn’t visit you before?” You were testing him to see if he would tell you what had happened with Nancy in his room. Maybe she did confront him about you two, but by his shrug, you assumed she didn’t.

“Oh, not exactly… More like, disappointed… Told me I was an idiot for thinking I was alone in this and all…”

“But you aren’t alone. You know that.” And he went silent for a second, his movements stopping, and you felt a chill running down your spine, as if it knew that something was changing in the air right now.

“Yeah… I’m not alone anymore… Especially not with you… Right, Peach?”

He slowly turned to face you, and your breath was knocked out of your lungs as your face started heating up. He looked so serious, yet it didn’t look threatening or anything like that. It was just a serious face for a serious conversation. Your eyes averted, not being able to contain the nerves that slowly invaded you, looking at your lap.

“I… Define ‘Especially not with you’.” You wanted to know if what he meant was more than physical. If what he meant was more than just two bodies finding pleasure with one another. If what he meant was more than just getting together to satisfy each other, and that was it. 

He gulped, and you saw him take a deep breath in, making you look up at him again. He was still looking at you, his eyes never leaving your face. His hand came to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous tick you know he had by now. He was nervous. Eddie was nervous.

“I think it’s time for the two of us to have that talk.” Your world stopped. Oh, fuck. Your breathing quickened a bit, and your chest felt heavy as you felt sweat on your fingertips. Your nerves were causing havoc inside of you, and you were becoming a wreck by the second. The only way for you to maneuver over this topic was comedy.

“You’re making it sound like… It’s the end of the world.” Probably not the best joke. Not one that should be done in a moment like this, but you felt like the entire world was watching you two right now, waiting for the next move. Eddie looked at you, shaking his head, taking a deep breath in before he began talking.

“Peach… What we do it’s not something normal friends with benefits do.” Your heart was already plummeting to the floor. Have you read the signs wrong? Have you gotten hopeful for nothing? 

“I– Well, I do know that…” Your eyes were locked with his, and time stood still for a few seconds before he took a step towards you, making the hairs on your arms stand up.

“You know this is not just… that then. Right?” 

The air got knocked out of your lungs. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Were you understanding wrong? You couldn’t disguise the desperation that lingered in your voice when you talked, feeling a lump starting to form in your throat, and you felt so stupid for becoming emotional, but– Fuck, it’s been months.

“I– What is it, then?” Eddie got taken aback by your words, his eyes showing nervousness as he took more steps your way, closing the distance, slowly.

“Peach, I think you know…” His hands finally came to touch your knees, looking at them for a few seconds as he deliberated his next words. “I— I need to know if we’re on the same page right here because–”

His jaw clenched, and you felt like you were soaring into the sky, not realizing you weren’t answering him, not even moving towards him. He was right there for you, for the taking. He was here, and he was confessing himself to you. You weren’t wrong. Robin was right. This was happening. He was happening. Due to your lack of response, he kept talking,

“I have to leave if you aren’t, Peach. I need to walk out of it before I–” And your eyes widened, your hands finding his in a rushed manner, and your legs opened to push him close to you, for him to get in between as you shook your head desperately. No. No. No. He can’t walk away from you. No.

“No– No… I’m–” Fuck, why are you so choked up? Why can’t you talk properly? Why? He just stood there, his head tilting in question. You wondered if his heart was about to explode in the same way yours was about to.

“You?” You closed your eyes as you gulped down the lump as best as you could.

“I– Fuck, you should know how I feel about you now, I– By the way I act, or– What I do…” You cringed at your words, shit. This wasn’t romantic at all. This wasn’t the amazing confession you had rehearsed in your mind a thousand times, and now that it’s here, you were acting poorly.

He wasn’t answering, so you looked up at him, his serious face slowly turning into a cheeky smile, his dimples showing off your way. You frowned slightly, wondering why he was smiling like that, even if it made your breath stutter.

“I know. I can read people like the back of my hand, remember? I just wanted you to say it out loud. Admit you are crazy for me and all that.” 

Your mouth fell open at his words, frowning in slight annoyance. Why would he play with you like that? He knew? He knew about your feelings all along? He knew how he made you feel, yet never said anything or acted upon it? Or well, maybe he was, just now how you expected, but still. You pressed your hands on his chest and pushed him slightly, away from you, which he only stumbled back one step.

“You dick! I hate–” 

Your words were cut off instantly when two rough hands came to cradle your cheeks, pulling you into a deep kiss that stole every breath and word away. A kiss that you knew was not like the others because you could feel it in every movement and in the way he held you. His body flushed against yours, and your hands moved to grip his waist, feeling your cheeks burning with happiness, with nervousness, with embarrassment.

One of his hands went to the back of your neck to pull you even deeper into the kiss. He groaned a bit into your lips as you two moved in a dance you had been rehearsing for months now. He was holding your head as if he were holding a treasure, holding you just like he held that Garfield mug. 

You could feel the heat coming off of him; the more he kissed you, the more it all intensified. His shirt was crumpling under your fists as you tried to move him closer, but it was impossible at this point. Your mind was turned into mush, the world around you was nonexistent, and it was just him. Everything was him.

His lips slowly separated from you with a smack, his breath hitting your lips as he kept stealing pecks. He was almost agitated, desperate, vulnerable.

“I like you, Peach…” Another kiss that detonated your poor heart, along with his words. Those words you were expecting to hear at one point, hoping that they were at all there. “Fuck, I– I really fucking like you…”

You didn’t know if you were breathing. It all felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real just because of how perfect it was, how perfect it felt to have your feelings be reciprocated in this manner, with the same intensity. But he had to know it too. You had to come back to your senses. You had to find your voice again.

“I really like you too, Eddie…” He smiled against your lips, prompting you to do it as well, a joyous giggle escaping you before he kissed you again. The hand behind your neck moved to cradle your other cheek once again. He pulled away, his eyes looking for your hazy ones as you two breathed heavily.

“Say you’re mine…” His eyes showed an intensity like never before, and you were still in awe at the whole situation. He gulped, scanning your face as he waited for your answer. “I need to hear it… I need to hear you say you’re mine and mine only, sweetheart.”

You didn’t know why there was any need for that. He should know it. He should know you were his and have been his for a long while now. But maybe he wanted to hear it from you. And you would comply, because either way, it was the truth.

“I’m yours, Eds… Just yours…” He smiled widely, and you thought you saw him tremble, before he pulled your face in for another searing kiss. You felt your eyes fill up with tears, but you weren’t going to fight them this time. There was no need to fight against your feelings anymore.

“Hell yes…” He cheered onto your lips, making you chuckle as he kept kissing you, never stopping. You wanted to know, too. You wanted to hear him say it too. You pulled away from the kiss, but your lips never stopped brushing his.

“What about you?” His eyes found yours, and you’ve never seen him looking down at you this way. It felt as if you were his entire world right now. Was it conceited to believe that? Was it too much to think that way? He gave a huff before talking, his voice low, rough, yet deep with emotion.

“I’m yours, Peach… I’m all yours.” His hands now wrapped tightly around your entire frame as yours wrapped around his shoulders. You could feel him rubbing your back as he kissed you again, sealing the confession. You were on cloud nine, or on another planet, from how light you felt. The nerves were still there, the turning in your stomach was still happening, but now it was for another reason entirely.

Happiness.

You were so happy. You could feel it in him too, as he kissed you, deepening the kiss after a while. His tongue danced with yours as his hips clashed against you, eliciting some small moans against his lips. The temperature around you was quickly building up, and all you wanted was to hold him in the most intimate of ways. This would be different from all those other times. This was going to be completely different.

His hands moved downwards towards the back of your thighs. You felt him grip you tightly before he did a little hop and moved away from the counter, making you gasp through the kiss and cross your legs around his waist. You pulled away from the kiss as he chuckled, walking towards the stairs. Your eyes widened, shaking your head, yet a smile was on your lips.

“I swear, Eddie, if you drop me on the stairs–”

“I am not going to drop you, Peach!” He walked while carrying you as if you were feather light. If he was putting in any effort, he was not showing it. You clung to him as you whined at each step he took on the narrow staircase. “I carried Steve up here once. Princess style.”

“What!?” Your head snapped to look at him, and he was smiling, nodding as he finally reached the top.

“He was blasted off drunk, and he couldn’t help me at all. The couch was taken by Nancy, so I had to make due. She didn’t want to sleep in my bed.” You rolled your eyes, your teeth nipping on his jaw, making him groan your way.

“I wonder why… Slut.” His eyes widened, looking at you for a few seconds as if he couldn’t believe what you had just called him. Your heart was too joyful to care about the consequences of your comment, and he glared at you before smirking.

“You’re calling me a slut, huh?” And just like that, you were thrown onto the bed, making you squeal as you bounced against the mattress. He was instantly crawling on top of you after he took his shoes off. He was smirking, and there was lust in his eyes, lots of it, but something else resided in them now, something more tender. “Guess I have to remind you just how bad of a slut you turn for me, Peach.” 

He was dirty-talking to you, but there was another tone to it. It was still the same volume, the same vibrato, the same rough, lustful implication, yet it was different. Everything was different. 

From the way that he kissed you stupid into the bed, from the way he undressed you, from the way he kissed down your entire body, from the way he didn’t hold back when marking you this time. He left hickies on your neck, on your sides, on your legs, and with these, you knew everything was actually real. It was happening. Eddie was marking you as yours. 

So you did the same. 

When you got on top of him, you made sure to mark him in the same manner, and he didn’t stop you, nor complain. In fact, it was as if Eddie was more vocal than before. He kept calling your name, over and over and over. He called you ‘Baby.’ You kissed him all over, his nose, his cheeks, his collarbones, his chest, and his legs, just everywhere. 

You rode him as he held you close, kissing your neck, nibbling in between the crook of it and your shoulder. His forehead was sweaty as you two moaned and groaned against each other. Calling one another's names over and over again.

You fluttered around him as he kissed your neck, then your shoulder, and you climaxed when he sucked on your skin, marking you up again. He tipped over the edge just a second after you did, and he was left looking at you, still holding you close to him as you straddled his hips.

“My girl.” You smiled breathlessly at the nickname, and he moved the two of you, laying you down on the bed without moving from inside of you. He kissed the tip of your nose, then your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin as if he were to bite down, pressing himself even deeper inside of you, making you choke on your breath. “Mine…”

You felt emotional, tears threatening to fill your eyes as you held him close to you. Nothing could compare to this moment. You were his, and he was yours. After this, there would be no more hiding, no more secrets, and you could go out in public, be like this with your friends, around strangers, finally introducing Eddie to your mom. You could barely believe it.

