#plus to actually get to chat with him at trainings

[fazcinatingblog]

Good night Tumblr xx

[marsuni]

actively learning how real tumblr’s vernacular is and how out of pocket it is to those unfamiliar when you say it out loud

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 1

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

word count: 3.5k

warnings: fwb should be warning in itself, jungkook is a simp and a hot nerdy professor (yummm), oc has a tabby cat named miso, bam makes his first appearance, jungkook has a big ol' crush on oc, some unrequited romantic feelings (?) we're not sure yet, explicit sexual content; making out, kook has heart eyes for oc's boobs, five second strip show, like a split second of male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), a teeny wheeny bit of fingering, oc rides that thang like a cowgirl, unprotected sex (oc is on birth control and they're both clean), plus some angsty vibes at the end :(((

author's note: part 1 is out my dudes !!! 😭😭 i hope you enjoy this little introduction to jungkook and oc, and i can't wait to start exploring their dynamic a little more in depth in the next parts!! i'm so excited to go on this journey with you all, so pls make sure to follow, reblog, and send me an ask if you want to chat about these cuties 🤪 part 2 coming soon !

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the end of the day and Jungkook is on his way out, heading home after an exhausting day at the university. He walks down the corridor, his phone in hand, his eyes trained to his phone as he checks his emails.

You step out of your office, shutting the door and straightening your bag on your shoulder. You dig through it for your office keys, locking up once you find them. He looks up from his phone for a second and spots you, a smile tugging at his lips as he pockets his phone and walks over to you.

He leans against the wall next to your door, arms crossed, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey,” he murmurs with a little grin.

“Hey, Kook,” you greet softly, walking away to head home, Jungkook peeling himself off the wall to walk next to you.

“Long day?” he asks with a sympathetic smile.

You love your job, really, you do. But some days are draining and dealing with young adults who don't even know how to reference their sources for an essay or spell parliament properly can actually drive you to drink. “Mm, thank God the day's over,” you chuckle, looking over at him as you walk down the stone walkway together, the sun slowly starting to set on campus.

He chuckles, looking over at you to catch the way the golden hour light casts a pretty yellowish-orange glow over your skin, his eyes quickly diverting down to the ground to stop himself from staring, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Hey, uhm...if you don't have any plans tonight, do you maybe wanna come over to my place?” he asks, feeling like an awkward teenager with a crush every time he asks you that, even if he's done it ten dozen times by now. He knows why he's inviting you over. You know why he's inviting you over.

“Yeah, sure,” you say casually, heading in the direction of the parking lot to get to your car. You see it in its usual parking spot, right next to his, just like it is every day, like a silent declaration that you're a package deal.

His heart really shouldn't do that weird thump-thump thing that it does every time you agree to come over, but it does, and it might just be heart disease, but he is yet to get it under control. “Cool...cool...Is 7 okay for you?” he asks, taking out his keys as he approaches his car, leaning against the driver's door with a little smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I'll just go home and change out of these clothes and feed Miso then I'll head over,” you murmur absentmindedly while you dig through your bag for your car keys, searching through the endless pit of earphones, a tangled phone charger, lip liner, lip gloss, and ten thousand receipts for things you don't even remember buying. He watches you with a faint smile, knowing how messy that bag is, but also knowing that if he lectures you about it, your response will be, 'you don't get it, you're not a woman' so he minds his business and stands by patiently.

“You can go, I'll manage,” you mumble, your eyebrows furrowed, a soft pout on your lips as you rummage through the leather bag. He chuckles and cocks his head to the side, finding it quite amusing. “You sure? I feel like I could find the cure for cancer before you find your keys in that thing.”

“You should quit teaching and go into comedy,” you mutter dryly, finally finding the damn keys. “Ha. Found it,” you quip, smiling sarcastically before unlocking the car. He shakes his head with a soft smile, rolling his eyes as he gets in his own car. He'll get you back for your sass, but he knows that his 'punishments’ feel more like a reward than anything else.

You go home and feed Miso, the grey tabby lounging around like she's the queen of your apartment, completely unbothered that you're only staying for a little while before eventually leaving again to get dicked down hang out with Jungkook. You put on some comfortable sweats and give her a few kisses and cuddles before heading over to Jungkook's place.

This is a regular thing for you guys. You remain professional at work, well, as professional as two people who are hooking up can be, and then you go over to his place, or vice versa, and sometimes there's wine, sometimes there's dinner, sometimes you go straight to the sexy part, or sometimes there's no sexy part at all because one of you just wants to talk or watch a movie. It works for you. It's easy. It feels good. Really good.

He's a good friend. He's kind, he's a good listener, and he's all those nice, sweet, lovely things. He's also really good in bed, which is always a bonus in a...friend.

Good friends offer to drive you home from the club when you've had one too many to drink. Good friends support you in times of need. Good friends go down on you until your legs shake. That's just how it is.