“Yours… Just yours, Eddie…”

Finally.

end of chapter 25

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[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @teddywesworl! teddywesworl has 17 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@dame-zoom-a-lot recommends the following works by teddywesworl:

Dissonance Theory

A Gem Beyond Counting

Schiava

In the Kitchen or the Tulips

Anemone

"Her fic, Anemone, got me into Omegaverse because it was so good and so weird and just perfect. She's introduced me to so many cool tropes, and she always manages to put her own spin on it. And her dialogues are so funny that I accidentally quote them from time to time." -- @dame-zoom-a-lot

Below the cut, @teddywesworl answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I think Steddie’s appeal to me is rooted in class tension and social power. Within the insular confines of a small town in Indiana in the 80s, these two guys couldn’t be much more different—Steve’s parents have a giant house and buy him a BMW, while Eddie lives in the trailer park with his uncle and tells stories about a father who taught him to steal cars. Steve peaked as the top jock in high school, while Eddie, held back from graduating twice, delivers abrasive monologues from atop cafeteria tables and runs the much-maligned D&D club. But then you peel back those surface layers, and they’re both fundamentally good dudes who will lay everything down for the people they care about. It’s really fun to both read and write about the ways the tension inherent to their circumstances might resolve.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Honestly, it sort of changes over time? But I’m a softie at heart, so it has to have a happy ending.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Anything to do with power exchange. :)

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Sleight of Hand by Smithereen (@flieslikeamoron on tumblr)

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I have most of an outline of an incubus!Eddie fic sitting in my google docs. No idea if I’ll ever write it!

What is your writing process like?

First, I get possessed by an idea. Then I obsessively rotate the idea in my mind for 12-48 hours, picking apart what’s compelling about it and concocting like… key moments and images and concepts that give the concept its legs. Then I build an outline around those key pieces. Then prose.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Probably.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I’ve finished writing. I did Deathsleep sort of on a schedule, but I chafe against anything that makes fandom feel too polished or like a job.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Deathsleep. Please read Deathsleep. It’s the best thing I’ve ever written, and it’s not a close call, and if I get my original fantasy fiction published one day, everyone who’s read Deathsleep will immediately be able to tell what it was a rehearsal for.

How did you get the idea for Anemone?

So I resisted writing omegaverse for a long time because I didn’t think I had anything to add to the genre and furthermore didn’t have anything fun to say about the Gender of it all. But then @jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s, @r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e, and @stevehairingtit kept saying interesting things about omegaverse both in fic and in conversation, and I realized that I did have something to contribute: a background in developmental biology. So Anemone actually started as a way to discuss how certain omegaverse conventions (in particular, bitching) might work if they were real. And then I stirred in a healthy portion of my love of extremely weird and fucked up power dynamics.

When writing In the Kitchen or the Tulips, what was something you didn’t expect?

The intergenerational storytelling. I had no idea all the parental figures were going to be as important to everything as they ended up being. It’s sort of obvious in retrospect, but it came out of nowhere during development.

What inspired In the Kitchen or the Tulips?

My love/hate relationship with soulmate AUs. What a weird and complicated fanfic trope, right? As soon as you start thinking about them too hard, they start saying some very strange things about, say, free will. I wanted to sink my teeth into that idea. I wanted to look right at it. I wanted to ask what makes a soulmate bond work or not work, and I did NOT want the formation of the bond to be the climax of the story.

What was your favorite part to write from Schiava?

I basically have no memory of writing the entire Vino series. I was possessed, five minutes passed, and then three fics existed. I really like the bit where Vecna tries to take Eddie back and Steve figures out how to prevent it, though. :)

How do/did you feel writing A Gem Beyond Counting?

Gem is the most self-indulgent fic I’ve ever written, just because it was born from doing one of those fanfic trope tier list memes and then making an outline out of my whole S tier row. It was a blast.

What was the most difficult part of writing Dissonance Theory?

DT took forever to finish. I got stuck on the train station in chapter 4, just couldn’t quite figure out how I wanted to resolve Eddie’s human relationships. I got through it, though, because I really wanted to get to the knife stuff.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Deathsleep acumen sequence.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’ve got my head down writing a fantasy novel at the moment, around 30k in the draft as of this writing. If anybody’s into stories about monsters, monster hunters, imperial collapse, and dragonslaying as a metaphor for cultural genocide, I post occasional updates about it on my tumblr and I will be super obnoxious if/when it gets published!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Thank you to whomstsoever thought of me for the spotlight! Love you, steddies.

Thank you to our author, @teddywesworl, and our nominator, @dame-zoom-a-lot! See more of teddywesworl's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[mesetacadre]

"Lacking in social positions" seems like a pretty mild way to describe the KKE. To be absolutely clear, I'm not making some pinkwashy/homonationalist bullshit argument: I would love it if the KKE squashed Greece's capitalist class tomorrow and would cheer on from where I live. But, and sorry if this comes off rude, I am very frustrated by people being consistently too timid in criticizing bigoted -on top of poorly though-out strategically- mistakes like that just because a party does very well in other areas. Yes, their work needs to be acknowledged, but the mistakes keep people away from communists and divide the working class on grounds of sexuality and identity (the very thing people tend to accuse sexual minorities of). The bullshit they said about children and gay people -to name the example I'm most familiar with- is not, in my opinion, "lacking in social positions", but heinous and revealing of a worrying homophobic trend that needs to be completely uprooted (https://inter.kke.gr/en/articles/To-clarify-certain-issues/)

Something that happens a lot when a CP states a socially regressive position is that online discourse surrounding it will be completely swallowed up but this one matter, which in Europe's case -KKE and PCTE- amounts to internally undeveloped positions in a scarce set of statements unreflective of actual party culture.

Point out to me how the KKE is actively, materially hurting gay people, their members or otherwise, the actual trend. I think you said "revealing of a worrying homophobic trend" either out of reflex because this trend does not exist, or because you're confusing the volume of attacks (not criticisms!) for what the party actually does. You linked a 9 year old article whose position is materially progressive with a frankly contextually inconsequential take about how marriage is between a man and a woman. Inconsequential because the actual complete position is that marriage should not hold exclusive economic and social benefits, which if it didn't, would make the exclusion or inclusion of gay people in the marriage institution meaningless. The point of the push for gay marriage is that it'd constitute a stride towards sexual equality in a society where certain privileges are cordoned off behind marriage, but if those same privileges are untethered from marriage, what does it matter if anyone has access to it or not?

Besides this, I'm also not saying the KKE doesn't have homophobic positions, and at the end of the day this weird bait and switch about how a family is only between a man and a woman but actually marriage shouldn't be special is tactically and strategically deaf, confused, not really useful, and homophobic. But has this positioning, result of an aged CC, ever translated into actual harm against gay people within and without the KKE's ranks? No, because it is not reflective of party culture, and the party even says so in the article you linked.

When it comes to actual parties doing actual work, this kind of screed, more common on twitter, is completely useless if you actually want to change these parties for the better. If you wanted to harm these parties you'd be on the golden path, but I'm not accusing you, anon, of this. The only way that a party-wide position can be changed is in the party Congress, the result of months' work of preparation, pre-Congress debate, and a day or more of common debate in the Congress. At every step, this is a purely internal process which, if anything, is hindered by a constant barrage of social-media attacks. You want this to be uprooted? Then join the KKE and change it. Can't join it? Then stop turning the people who could change it off the party. The alternative in Greece at the moment amounts to anarchist squatters whose greatest achievement is wasting police resources on getting raided and housing abusers. But they were waving a rainbow flag doing it, I guess.

Like I don't know what else to tell you. I'm not the KKE's nanny, I'm a guy writing posts on tumblr, if you want me to do something about it I'd tell you I actually am, within my possibilities, outside of social media where it actually has an effect, but what I do personally is a moot point and I'm only writing this because it seems you expect the criticisms on my tumblr blog to be doing something. Anything you can think of to criticize the KKE of, and more, has already been discussed by its hundreds of thousands of militants with a depth tenfold of what is even possible outside of the party, let alone a social media post. I find the analysis of their competency in the workers' movement more compelling for people looking to the KKE as an example in that area, and any meaningful advances in positions regarding sexual minorities can only happen in lockstep with the workers shift, something no other alternative in Greece comes even close to. The worst and the great part of the deviations at the core of the KKE have already been dealt with and disterred, this is the remnant of an even worse past, whose end is a matter of time and the effort of our comrades in the KKE.

[ro-writesstuff]

freudian slips - matty healy

minors do not interact, all fics are 18+.

a/n: why did writing this make me sad… anyway enjoy! 🫶🏼

summary: you pick matty up from a night out and he says something he wasn’t supposed to.

cw: cursing, ANGST, mentions of alcohol, not proofread

***

your phone buzzed with vigor.

the harsh blue light of your phone screen cuts through the darkness of your room, cursing who could be calling you this late at night.

well technically, this early in the morning.

suddenly, you were reminded of something your best friend had said. he’d mentioned a week ago how he was going out with one of his friends tonight. low and behold, there was his contact illuminating the room.

***

matty had refused to go out for a while, telling his two friends he was tired and mumbled things of 'you guys go, i'll be here when you come back'. he anticipated the back and forth with his friends, but not his much.

ross, however, in an attempt to get matty out of the house (and to try and convince him to consider even looking at other girls, knowing damn well about matty's crush on you) forcibly made him get ready and drove him to the bar he and his friend was meeting at. though ross loved matty, ross knew he was too scared to do anything about it.

oh, how ironic that thought would become.

***

“yes?” You treaded carefully, not knowing what Matty’s night had consisted of.

“hi, erm, can you pick me up? Had- whoa,” he tripped over a missing segment in the sidewalk, earning a giggle from the other end of the telephone. He smiles to himself, the sound warming his heart in the cold of December.

ross had good intentions tonight: to get matty to look at a girl that wasn't you. however, that plan was defenestrated when a girl ordered ross a drink at the bar.

and matty much rather had ross gone than being bugged by him about finding someone to dance with the whole night.

“yeah, can you come pick me up? the fucker ran off with some girl and now ‘m all alone.” he rambled.

“sure,” you checked his location and said you’d be there in ten minutes.

***

you see his inebriated figure sitting on a bench outside when you shut off your car.

matty immediately recognizes the sound of your car, mind ecstatic you were here with him now. as soon as he ended the phone call, he was thinking about you sitting next to him, truthfully.

“hello beautiful!” he beamed, body slumping to the bottom of the bench as you help him sit upright. you mumble a greeting as he wiggles around like jelly.

“you’re glowing,” he says, pupils dilated and a shit eating grin covering his face.

you laugh. “healy, get in the car please.” you rush, unsure if he was going to puke.

“why're you laughing," he says, pouting. "‘m serious!” he protested.

thankfully, matty got in the car willingly, refusing to put on his seatbelt and after you clicking it in for him turned on the car.

“ah.”

the reflection of your car lights off the car in front of you practically blinds him as he lets out a pained noise. he shields his eyes, his sight starting to spin again as you start to drive. when his vision returns, he disinterestedly watches the blurred lights and unknown shapes near the darkened road. his head lulled to the side as you turn the car, gaze softening as he marveled over the sight of you.

now that view he could never get bored of.

the glow of the dashboard's icons illuminates your features in a delightful manner, as the tires scrape against the rough road outside. your soft demeanor calms him. the sight reminded him of late movie nights at his house when you fell asleep, too tired from work and the other things that bothered you from the day. not that he minded; you always felt bad and mumbled a 'sorry' and he an 'it's alright, darlin''; a gentle routine he would surely never get tired of. your breathing would blend with the soft sounds of the movie, and when they were just slightly louder than the tele, his gaze shifted to your sleeping figure.

his hand slides over the soft skin of your thigh, and you feel your heartbeat quicken. your eyes try to stay glued to the road, although your body wants to abandon driving altogether. this isn't the first time he's done this, and you certainly hope it isn't the last. you manage to get your thoughts in order and when you do, sigh in relief you're halfway to matty's house.

“how was your night, love?” he knew he could get away with as many pet names as he wanted tonight.

you smile, “okay. not doing much.”

the car ride was quiet, other than him randomly singing and asking you questions. you pull the car into park as matty found his house key in your keychain, (a task to keep him focused from getting nauseous from the car ride) handing you his extra key for moments like this.

“okay, healy. inside you go,” the key slides into the lock as he mumbled to himself. unsure of what he said, you push him through the door and locking it behind you.

he stumbles around for a few minutes, eventually landing on the soft plush of the couch, his face squished against the cushions. his mouth mumbles, “god, you’re lovely.”

you ignore his comment, unsure if he was talking to you or the sofa cushions.

opening matty's cabinet, you grab one of his favorite mugs and fill it with water. matty babbles something you can't quite catch from across the room as you return with the cup full of water in hand.

“d'know why y-you date those ugly guys.” he says, words forming together as one.

you laugh at his more-than-usual bluntness, “you saying I have bad taste in men?”

“maybe, depends on who you go out with next,” he winks.

your cheeks heat. “yeah, yeah, healy. drink this,” you hand him the cup, anticipating the paper towel you were needing to grab in the next minute or so.

he gasps. “thank you!” he reaches his hands out, eyes and mind exceedingly focused on not spilling a single drop. it would be embarrassing spilling in front of you, after all.

you’re slightly impressed by his somewhat good balance for his state as his eyes suddenly burst open and light up with a big smile. you chuckle at his movements, carefully swinging his legs on the footstool as you start to untie his shoes. a quiet lull falls over the room.

a smile pulls at your lips, it was moments like this that you knew you'd be a great couple if you weren't so chicken to do something about it.

“oh, I forgot to tell you!” matty starts, curls falling before his forehead.

“hmm?” you wonder.

“there was a girl that looked exactly like you at the bar, darlin’. same height, hair. ev’rythin," the ceramic mug clinks against his teeth, as a soft 'ow' leaves his lips.

"thought I was gonna have to shag her.”

his relaxed figure takes a sip like it was the most casual thought in the world as your actions halt, the sound replaying in your mind on a loop trying to comprehend if he really had just said that. his shoelaces drop from your hands as you stay frozen, unsure of how to react. should you just act like you didn’t hear him? or the opposite? why would he say something like that?

did he feel the same?

still frozen, matty catches onto you. shit, he didn’t mean to say it like that. yes, it has some underlying truth to it, but he wanted to tell you that when he was sober. not in a drunken state where you could misinterpret everything and it costed your friendship.

the thoughts piled on your mind one after the other, your face contorting into an expression of confusion.

no, he couldn’t.

he wishes he could take back the words, “no, no. not like that, I swear.” the strong slur in his words seemed to have dissipated. he reaches over to the table next to him, hurriedly setting the drink down with a clink! as he tries to dig himself out of the hole he just made.

“just, uh, thought she was pretty is all.” he fumbled with the hem of his shirt, eyeline dropping as he waits for your response.

“i’m, uh-” fear rose in your chest as you felt yourself stand, “’m gonna go.”

“no, Y/N, I didn't mean-”

“you're drunk,” you say sternly. “you don't know what you're talking about,"

his eyes pleaded against yours, knowing you would never believe him. "Y/N, i do-"

"bye matty,” you hurriedly gather your things as matty tries to rush after you, his body stuttering over itself as you slam his front door shut. he looks through his window as you trot down to your car, cursing at himself as your car lights hurry home.

[lesbianlaracrofts]

I'm not a writer, but this came to me in a vision and since I wrote it, I thought I might as well let it see the light of day. Yes, this ignores the recent events, so don't ask me what happened to Bobby in this universe, I do not see, I do not hear.

Buck finally has Tommy in front of him. After their ill-fated morning after, he took some time to really think things through and decide what he was feeling and what he wanted to say to Tommy. He knew from the start that he wanted to apologise, but it took him a couple of weeks to prepare himself for how else this conversation could go.

So now Tommy is in his house again, in the very same kitchen they last spoke in. And Buck is fumbling it. He tries to speak the apologies he had rehearsed in his head but the fear of this ending badly again makes him stumble.

Tommy, sensing his nerves and perhaps taking pity, raises a hand to stop Buck.

"No, look, this is not all your fault. I'm not proud of how I handled that morning either," Tommy interrupts.

Then, he takes a breath, gathering his thoughts into the words he wants to say. That's something Buck had noticed and quietly admired about him, how he seemed intentional with what he said. There were rare moments where Tommy appeared to talk without a filter — that fated morning being one of them. Since then, Buck has had time to analyze that, and part of him regrets not taking the time to take in that rare moment of unfiltered verbose from Tommy, but the other part is still too upset to feel guilty. Because, what does it say about them that, seemingly, one of the only times Tommy spoke his mind was to imply something so mischaracterising of Buck?

"I think I pride myself in being a level-headed guy, but, clearly I'm not, at least not when it counts," Tommy continues. "Put me in a helicopter, and I will successfully fly it into gunfire and hurricanes, but ask me to have an honest conversation with someone I care about, and I'm a mess." He lets out a chuckle that, while self-deprecating, isn't exactly humorless.

Throughout their relationship, Buck had found himself laughing at Tommy's darker, and sometimes self-deprecating, brand of humor, but he can't find it in himself to laugh along just now. He wants to defend his boyfriend—his ex-boyfriend. But he quenches the urge by the stream of the coveted honesty pouring out of Tommy's mouth.

"I don't think I ever actually thought you had feelings for Eddie," he looks at Buck, mouth tight and straight, no humor now. "But I do that: No matter how well things are, it's like I have this rolodex of fears in my mind that I can't help but pick something out of. And once I pick something, I roll it around in my head until it drives me crazy. Usually I cut my losses before it can even materialize, but that morning I just blurted it out." He breaks the eye contact to rub a hand across his face. In that same movement, he moves to rest against the counter behind him. That adjustment could simply mean Tommy is getting tired and needs something to rest his weight on, but Buck doesn't think it's a coincidence that the hand movement works to cover Tommy's face and the change in position turns his body a little away from Buck. But he's been learning, and the maneuver peaks Buck's attention. Pay attention here, his instincts say; this is what he doesn't want you to see. And Buck sees it: Tommy is hurt, and he's embarrassed that he's hurt.

"I see now that I was fishing for reassurance. But It wasn't fair of me to blurt it out like that and expect you to respond in real time, in a way that assuaged my fears. No, actually, even if I had come about it in a more thought-out way, it was not your job to fix this anxiety I had built up by myself in my head. I put you on the spot and then put too much stake on how you reacted. I think part of me just wanted to be right about my fears, to be right about how things have to go wrong and I can't have what I want. So when I got the answer that vindicated that, I just left."

Buck is stunned silent for a moment because this is a side of Tommy he hadn't considered yet. An insecure, impulsive, anxious side. A side that Buck relates to so badly that the rush of empathy and affection climbing up his throat robs his voice for a second. But he he doesn't want to keep Tommy hanging, so he pushes through it.

"N-no, but wait, Tommy," Buck makes several aborted movements towards his ex before deciding on grabbing the counter to his side with his left hand while the right one he uses to gesticulate; otherwise, he can't get the words out. A compromise: 50% free to express himself, 50% tied to something solid so he doesn't go overboard. "I—yes. You shouldn't have left like that. You barely gave me time to process what you said and what that meant for our relationship. My mind was split between wondering if you'd spend our whole relationship expecting me to cheat on you—" At that, Tommy winces and says, "God, no," which is reassuring, but Buck has to press on. "And being hurt that you would suggest Eddie leaving was a good thing while I was already upset about that. But that wasn't fully fair to you either because you didn't know all the details of how it went down and how upset I was. We hadn't talked."

"Seems like that's the theme for us," Tommy quips, and Buck glares at him but can't completely suppress a smile.

"But other than that," Buck continues, deciding to go for broke. "I was insulted. I don't get why people don't understand this, but it's insulting that they keep suggesting I'm hopelessly pining for my straight best friend. I'm not an inexperienced teen; I know the difference between friendship and romance. I'm an adult who knows how desiring and being desired feels like. And I don't need to settle for unwanted pining when I can have the real thing whenever I want it," he's huffing a bit because he shouldn't even have to say this. He wants the people in his life to treat him like the experienced adult he is. He realizes he probably needs to have this conversation with his sister as well.

"But," he continues. "I know you didn't want to insult me. I knew it even before, and now I'm just more sure of it. S-so, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lashed out and tried to hurt you back. Y-you have to know, I didn't mean it, what I said about not having feelings."

"You would be within your rights to say that. I pushed you for a reaction, and that meant I had to be ready for an honest answer I didn't like," Tommy shrugs.

"T-that was not an honest answer" Buck says, words coming out too loud with the horror of Tommy actually believing that he doesn't have feelings for him. "I was just being an ass, don't—please, believe me, that thing I said couldn't be further from the truth."

Tommy levels him with a searching look before the corners of his lips twitch and then curve a tiny bit up. "Okay, Evan. I believe you," he promises.

"Okay," Buck repeats, relieved. However, his mind is a bit empty now, hearing his name like that and seeing that smile. "There's probably more we need to talk about, but..." He feels himself move, and that smile his eyes are glued to is growing slowly, a teasing edge to it, plus some hopeless affection, if Buck is not wishful thinking.

Tommy is moving too, body pushing away from the counter and realigning to face Buck. His body language is changing to a more open one, and Buck wonders why that is until he sees arms raising to receive him, and he realizes he's been entering Tommy's space.

"God, Tommy," he rests his hands on Tommy's arms, lets them roam upwards until he grabs both sides of his face. "I missed you so much. That's something else I wanted to say. I'm sorry I didn't—it seems like there's never enough time for me to say everything I want to say."

"Then I'm sorry I keep cutting our time short," Tommy says, his brow furrowed in what looks like real sorrow. Buck is feeling tears gather in his eyes, and, even though he knows Tommy is not like him in this, not quick to tear up, he doesn't need to see tears to know what he is feeling. "I want to give you, us, more time." Tommy swallows what's probably some saliva and a lot of old doubts. "I want to try to give us a long time."

Buck has a feeling that, even now, Tommy is holding back from saying more. That filter of his, working hard. But that's alright because they have time. 

"Okay," Buck says, already pulling Tommy in for a long-awaited kiss. Tommy goes willingly, pliant, some of the armour shedded and making him lighter.

"I believe you, Tommy," he says right before he won't be able to speak for a while.

[jammatown919]

Where Love Rests

The Nublar Six visit Italy again two years later. Yaz decides it's the perfect place to propose to her girlfriend.

Two quick notes:

1. I still kind of want to name these chapters but haven't been able to come up with names I like and didn't want that to hold me back from posting, so I may come back and edit in chapter titles later.

2. I can't really decide what I think Brooklynn's romantic situation will look like by the end of the series, so I'm leaving it up to reader interpretation whether she's with Darius, Kenji, or single.

Chapter One - A Thought in The Dark

It was nice to be back in Italy under better circumstances. 

For one thing, the Camp Fam was here by choice this time. Rather than crashlanding into the freezing environment on the heels of a devastating revelation, they'd been planning this trip for months, just for fun. Just to see Gia and Nonna, as none of them save for Ben had in two years, and do something exciting as a group.  

They'd all been making the effort to do that more these past couple years. See each other more often, share more positive experiences rather than just near-death ones. Though it had taken some time to fully stabilize the rocked foundations of their group after the Brooklynn/Broker/Biosyn incident, they were all finally back in a good place, and none of them were keen on starting to drift again. 

They took their weekly check-ins more seriously than they ever had. Looked for meet-up opportunities whenever they could. Had annual New Years parties at Darius's cabin and summer barbecues at Sammy and Yaz's ranch. Planned group events as frequently as finances and schedules would allow, whether it was meeting up for someone's birthday or a genuine vacation such as this. 

It struck Yaz long before arrival that none of them had really gotten to enjoy Italy the first time. Brooklynn hadn't even been there, and the rest of the group had been dealing with the fallout of exactly that. This time, the circumstances were much more conducive to having a good time. 

The plane ride went smoothly enough that Yaz could spend most of it dozing on Sammy's shoulder. Upon landing, they were greeted by a beautiful, mild summer day and Gia waiting to ambush them all with tight hugs before driving them back to her house. 

There, they were given approximately sixty seconds to set their things down, at which point Nonna immediately began trying to feed them. She'd made enough risotto for a small army, and it became quickly apparent that no one was getting away from the table without having thirds. 

After lunch, they were able to settle down in the living room for a while, sleepy and somewhat jet lagged. They chatted quietly amongst themselves and with Gia, who was far more animated, for about an hour before Kenji fished a deck of Uno cards out of his bag. Amidst all the arguing about which house rules improved the game and which were unbearably annoying, they managed to play twice in two hours. 

By then, they were all finally awake enough to move their bags out of the living room and into the places they would be sleeping for next week and a half. Ben, Darius, and Kenji would occupy the guest room/office as they had the first time; no hassle there. For easier distribution of space, Gia had decided to share Nonna's room for the duration of the visit so that the other girls could stay in hers. 

They would set up a sleeping pad for Brooklynn later, but presently, the three of them only ducked inside momentarily to drop their things near the bed Yaz and Sammy would be sharing. Yaz lingered near it a bit longer than the other two, hyperaware that the last time she'd been in this room, sitting on this bed, she and Sammy had been having the most consequential fight of their entire relationship. 

Things had worked out quickly enough, but she couldn't help remembering how she'd been standing a mere two feet away from where she was now when she'd called Sammy a coward. Even now, she recalled their exact positions when Sammy had called things off between them, however briefly. For a few seconds, it completely soured Yaz's mood, and she began to weigh the pros and cons of asking to sleep on the couch instead. 

"Yaz?" Then, Sammy called out to her from the doorway. Brooklynn had already left the room, and she was just waiting on Yaz to do the same. "You okay, hon?"

The heaviness that had tried to settle over her began to fade. However awful it had been to experience, that ordeal was long over. They'd patched things up years ago, and Sammy once again looked at Yaz with all the tenderness and affection in the world. 

"Yeah," Yaz replied, walking over so that Sammy's outstretched arm could wrap around her back. 

"Still tired?" Sammy guessed with a little smile. "I can leave you be if you want to take a nap."

"I'm good." Yaz pressed herself gently into Sammy's side. For the sake of honesty, she added, "just got in my head about something for a second. Nothing serious."

Sammy's brow furrowed slightly. "You'll tell me if it keeps bothering you?"

"Of course." That was their rule now. Neither of them ever had to talk, but there was a mutual expectation that they should if a troublesome thought kept coming back. This, among other things, had been extremely helpful in their efforts to strengthen their relationship. 

Yaz grinned as Sammy kissed her lightly on the forehead, and the two of them headed back out to the living room with the others. 

For the rest of the evening, things were pretty relaxed. The fun vacation experiences would begin tomorrow, but for now, everyone was too tired to do much more than show Gia all the photos of grown-up Smoothie they'd accumulated and eat what they could of the frankly obscene batch of pasta Nonna gave them for dinner. 

They didn't manage to stay up very late after that. Before long, Yaz was tucked under Sammy's arm in a bed that was just slightly too small for there to be any space between them, with Brooklynn snoring softly on the floor a few feet away. Sammy and Brooklynn had both conked out quickly, but Yaz, now alone with her thoughts, was still awake. 

It wasn't quite as bad as the first time, but she still couldn't help thinking about it. Everything she regretted from their previous visit, as well as the year before. Every mistake she'd made that had almost cost her the most important thing in her life. 

Though, in a way, she supposed that terrible night had ultimately helped them fix things. Unearthed buried feelings, revealed festering wounds, showed them in no uncertain terms what was at risk if they didn't start communicating honestly. As much as it hurt, it had allowed them to come back together with a new perspective. A realization that hiding their feelings to spare the other's only bred resentment, and that if they wanted to be on the same page, they had to be willing to listen rather than just trying to push and convince. 

Their brief time apart, spent mulling over their missteps, had helped prepare them to approach things differently after their unexpected reunion in Biosyn Valley. Yaz had gone to Sammy, realizing how her lack of initiative had hurt them, but let her do most of the talking. Fully heard her out before explaining her side, not expecting to change how Sammy felt, but wanting them to thoroughly understand each other. 

It had been enough, in the moment. Reaffirmed that for all their faults, they loved each other enough to try. They went through their ordeal at Biosyn as partners; a team determined to work. 

When the time finally came to go home, they knew they still had work to do, and they had committed themselves to doing it properly. Yaz moved back home to Texas. Sammy agreed to attend therapy together. Though it had been a process, with setbacks and bad days like any other, they'd learned. After a few months, it was like they'd never been apart at all. 

And now, things were more or less perfect between them. Their occasional arguments were minor. They were much better at airing grievances before things got worse than they needed to be. And perhaps most importantly, the distance between them had closed. 

They woke up beside each other every morning and fell asleep in each other's arms every night. Talking was easy, and silence was comfortable. They were back to quiet mornings and date nights and horseback riding. Dancing around the kitchen while Sammy hummed a love song and their dinner burned behind them. Touching tenderly and amorously. 

When things got heavy, they were there to lighten each other's burdens. When things were good, they each knew they had the perfect companion for whatever the day would bring. 

Their connection was stronger than ever before, and frankly, Yaz had no idea what she would do without it. Being with Sammy was... everything. It was all she wanted, all the time. She couldn't imagine any future in which this wasn't her life. Sammy was her best constant. The one thing, above all else, that she knew she wanted to keep forever. 

Forever. For the rest of their lives. 

Yaz stared up at the ceiling, listening to Sammy's slow, soft breaths by her ear. They were so close she could feel Sammy's heartbeat. 

It came to her very suddenly. A thought she'd had in passing a few times before but always put aside for later because she had known they weren't ready. Now, with things as good as they were, it seemed a perfect time to start thinking about it again. 

She wanted to get married. Grow old together. Maybe have a kid or two at some point. 

She took a breath, realizing she was starting to get ahead of herself. But... yeah. She wanted to get married. 

Turning over to the degree that she could without disturbing Sammy, Yaz silently observed the sleeping face of her partner. For all the time it had been a fleeting thought, she couldn't get it out of her head now. This woman; her wife. Their future secured and celebrated. 

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to make it happen. 

------

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or buying the writer a coffee!

[day-dreaming-everyday]

I did Himbo orc so it's time for elegant lesbian vampire

Anyway imagine: She's elegant very sophisticated, in her castle everything is spotless. She's tall, taller then any women you ever met and most guys. Her skin is like a pale marble without a drop of color beside bloody red lips. She always look perfect and elegant with her long silk like black hair.

You met her on accident, you were lost and it was starting to get dark. As sun wad setting you you heard her... Her voice was melodic, but also intimidating at the same time. Quickly you end up going to her house to spend the night inside.

"Outside at night would be dangerous for somone so fragile".

She introduce herself as Louisa before letting you inside. Her home was huge.. it was a whole ass castle not house! As you followed her inside you could see Staff that worked for her... She seems to only hire women.

At first you felt intimidate looking in her dark eyes, but soon without you even realising you could get lost in them. Her black eyes reminded you of obsidian yet were so calm... It felt as if you were high and instead of just hiding for the night in her house you spend whole night in her bed with her.

You didn't knew what got into you... Who would go to strangers bed? You barely know her but the moment she pinned you down and kissed you, made you forgot about everything.

She didn't expect you to do anything... She was completely fine with taking care of such a tempting pillow princess. She wasn't rough with you, but she wasn't trying to be gentle either. She kept kissing your neck, saying something about your tempting scent and blaming you for seducing her, as she turned you into a mess under her.

From Louisa perspective the second she saw you she barely could resist. Everything about you was calling to her begging to be owned. To belong to her. Despite being vampire she didn't enjoy drinking blood, as she found it tastes horrible most of the time... but yours? It smell heavenly and tastes even better. She could swear you were made for her.

Louisa doesn't really like leaving her home, but if it ment spending even a second with you she would go anywhere. She only ever hire women around her castle because the scent of blood was usually stronger from men and she hated that sent but out of her home she would be surrounded by people and there's scents... But she just try to focus on yours. Ofcors going out during the day is torture for her. Sun won't kill her but it weakens her severely, especially her mind control ability she dosen't want to tell you about.

She's not happy when you're spending time with others... She's worried thiere horible scent would stay on you and overshadow your devine smell. She wish she could just lock you up with her but she put this thought aside even if it's always in back of her head.

You could think she only want you because of your blood and you couldn't be more wrong. Everything about you captivate her. She wants you. She needs you. Even without your blood she wants to have you forever. She's planing to one day turn you in vampire to so you won't be able to escape from her not even through death... She wouldn't allow cold death to steal you from her.

You're her love and she's going to keep you. Forever.

[zenfiii]

My favorite ships of all time.. but as lesbians‼️‼️+ why i love these ships

Why i love these ships: they're stupid together

Anyway hope you like my designs!! Even if some are barely noticeable 🫠

(I'll be adding the qijiu drawing later!!)

(real reasons under the cut)

Clarification: they are not listed according to which one I like the most‼️ I have also only chosen the one I like the most, but there are many others ships that I enjoy as much as these! It's just that these have a special place in my heart (not to mention it's like four in the morning and I'm not going to draw more lol). With that said, let's see why I like these ships 😯

Torisai: Watching the series, Toritsuka became my favourite character because of how funny he was and especially because of his relationship with Saiki. Already when Saiki threatened him in the bathroom and half kabedoned him the gears in my head started working.

These two ironically are very close. Throughout the whole series Toritsuka has been very clingy with Saiki and even though Saiki himself despises and insults him, he actually cares and trusts him enough to do something as important as the volcano problem. They have this hate-love-hate relationship that I love, because Tori practically praises him while Saiki treats him like a germ, but, in the end, whether he wants to or not, he gives in (that's a lie, he doesn't, but let's pretend he does).

Saiki is practically a god to Tori and Tori is more of a problem to Saiki. They can't stand each other many times but they need each other's help on many other occasions. I love them I hope they get run over.

(I know I'm not saying much, but it's been a while since I've seen the series. If I rewatch it, I'll probably write this again with more details!!)

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ ·

Zensung: For many years my otp was yooran, BUT I discovered that this ship actually existed and OMG. I've always been a multishipper, I believe that love is the solution to everything, and for a long time I was exploring other ships but this one I had never seen, when I did everything changed, seriously.

Their dynamic, their chemistry and their relationship both inside and outside the canon UGH. They've always had that big brother/little brother type of relationship, very adorable and all, but what happens when one of them starts to have feelings for the other? Then everything becomes more complicated because these seemingly innocent acts can suddenly have a different meaning. Going over to each other's house unannounced suddenly isn't so comfortable, being so close is suffocating, and the touching is too much to bear.

On Yoosung's part the problem comes more from the fact that he is his friend, and not only that, his incredibly attractive friend. And on Zen's part there is the fact that he is a man, and not only that, a man he actually finds very cute. So they have this awkward dynamic of not knowing how to approach each other properly and it's so delicious. I could read thousands of fanfics where it's just them trying to figure out what's the best way to just accept these feelings. Very cute, hopefully they kiss mua.

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ ·

Xiaoven: When I wasn't playing genshin yet I came across some very nice art of them on Instagram. When I started playing Venti quickly became my favourite character. Shortly after that I got to know the pairing he had with Xiao and I found it. So cute. I did some research and saw that there was a lot of stuff around them and thought "wow, that's cool!! From so much content I'm sure a lot of people love it". Er. What a surprise when I realised that for a long time it's been one of the most hated ships in the community and I was like ???? I couldn't understand why, and to this day I still don't understand why it's so hated jksjdks.

Anyway. Why I like it is very simple. They're cute together. Xiao who has been isolating himself from everyone and everything actually has someone he holds dear to his heart because not only has he saved him, he constantly helps him and keeps him company. A pure soul who is there and embraces him with all that he is. And on Venti's side, although it doesn't seem like it, he actually is pretty much alone, all his friends, most of them, dead. And it's not like he can visit the ones that are alive. He is a free soul but, essentially he is lonely. He spends his nights with Xiao because he is someone he can trust, and secretly Venti hopes to spend more nights with him. Ayyy my kids how I love them, if I could I would put them in a little box and keep them away from everything bad in this world.

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ ·

Ivantill: My lovely kids! I love them because they have this whole complicated story, how Till loves Ivan but doesn't show it, and how Ivan wants Till to look at him but does it with violence because he doesn't know how to express it normally!! Well none of them know how to do it normally but uh, yeah.

Quite recent, but their story is very good! Although to be honest I don't really like angst and prefer to draw them happy, so I'll stick with au's!! I'd rather shamelessly cover my eyes and think they're happy than see how they've really ended up lol. Although that has its own beauty too, I just prefer the adorable stuff.

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ ·

[discordiansamba]

anyways long story short, the other day I was running errands while my MP3 player kept on playing songs on shuffle from the Index/Railgun franchise while I was thinking about my aoex fics... and I ended up with a fusion AU as a result, lmao. it definitely takes more heavily from the science side of the franchise but the only thing you really need to understand about the franchise is the knowledge that

a.) it takes place in Academy City, an independent city state largely populated by students and houses hundreds of schools, with the primary goal of unlocking and developing esper abilities that rank from Level 0 (no ability) to Level 5 (the highest possible rank and the least common).

b.) it has a dark underside that makes Section 13 look like a harmless daycare. these fuckers especially like trying to unlock the theoretical Level Six or dual abilities.

c.) orphans taken in by Academy City are called Child Errors. those who have abilities without the need for Academy City's development program are called Gemstones.

okay! now I can actually talk about the AU, lmao.

the key points are:

rin and yukio are twins living in academy city, who unlike most of the other students, live there with their mother yuri in a church run by shiro. rin is a level 5 pyrokinetic and yukio is a level 0 with no ability of his own.

for years, rin was unable to fully control his own ability- he's possessed his flames since he was born and has been powerful from the starting gate. everyone in the family except for yukio have burns somewhere on their body from rin's early lack of control, but rin himself has the most- he keeps them covered, but his hands and arms are pockmarked with old burn scars.

these days he has excellent control of his flames!

...but he still has a reputation of being dangerous and out of control regardless, so most people are too afraid to actually talk to him- except for those who want the glory of beating a level 5 in a fight. he constantly finds himself getting into fights that isolate him further at school.

despite his bad reputation, yukio has still grown up in rin's shadow. people expect him to be equally as strong as his brother- but he doesn't have an ability at all. instead, he's devoted himself to his studies, an area in which his brother struggles.

upon entering high school, rin is determined to actually make some friends for a change. he and yukio enroll in true cross academy- both on a scholarship- yukio for his academics, and rin for being well. a level 5.

shiemi is also a level 5! her ability is plant manipulation. unbeknownst to her, her grandmother and mother have both served on academy city's board of directors- and for that exact reason, they've done their best to keep shiemi far away from the dark side of academy city.

shima is a level 4 pyrokinetic who wields black flames, and secretly works as an enforcer for the dark side of academy city. he actually ran away from home in middle school to enroll in academy city because he didn't want to follow the path his family had set out for him.

ryuuji and konekomaru are his childhood friends, who came after him in their last year of middle school to convince him to go home, but ended up staying. the temple they all grew up in is still impoverished- and with the scholarship they both obtained, they get free housing and meals.

ryuuji is a level 3 who can generate barriers! you fuckers can't all have pyrokinesis. konekomaru is probably a level 2, but I actually haven't decided on what his ability is yet. definitely something support, since he's more suited to that.

izumo is a level 3 who can manipulate electricity. she and her sister are child errors who were taken into academy city after tamamo did a murder suicide with their father. with no one to protect her, izumo got entangled in a shady experiment upon arrival and is doing her best to protect tsukumo from it.

(paku is also a level 0 who stubbornly befriends izumo)

amaimon and takara are here to carry the flag of level 5s who have something deeply wrong with them. earth manipulation and telekinesis respectively.

what rin and yukio don't know about their origins is that they're the result of an attempt to artificially create a level 5. rin was the experiments only real success, but it became clear that unless something drastically changed in his environment, he was going to destroy himself.

thus, one of the scientists proposed a plan- raise him as a normal child, and see if that helped with his control and stability. to that end, she took one of the failed experiments with her and created the setting that they were twins. both rin and yukio are clones of a gemstone who was given the codename Satan, though they've had tweaks so they're not necessarily identical.

yuri voice: i'm just raising them for the experiment. i'm not going to get attached.

(she's so, so wrong.)

pov: you are shiro. a woman has arrive at your church with twin children, looking for sanctuary. you don't turn her away, even if you can tell she's lying- because her eldest child looks almost identical to your own long dead twin brother at that age.

(and he even has his flames)

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Plot

You attend jujitsu with Gojo,

Your first week and you've been sent out with him to learn how to exercise cursed spirits

He leads you into an old abandoned house, scares you a few times, then a spirit attacks you

Takes you back and takes care of you

Next mission you go with Geto, you get kidnapped, but he can't save you

My first week at jujitsu highschool actually wasn't too bad. Don't get me wrong, school still sucks, but having a tall, slim but incredibly built teacher, with glistening white hair who always spouts the stupidest anecdotes, and chucks mochi balls at us if we get answers correct, made it feel a little less stressful, and little more fun. I was a little older than the other first years; they ranged from 16-18, and I sat at a delicate 24, not much older than the freshly born adult range, but scarily older than the 16 year olds it felt. Our teacher Mr Gojo seemed within our age range, which perplexed me, he was clearly the youngest teacher here.

After being told my ranking was Grade 1, I assumed I was a pretty high end sorcerer already, but very quickly found that, even though grade 1 used to be top dog, with the increasing amount of special grade curses popping up, the rankings might need to change soon...

After a particularly strenuous training session, I found Gojo waiting outside my door, leaning against it with a pastry hanging half in his mouth as he frantically texted on his flip phone.

"AH! There you are! Girl of the hour!" He tilts his head, smiling towards me, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He pulls the pastry from his mouth and shoves it in my direct,

"Wanna try? It's sooo goooood." I wave my hand and shake my head gently towards him,

"Maybe another time. I feel like I'm about to split in half after training today, did you need something?"

"Split in half ey?" I find his head lowering as if he was slowly looking me up and down, "Anyway!" He jumped up, excitedly, suddenly appearing next to me with his arm draped around my shoulder, "It's your lucky day! You get to go on a super secret mission with me, Saturo Gojo, the best in the bizz!" He proudly points to his chest as he says his name, laughing, as we begin our walk to the exit of the building.

"Me? On a mission already? Wait, with you as well?! What the hell did I do to provoke such an invitation?!.... Was it because I kicked Pandas ass yesterday?" My eyes dart along the floor as I'm deep in thought, trying to figure out why it was me who got invited to help Gojo out, even if it only meant watching him in action.

"I mean, yeah that's a good start, but I actually requested you for this mission myself. Well, I say I requested....they don't actually know you're coming with me yet, I'm sure Megumi has given Yaga the note by now though..." He smirked and pulled me in slightly closer to his side.

"I'm sure it'll all work out, who's gonna mess with you anyway now that I'm around?" He glanced at me from the side of his glasses, winking then throwing his head back as a laugh roared from his mouth. I rolled my eyes but couldn't keep the smile from creeping on my face.

We met ijichi at the entrance to the school and he drove us roughly 2 hours away of town, to a place that could only be described as 'disgustingly dissolute.' As we exited the car, Gojo got a call.

"Mhm, I'm here. Yeah yeah that's fine." He pauses, a look of concern washing over him, "Oh, he got the note then...yeah she's here. She's fine. You think I'd let anything happ...." The person on the other end of the phone had evidently hung up before he could finish his sentence. He snapped his phone closed and shoved it into his pocket.

"So yeeeeeeeah, Yaga ain't happy. He told megumi that he's instructed ijichi to turn back around and come collect you, buuuuut that's not gonna happen." He flashes a grin and grabs me by the arm, "How can he collect you if he can't find you? Hold on." We suddenly start running towards a block of dilapidated buildings and down a few alleys. We stop abruptly as he pushes me with one hand against the wall behind him. He quietly listens to see if ijichi bothered driving down this side of the buildings, but hearing anything, he looks back at me laughing quietly to himself, to find me staring wide eyed down at the fact he had his hand placed perfectly cradling my right breast. Jumping back and putting his hand on the back of his neck, he quickly apologised for the accidently grope.

"oh shit, sorry about that! It's usually me by myself, or if anyone HAS to come with it, it's usually Yugi...I'm not used to boobs getting in the way when I'm trying to hide someone from others eyeline....felt nice though, so, thanks for that little pick me up!"

"Errrr, anytime I guess?" I muster, trying to pretend I wasn't completely flustered. 3 seconds of grabbing my boob got me this shy and embarrassed? God he's gonna think I'm a virgin! I should've smacked his hand, slapped his face, put my hand on his pec imitating him... He could see the racing thoughts going through my mind as I stood motionless, eyes only darting along the floor again, but he quickly interruptes.

"Ooooh, so you're a thinker...I wish I was a thinker. I just say whatever I want and worry about thinking later. It usually works out." He leans down to look at me, peering over his glasses, clearly trying to crack a smile.

I giggle and brush my hair behind my ear, flattening the creases from my shirt, I ask where we had to head next.

"um...um..." He spins around, looking at the buildings surrounding us, "Oh! There! You see that creepy looking building that looks like it's been burnt to a crisp, and could collapse at a sudden wind? Yeah, we're headed in there." He walks gleefully towards the decrepit building, swinging his arms exaggeratedly beside himself, as I follow on his tail. I don't understand why he looks so cheerful going into a place like this, but hey, it meant I got to watch him work, I couldn't exactly complain about it not being a 5 star hotel now could I.

Once I see him slip gracefully in the half open door, I follow him and find he's nowhere in the room before me. It's an old, dusty grey room, filled with burnt boxes and half a rug that looks like it's been torn in half. Stairs to the back right look damaged and unclimbable, with a hole half way up that seems to dig deep into the foundations of the building, I look to my left and see a room leading to what I assume is a kitchen. I creep into the room, clinging to the wall behind me, careful of my footing and try to enter the room with the tile flooring, to which I find him swinging on a chair, feet on the table, holding a porno magazine sideways, displaying nothing but charred remained of a woman jumping in the air, presumably with her breasts out, covered in white, foam? Soap? It's so burnt you can barely make out the photo anymore.

"Enjoying yourself?" I blurt, as he nearly falls off the chair and drops the magazine to the floor. He kicks it over to me,

"Check out that hottie!" He exclaims, "Get it, cause it's burnt? You get it right?" I roll my eyes and let out a slight sigh,

"Yeah I get it, you're into smoking hot babes." I let out a small laugh as I turn back around and hear him now actually falling off the chair backwards, laughing loudly!

"I knew you'd get it! Cm'here!" He appears behind me, and puts his arm around my waist, pulling me slightly closer into him, "I knew you'd get my humour. We're gonna get along like a house on fire, ey." He whispers into my ear, letting out a proud exhale of air from his nose.

I roll my eyes and ask him what we're doing in a dusty ass house like this, and what made it a special mission in the first place, to which he jumps up and appears at the top of the stairs, proudly proclaiming, "We're here so I can show off!" He wanders off, searching the top floor, as I decide to check the bottom floor. I can hear his footsteps lazily falling on the floorboards above me, as I open a cupboard and books loudly crash to my feet.

"YOU ALRIGHT DOWN THERE?!" I hear panic in his voice, and before I can even reply, I hear a tumble down the stairs, and a second later see him leaning against the doorframe behind me, arms folded, covered in dust, and his glasses hanging half off his face.

"Are you alright there?" I laugh, clearly mocking him falling down the stairs, to which I see his eyes dart behind me.

"Don't. Move." He whispers, a sudden seriousness took over his voice. I stiffen my body and hold his gaze.

"Now walk slowly towards me. SLOWER. Slower. Good. Now just keep coming towards me. I've got you." His eyes widened as he slowly held a hand out to me, I reached for it trying to move as slow as physically possible, to which he suddenly darts at me and pins me to the ground, completely shielding me. I wince and brace myself for impact, and after a few seconds of nothing happening, I slowly open my eyes and see him staring down at me, smiling, still completely ontop of me.

"Spider." He laughs. His chest an inch from my face, I jerk forward trying to bite at his nipple, to which he forcefully uses his hand to push my chest down, now grabbing the left breast slightly.

"Nununuh, pervert. You've gotta wine and dine me first, before biting me anywhere." He flashes a smirk and lingers his hand still on my chest, before looking me up and down and then standing back up, offering his hand out to me.

"So you bring new girls here to grope and have your way with them then I take it?" I snark at him, ignoring his out stretched hang and getting myself up.

"Wait what? You think...?" He breaks out in laughter at the thought of me assuming he wanted to take me. He wipes a fake tear from his eye and rearranged his glasses. I pout and furrow my brow, looking away from him, annoyed that he thought my assumption was a bit too funny. To which I hear,

"why would I take you somewhere like here if I wanted you? My rooms so much nicer. Sound proof too." It sounded like he was whispering it directly into my ear, I could almost feel his hot breath as he said it. Flustered I turn my head to where I thought I heard it, and again, he's nowhere to be found.

I try to shake the fluster from my face, and head back to searching the room, nothing in here looks especially exciting, or suspicious, until I hear a stone hit the full-length window Infront of me. Peering out I see a figure in the alley opposite, hunched over, bobbing his back slightly up and down. I look closer and see puddles of red by its feet.

"Gojo, I think it's outside!" I shout, hoping he's still somewhere in the house, to which the figure abruptly stands bolt up right, as if it heard me, span around and bolted toward me at top speed. Before I could even stumble backwards, it crashed through the window and landed ontop of me, pinning me to the ground and snapping his jaws an inch from my face. I let out a loud shriek as I try to push the beast off of me, but it's sheer force felt like it was merging me with the floorboards. I tried to fling my head up to headbutt it, but it felt like I headbutted a concrete wall, I instantly lose consciousness from the force.

I awake to the fresh air hitting my face, as I realise I'm in Gojo's arms, carrying me out of the building. I look up at him and see a stern, concerned look on his face, as he rushes me to a car. I black out again. When I come too again finally, I'm in my own bed, in an oversized t shirt and trousers that were 100 times too big for me, with the sound of footsteps outside my door. It sounded like someone pacing outside my door, as I open my mouth to speak, an immense pain filled my brain as I grabbed at my head and groaned. The footsteps stopped, and my door flung open.

"You're alive! Thank god! The elders won't have my head for killing the newbie. Phew." An exaggerated sign of relief left his mouth as he realised I was now conscious again.

"As soon as we arrived back at Jujitsu, Shoko took care of you and instructed me to let you rest, and to keep guard outside your door incase you woke with a concussion and needed help." He seemed less cheerful than usual, as caution donned his beautiful face.

Still grabbing at my head with one hand, I tried to chuckle but nothing came out. I grabbed at my throat and felt deep lacerations run along my jugular. In a panic I sit bolt up right, clutching at my throat, trying to make any sound auditable.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he says, rushing to the side of my bed, placing his hands on mine and bringing them slowly away from my scars. " You'll be okay, Shoko said it'll take a few days for your voice to come back, but after that you'll be absolutely fine. That bastard got you good, I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it before it got to you." Disappointment flooded his face, and I try to muster a smile, and shake my head. I use my fingers to sign "it's okay" in BSL, this clearly perplexed him. He looked down at my fingers, back at my face, back to my fingers and back to my face again, with an blank stare.

"Errrrr, what? I didn't think you knew about domain expansions yet...what the hell are you trying to do?!" He grabbed at my hands and pushed them into my lap, completely confused he looks back at my hands.

I try to giggle and make a pen and paper gesture as he frees my hands, to which he runs off and riffles through my draws to find. It's on my nightstand next to me, but he continues to dramatically find said pen and paper. Holding pairs of my pants, glancing at them and slightly giggling to himself quietly, like a school boys first time seeing girls pants, he throws them behind him and finally finds a pen and some scrap paper. Returning to my side, he passes them to me and after scribbling for a second, I shove the paper in his face that simply reads,

"GIVE THEM BACK."

I stare at his pocket and give the "give me" gesture with my hand, clasping it open and shut repeatedly. He pulls a bright pink thong from his pocket.

"Ooooh, how did THEY get in there. Heh." He chuckles, tilting his head sideways and giggling to himself.

I scribble again. 'Nice try.'

He jumps up from the side of my bed and rushes out the door. 'fuck me then I guess... Bye?' I start to scribble, hoping he'd look back before disappearing, but it was too late. Having left my door wide open, I try to get out of bed to close it and immediately topple to the floor. I couldn't feel my feet. I look up, defeated, and see him stood in my doorway again, this time holding 3 notebooks, about 10 pens, and 2 bags full of small boxes.

"As nice as you look on your knees Infront of me, what part of rest do you not understand?" He whisks me up in an instant and puts me back into bed. "Now, here's some food and plenty of paper so you can scribble your demands to your own personal Gojo nurse." He places his hands on his hips, comically striking a fanciful pose before catching a glimpse of a note on my bed out of the corner of his eye.

"hmm what's my next demand? Oh... Fuck me? Well...straight to the point I see." He smirks, holding the paper tightly in his hands. My face turns bright red as I scramble for the note books to explain that it was part of a previous note, to which he pulls them away from me and leans down close, looking at me from over his glasses. "Maybe when you're all better." He winks and clicks his tongue at me.

"Anyway, this nurse has to run some errands quickly, I'll be back in a little while. At least pretend to rest, I can see you're already pretty stubborn, but there's this new ice-cream flavour I've been meaning to try, and I know JUST the movie we have to watch later. Cya!" I lay my head back into the pillows and clench my eyes shut! Why did it have to be me that lost my voice? It would've been significantly funnier if it were him that lost his ability to ramble! Maybe then I could be his nurse....

After 2 days of Gojo doing his best at play pretend nurse, and sleeping next to me, ontop of the duvet every night in case I needed anything throughout, I finally managed to get my voice to come back!

"Fuck off" I lowly grumble, as my voice finally starts to become somewhat audible. It's a low, croaky husk, but it counts!

"Of course your first words are an insult to me." Gojo giggles, trying to help me stand but ultimately pushing me back onto the bed as I topple backwards.

"Seeeee, be nice to your nurse or she'll spike your meds." He taunts, looking down at me struggling to sit back up.

"Now that you're all better, I guess I can finally leave this smelly room and go back to my glorious kind size bed. Ooooh how I've missed comfort of any kind. These last few weeks of sleeping on nothing but ROCKS on the floor have ravished my good looks and fragile body!" He lays his arm over his forehead dramatically, pretending he's been at all hard done by.

"you....had...most....of....the...bed....every....night..." I slowly grumble, throwing a notebook at him, narrowly missing him.

"Yeah yeah, it might as well of been rocks on the floor, how do you sleep on that horrible thing?! I feel like I've aged 30 years already." He leans back, clicking his back and bends forward, stretching his lower back muscles, then waltzes to the door.

"Right, don't forget, if you need anything, ask literally anyone else from now on, Kay?" He smirks and with that, hes gone.

I won't lie, having his undivided attention and company these past few days has been nice. I find myself missing it already...a DVD case hurled its way towards me, hitting me in the middle of my forehead.

"Oh, and we're watching THIS tonight." I hear from the shadows of the corridor.

"At...least....close...the....DOOR..." I try to shout, grabbing at my throat.

After a terrible movie, I can barely keep my eyes open through, I find myself drifting off towards the last half of the film. When I wake I'm snuggled into Gojo's chest, with his head hanging back on my bedframe, snoring loudly. Careful not to wake him, I lay my head back down gently and smile at the position we've found yourself in.

A low, tired voice mumbles, "I saw that." Eyes still closed, smiling at me, I feel his arm pull me slightly closer into him, before his snoring continues.

The next few days I worked on getting my balance back and my voice better. Gojo had to go off on another mission, but promised to bring me back some fancy porno mags he finds at his next destination. I find myself sulking that I now had to sleep by myself again at night, and realized just how much I did miss his comforting snores. I turned to class the day after he left, finding comfort in the routine returning, I couldn't help but find myself looking towards the door every couple of hours. He hadn't returned in 4 days now, were his missions usually this long? Was our recuperation session too much for him, feeling bad about potentially leading me on, was he now avoiding me?

After a week of no Gojo, and my first chance at trying training again, I hear a chuckle from Geto as he watches Megumi wipe the floor with me, hardly holding back at all.

"You'd think he'd try to be more gentlemanly wouldn't you? Especially after what you went through, but alas, still a child with the trophy in his sights." Getos gentle smile made the pain ease slightly, as he gestured for me to walk with him.

"Now, please don't feel like you have to accept this invitation, especially not in your current state, but I spoke to Saturo and we both decided it would be good for you to get back out into the field." His calming voice settled any worries that arose from the initial statement, I agreed and asked him to assure me I was going to be a hindrance on whoever I was joining.

"Don't worry, you'll be joining me. It's only a Grade 3 curse, and even in your weakened state I'm confident even you could best it." He turns his head towards me, smiling gently still, and I accept.

"Perfect. We leave in 20."

"Right...now?" I confusingly express, looking down at my dirty uniform. "I don't think I have...enough time to change and....meet you back here in time." My voice still hurting to speak, but slowly regaining it's original tone.

"Don't worry, we'll only be an hour at best, I'm sure you'll be fine." He reassures me, and walks me to the archway, awaiting our car.

After a short ride, we arrive at the edge of the city, immediately Geto runs from the car and enters a building to our left.

"I don't know why he offered to take you to this, he's almost as fast as Gojo, and in your state, you'll be lucky to meet the door before he's finished absorbing it." Ijichi explains, a worried brow creases his forehead.

"I'm sure I'll..be fine." I whisper, stepping outside of the car. I walk towards the building Geto ran into and immediately get bombarded with curses spilling out of the now flung open door. They force me to the floor and trample me.

"Ambush!" I hear Geto scream, I hear ijichi's footsteps running towards me before a hand grabbing the front of my shirt rips me into the stampede and carries me away.

I try to scramble my way out of the mass, before darkness enshrouds me and completely blocks my view. A voice suddenly bellows from above me,

"Two men trying to protect you? You must be worth something." The mass parts like the red sea above me, peeling away a curtain of bodies to show a woman, floating above me. A slender woman with a low cut top, miniskirt and a long flowing black jacket, floated down towards me.

"I could have sworn Gojo and Geto were getting it on, but then I see him straddling you in that abandoned building, and I just thought....let me guess, Geto lets you share him on the weekends?" She smirked, tracing my jaw with a finger. I pull my face away and try to swipe at her, she laughs slightly and appears next to me,

"I wouldn't blame you yano, they're both so intoxicating aren't they! I can smell the aroma of love leaking from your pours, you're almost as in love as I am, now tell me....which one?" I lay back, trying to flick my legs out to kick her but with the bodies still moving under me, and her immense speed becoming even more apparent, I flail and nearly get sucked back under the mass supporting me.

"Lust. Leave her be. She's a newbie, a nobody." I hear Gojo's voice from the surrounding area, the woman lets out a flirtatious laugh and the mass slowly, dropping the support as I crash on the ground. As the mass dissipates, I suddenly feel a weight on my back, it's her, she's now sat on me.

"So you've succumbed to your urges and are straddling nobodies now are you, Gojo? I thought you had a little more restraint than that." She reaches down, starting to play with my hair. I try to roll over but then she appears, straddling me now.

"I mean, I wouldn't blame you, she's kinda cute... especially when she's scared." She leans forward and tries to press her lips onto mine, I fling my hand into her bright white hair and pull it from behind, forcing her to arch back up.

"Feisty too, I see why you like her." She giggles, slashing giant claws at my stomach and appearing instantly next to Gojo who now stands almost at my feet, lunging towards me. She reaches to grab him by the collar but her hand gets blocked by an invisible wall. She chuckles and gets forcefully pushed away as Gojo spins around and flicks his fingers in her direction.

Pulling me to my feet, he takes out a bandage from his back pocket and shoves it into my hands, forcefully.

"Fix yourself up, " he looks down at the blood pooling at our feet, "FUCK!" he grabs me, as I start to fall to my knees.

"it's not my blood Gojo!" I pant, desperately looking to see if his shirt is soaked in any way.

"Its..mine." Geto mumbles, dropped from above us to our feet. Large lacerations cover his chest and arms, as the woman laughs at her artwork lacing his body.

Gojos eyes widen as he suddenly grabs both me and Getos arms. Suddenly we were then flung into the car, as Gojo desperately orders ijichi to take us to Shoko. He slams the doors and we speed off. I try to help stop the bleeding from Getos chest as he pants that hes fine. I look back out the car window and see flashes of red and blue fill the sky.

"He'll be fine...he's bested her before. He always wins. That beautiful maniac always wins." Geto musters between pants as I try to apply pressure to his wounds. He lets his head drop back down as he passes out.

After Shoko meets us at the gates, and ijichi helps carry Geto to her office, she fixes us up. I only have minor bruising and scraps, so she focuses her attention on Geto who's significant bleeding doesn't slow. After an hour or so, she finally fixes him up and orders me away, I return to my room and flop on my bed, still terrified that Gojo was fighting that lady in the alleyway.

I jolt awake after having apparently passed out from exhaustion, to Gojo laying next to me, panting heavily, his beautiful white hair now strained with blood splatters. His shirt ripped open and trousers barely held on to his hips, as I automatically placed a hand on his chest.

"Such....a....bitch" he pants, barely able to control his breathing. I pull my hand away as he grabs it, putting it back in its place on him.

"Not you, idiot, that stupid bitch from before. She nearly got me a few times there, who the hell strips naked half way through a fight anyway?!" His annoyance seemed to disappear as he spoke, "kinda hot though so, can't really complain." He giggles, half opening an eye to look at me.

"Seeing her straddle you too, whilst trying to make out with you," he makes a chefs kiss pose with his hand to his lips, " now that's something I won't forget for awhile." His grin fades slowly as he starts to snore, he's clearly exhausted so I let him rest, pulling a blanket over him as he lay half sprawled across the bed on top of the duvet.

I slowly slide out of the bed and head to the kitchen area of the building to get him some water and food, when I turn around and drop the glass shattering on the floor. He stood leaning against the doorframe; his usual stance apparently now, with his shirt still undone, and now in his boxers which also barely clung to his hips, it seemed even the slightest breeze would make them fall to the floor revealing his manhood. His head hung lower and soft pants leaving his mouth.

"Don't leave me high and dry like that, I wanted to snuggle." Lifting his head slightly, he flashes a soft half smile at me.

"I...er..wanted to get you some food and...wait, snuggle?" I let out an embarrassed chuckle as I try to sweep the floor of the remaining glass shards. As I'm bent down I feel his back suddenly pressed against mine as he lays over me, his head over my shoulder,

"Carry me to bed. I'm tiiiired."

"if we weren't back to back I could, now get...off." I shove backwards getting him to stumble to his feet,

"HEY! I took care of you, now it's time to return the favour! I don't want Shoko touching me everywhere, scolding me for not being more careful, and for letting you and Geto get hurt, AGAIN."

"GETO! Is he okay?!" The worry in my voice apparently stirring something in him,

"Yeah yeah, your boyfriends fine. It'll take more than a pair of tits to bring him down. Well, now that I say that..." Jealousy lingers on his lips as he trails off, chuckling to himself.

"Oooo someones jealous." I tease, putting the shards in the bin and fixing him a new drink. "Now, let's get back and I can be your nurse this time." My face flusters as I actually said this out loud, instead of keeping it inside.

"My nurse ey?" He tilts his head and looks at me over his glasses, raising his eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

I try to hide my flustered face as I turn to walk out the door,

"C'mon now, time to change your adult diaper." I giggle, trying desperately to walk away from this awkward situation I had put myself in.

"Nah, I think it's time for a bubble bath. You proooooomised."

Getting back to my room, he flops on the bed face down and lets out an exhausted long moan. I perch next to him and trace my fingers up and down his back, comforting him.

"Mmmmmm... Up a bit, left a bit, down a bit, yeeeeeeeah" he shudders, directing my light tickles. He spins around and as I pull away, he places my hand back on his abdomen and lets out a needy 'hmm' as he drags my hand up and down frantically, implying he wants me to do the same but to his front now. As I try to copy the patterns I did on his back, I can't help but trace the indentations of his abs, terrified of tracing a little too close to his pelvis.

"You're allowed to go lower y'know, I don't bite. Not when I'm this exhausted anyway." He lets out a soft chuckle as he keeps his eyes closed and flings an arm over his eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I bet I am." I tease, circling back round to the top half of his stomach. He grabs my hand and slowly starts to drag it lower.

"Can you do it there for me please? It kinda tickles." He leads my hand so I'm tracing over his hips, just an inch away from where his waist band sits. I can feel the nervousness rise in my body as I'm practically glowing red now. I feel a throbbing sensation take over my body. I pull my hand away and sit back slightly, clearly uncomfortable with this new sensation filling me to the brim. He pulls his arm slightly up from his right eye, sleepily peering out at me,

"Not like it? That's fine, sorry I asked." He lets his arm fall back over his eye.

"It's not...nevermind." I make my way to the top of the bed and climb under the duvet, careful not to kick him in the top of the head as I wiggle my legs under. He sits up and climbs himself under the duvet too, he needily forces his head under my arm and cuddles to my chest.

"Mmmm. Now I get to be the little koala." His head nestles between my boobs as he sinks into me, I immediately feel my chest start to race.

"Y'alright? Sounds like you've run a marathon." He sleepily exhales, as he snuggles closer into my chest, almost suffocating himself.

"Hmhm." I muster, trying to control my breathing. Was he blissfully unaware that he was nearly suffocating, or did he genuinely just not care? I lay my head back and continue to trace my fingers along his back as he nestles into me.

"Can you even breathe in there?" I chuckle, looking down at him, my boobs covering his nose and mouth almost entirely. He nestles deeper into his chest, almost pushing me back further into the mattress. A muffled 'mmhmm' comes from his mouth. His arm drapes across my waist as he comes up for air, his white hair a mess covering most of his face.

"Built in cushions, you're lucky yano that!"

"Well I can't exactly use them myself now can I?" I giggle, looking down at him all doey eyed and sleepy.

"True, my bad." He nestles down back into them, "more for me then." He says muffled, back into the 'built in pillows'.

I lay my head back and softly chuckle, as I feel his hand move slowly towards my hips. So slow infact, for a second I assumed I was making it up, but as I realize he is indeed moving, my legs tighten together. He lets out a soft laughing exhale and flattens his warm hands on my waist band.

"Don't worry, I'm only teasing." He muffled, still content with barely being able to breathe.

"I'll let you wiggle if you want me to carry on." Suddenly I am incredibly aware of every muscle in my body, instinctively I try not to move, thoughts racing through my mind.

"Oh yeah, a thinker." He giggles to himself. I lightly tap the back of his head in annoyance, and a low annoyed 'mmm' comes from him.

"I wouldn't want to take advantage of a poor, injured boy." I say, flustered, terrified to let him know my body now physically aching for him to continue.

"Poor? Boy?" He lifts his head up slightly, looking up at me with his eyes half open. "Poor? Definitely not. Boy? Even less likely. " He pushes his hand slightly harder onto my waistband. As I sharply inhale, he lets out a low giggle and smiles to himself.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I thought." He says, flopping his head back down onto the suffocating mound of my chest.

Almost instinctively my hips move slightly, my body defying my mind, and he slowly moves his pinkie finger so it rests slightly underneath the elastic band of my pants. I sharply inhale as he slowly continues to move the rest of his hand lower and lower into my pants.

He begins to leg his middle finger slide down into my creases, applying the slightest twing of pressure on my clit. I jolt and he giggles, inhaling my scent, he pushes his head harder into my chest, as I feel his mouth open slightly. As he begins to slowly circle my clit, I feel him softly kissing my chest, I grab the bedsheet with my other hand and squeeze tightly almost pulling it off the side of the mattress. Getting faster with his circling, I arch my back and feel euphoria fill my body, as he slides his fingers down and teases the entrance to my pussy. I let out a slight moan as I grind into his hand, he lifts his head and starts to push his hips into the side of me. Kissing my neck, he slowly enters a finger into me, his long appendage reaching places I never could, and I feel him press on the spongey button I was completely unaware was inside me. A sharp exhale leaves me breathless as I grab the back of his hair. Sliding teasingly slowly into and out of me, I feel his other hand reach down as he starts to rub his cock. A low growling 'mmmm' leaves his closed lips as he starts to turn my hips towards him, I feel him get faster with his thrusts, each time pressing harder and harder inside me. As he quickens, I feel him rubbing the tip of his head onto my clit, up and down slowly teasing me with soaking wet I already am. I grab his hand and pull it from me, and as I do so, he reaches round to grab my hips and pulls me closer to him.

Reaching down he guides his precum glistening head to the entrance of my pussy and stops, teasing me. He reaches down to grab my thigh and pulls it so it's now hooked over the top of his hip as we face each other. He nudges his chin on top of my head, to get me to look up at him, as his glassy lips softly meet mine. Before embracing he whispers into my open mouth,

"Tell me to do it." His low voice almost heavenly whispering to me. "Tell me to put it in you. Tell me to fuck you. T,tell me."

"P,please. Please fuck me. I need to feel you." I beg. And as this escapes my lips, me thrusts his throbbing head into me.

"Think you can take it?" He proudly asks, holding the back of my neck with his hand.

"Make it fit, make me take it." I instruct, completely dickdrunk already, before he's even done anything to me really. He lets out a devious exhale and his smirk widens, as he pulls me closer to him, thrusting deeper into me.

With a sharp inhale, I now see what he means, barely half way in and I'm already struggling to breathe. I swear he's about to rearrange my womb to my throat at this rate. He starts to thrust in and out of me, slowly at first, trying to inch more and more of himself inside of me, before I dip my heel into the back of his hip, and pull him all the way in. We both gasp at the sheer pleasure of his now soft pubes meeting my clit, as he then pushes me to my back and presses his hand next to head onto the mattress. Holding onto my thigh with his other hand, he begins to thrust his cock deep inside me, each thrust filling me up like he's trying to push the air from my lungs. With each thrust, my moans become louder and longer, he shoves his tongue into my mouth as we begin to moan between flicks. He sits back and puts my leg over his shoulder, one hand on my lower stomach and the other around my throat, he now begins to pick up the pace.

"Say it. Say my name. Let everyone know who's pussy this is." He grunts, digging his nails into the ankle he's holding.

"Sat...Sat...Saturo...It's...yours...I'm yours.." I gasp, desperately trying to get my brain to form any coherent words. Pounding harder and harder, I can feel every vein, every muscle contracting inside of me, he lets go of my throat and slaps me across the face.

"Yeah, that's right, let everyone hear...you're fucking Gojo, the greatest sorcerer in the world. And you're going to have his cum leaking out of you for days." Grunting, sweat dropping down his Adams apple onto me, I open my mouth to taste it.

"Oh, you wanna TASTE me now do you?" He smirks, "Well, if I wasn't so hellbent on cumming inside of you, I would've let you taste all of me." He grabs my face, and thrusts slower, deeper inside of me. I feel him swell bigger with each longer thrust, as he releases his hot cum inside of me, failing slightly closer to me, he catches his fall with his arm placed next to me.

He lets out a low giggle as he stays inside me, his white hair dripping wet with sweat, strewn across his face.

"Well," he pants, "I'm sure everyone now knows who's pussy this is." Closing my eyes I let out a laugh between deep pants, and moan and a quiet 'yeah' from my lips.

He pulls himself out me, a string of cum still connecting his head to my pussy, he flops next to me. Both frantically panting, he looks over at me and a sweet smile grows on his face.

"Yano, I could do better. Give me five and I'll try again." He chases the sweat dripping in-between my chest down to my belly button, and slaps the tiny pool of sweat gathered there. I flinch and swat his hand away.

"I'm barely conscious as is, how about 10?" I mumble, barely able to keep my eyes open.

He climbs back ontop of me, cock still hard, he leans in close to my ear and whispers,

"I meant seconds."

[aforeffective]

moving day

a helping hand au blurb | paul + curtis bros, background chetsoda, parry exes | au explanation here

it was an odd feeling for pony, moving out of the house he grew up in. even weirder is knowing that the house wasn't fully out of his life. he doesn't know if that makes it better or worse, knowing him and soda are moving out, while darry is being left behind.

pony shook those thoughts out of his head as he looked up from his notebook at the sound of someone speaking.

"aren't you supposed to be packing?" it was chet, one of paul's soc friends. another odd thing that seemed to be the new normal in the curtis house: socs. in the few weeks it took for all the paperwork to be filed and everything to be settled, paul and darry had introduced the boys to some of paul's friends, hoping to make the adjustment easier.

chet wasn't too bad, though. he was kinda funny and pony had vague memories of him hanging around soda when they were young so him being in the curtis house wasn't that freaky of a sight. it was the time paul brought cherry valance and bob sheldon over that made pony question how his life ended up like this.

"i'm drawing the house. don't wanna forget what it looks like." that wasn't actually what he was drawing but chet didn't need to know that.

chet put his hands up in surrender and shrugged. "where's soda? in your room?"

"yeah, him and steve are in there, finishing up packing. soda decided to wait til the last minute."

chet laughed to himself as he waved to pony and started down the hall to help the other boys pack.

pony put his notebook into his backpack, figuring now that even more people were here to help, he should also start doing something. unlike soda, pony had decided to pack his couple of boxes the day before. it didn't take that long, he didn't need to take everything. just the stuff he would really need or want for the next couple of weeks while he gets settled at paul's; then they can go through and see what else he needs and what else they need to move or possibly buy.

"do y'all need help?" pony called out to paul and darry as he walked outside to darry's truck in the driveway.

darry looked at paul and then the truck before answering. "nah. just one more box to load in the truck. i think we're just gonna drive this over and let soda and chet use paul's car to bring soda's boxes over."

pony looks over at paul's car and laughed. "i don't think that car is even big enough to fit just his hair products."

darry laughed as we walked by pony, smacking his shoulder. "don't act like you don't have a whole bag full of different gels and greases."

pony turned to smack him back but he dodged out of the way, going back inside to grab the last box. pony whipped back around when he heard paul laughing.

"it wasn't that funny." paul's laughter didn't stop so pony rolled his eyes and continued. "so now that you and darry are coparenting-"

this made paul's laughter stop as he choked on his surprise. "what? i wouldn't call it coparenting. don't call it that."

pony raised his eyebrow, noticing the older boy's face becoming red. "is that not what you're doing?"

paul lifted his hand to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck as he answered. "no. i mean, not really. we're just working together to make sure you guys are staying housed and fed and to keep you guys out of trouble."

"wow. if only there were a word for that." pony faked a gasp, as he tried to hold back his laughter at the look of irritation on paul's face. "oh wait, there is! coparenting."

"okay, you don't have to be a smartass." despite paul's words, pony could hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

pony quickly looked back to make sure darry was still inside before turning back to paul, lowering his voice. "dude, you can't swear around me. darry's like super strict about it, for some reason. he'll be upset if he hears you saying stuff like that around me. even dally knows not to because darry freaks."

paul's eyes widened, terrified of doing something that will upset darry. "wait, seriously? like for real? shit- i mean, not- no," a look of realization crosses paul's face as he shakes his head and continues. "wait, no. i've heard him and the gang swear around you before! fuck you, dude. you had me for a second."

as pony had been messing with paul, darry had come back outside with the last box in his arms. he nudged pony as he walked by. "okay, pone, take it easy on him."

"what? he knows i'm just messing with him." darry rolls his eyes at his youngest brother while he places the last box in the truck.

"okay, come on, let's go. you coming along for the ride, pony?"

pony nodded and went to get in the truck. paul opened the passenger door, letting pony slide in first.

"thanks, dad." pony said as he sat down, giving paul the biggest grin he could.

darry let out a loud laugh as he got into the drivers seat, shutting up once he noticed paul's glare at him.

"do not call me that, oh my god."

paul got in the truck as pony spoke. "well why not?"

"because it's weird. i'm only 6 years older than you, ya know?"

darry rolled his eyes as he began driving, knowing he was about to have to listen to pony purposely annoy paul and paul continuously falling for it for the whole day.

"are you not legally my father now?"

darry interrupted the conversation before paul could answer pony. "so, are you regretting it yet?"

pony laughed and looked towards paul expectantly. "well, are you?"

paul just smiled at the boys, knowing this decision was something he would never regret. "not yet, only because i have a voice chanting in my head that he's doing it on purpose to be a little shit."