"Slow down, you're gonna choke," he chuckles, watching you stuff your face with Indian takeout. It's like a competitive sport when the two of you eat dinner, which is one of the things you like most about hanging out with Jungkook. There is no pressure to be perfect. You can act the way you really want to and not feel scrutinized for it. Maybe it's just because his big fat crush has completely tinted the way he sees you, but he'd happily watch you pig out if it means he gets to spend time alone with you.

“I thought you like it when I choke a little bit,” you tease, just wanting to get a reaction out of him, and that's exactly what you get. He nearly chokes on his food, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide as he looks over at you.

“Jesus Christ, ___, you can't just say stuff like that,” he coughs, trying to compose himself, roughly clearing his throat to not die via chicken biryani. It’s quite a strange thing how he can go from this to a sex god in bed, not that it's anything for you to complain about.

Jungkook does the dishes after dinner which allows you to enjoy some alone time with Bam. The brown doberman plops down on the couch, practically begging to be cuddled. He’s always been quite fond of you, since Jungkook adopted him three years ago. He’s the sweetest boy. He loves being loved on, much like his father.

Jungkook watches as you give Bam “lovies” as you call it, the dog absolutely basking in the attention.

“I’m starting to think he likes you more than me,” Jungkook jokes with a scoff, smiling as Bam does his ‘sit/lay down’ tricks for you. What a showoff.

“He’s never gotten that comfortable with anyone who isn't me,” he murmurs with a soft smile, watching the two excited puppies in his living room. “He gets really excited when he knows you're coming over.”

“Bam, cut it out. I’m Miso’s mommy, she’s going to get jealous,” you playfully scold him, although the scratches you give him say otherwise. He’s just a doe-eyed, dark-haired, soft-hearted boy. Again, much like his father.

Jungkook finishes drying the dishes and practically shoves Bam out the way to get the same attention from you. He lays down on the couch with his head in your lap and you already know what he wants. You lightly scratch his scalp, watching his eyes flutter shut, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, relishing in the feeling of your fingers in his hair. Sex is great, but there's something about moments like this that just makes him want to get down on his knees and give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.

“I think Bam-ie’s upset,” you chuckle, looking over at him with a soft, apologetic smile, his father looking anything but sorry. He chuckles as he watches Bam quietly stroll back to the bedroom, his eyes fluttering shut once more when you do that thing with your nails that sends shivers down his spine.

“He’ll live,” he scoffs, wincing when you give his hair a firm tug, his lips puffing up into a pout.

You don't really remember how exactly you ended up on his lap with your hands in his hair and his lips peppering your jaw and neck with gentle, tender kisses, but you know that it feels good.

“We’ve been so busy lately, we’ve barely gotten a chance to do this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands trailing up your thighs to rest at your hips.

You scoff, your eyes fluttering shut as he sucks on that sweet spot behind your ear. It's true. You’ve both been so busy with work that you haven't hung out or had sex in two weeks.

“I know. I’ve been relying on my vibrator.”

He feels a shrill of heat run through him at the thought of you pleasuring yourself, as if he hasn't already seen the actual thing live in-person.

“Yeah? Is he better than me?” he teases with a little grin, pressing soft kisses to your pulse point.

“First of all; she, and I mean…she gets the job done,” you tease, not wanting to outright admit that nothing and no one can make you cum the way he does.

“You couldn't have just said no?” he chuckles, leaning his head back to rest against the back of the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at you. “Maybe I should get myself a toy too…y’know, for when you're too busy,” he teases with a lazy grin.

“What, like a pocket pussy?” you laugh.

“Mm. Something like that.”

“I’d prefer you to be inside me instead of a fake vagina,” you quip, leaning in to press a feather-like kiss to his lips, just testing the waters a bit. “Are you gonna think of me when you use it?” you tease, batting your lashes the way you know makes him go a little weak.

He swallows thickly, nodding like he’s hypnotised. “Of course I’d think of you,” he murmurs, his hips bucking up in a sad attempt to get you to give him some friction. “It wouldn't compare to you though. Nothing compares to you.” His voice is soft and airy, sounding almost pathetic.

You feel a little smile tug at your lips, your resolve slowly slipping. He’s so open about his thoughts and feelings. He’s not afraid to be vulnerable and lay it all out there, even if it is just sex.

His heart does that stupid thump-thump thing again at the sight of your smile, but now really isn't the time to psychoanalyse that, so he pushes that thought away for later.

“Can you take this off for me?” He slips his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your sweatshirt, getting a bit antsy to see more of you.

He’s never really given it too much thought whether he’s an ass or tits typa guy, but when you pull your sweatshirt over your head and his eyes land on that black bra with the little pink bows, the one that you know he likes so much, he swears he’s never seen anything prettier.

“God, I love these.” He leans his head forward to press soft little kisses to the tops of your breasts, his hands trailing up the sides of your ribs. “My pretty girls.”

Your eyes fall shut, the butterflies starting to flutter in the pit of your stomach. Sex with him is so soft and sweet. He says nice things and he makes you feel good, both physically and emotionally, and that makes your anxiety spike just a tad, so you deflect.

“Do you always make conversation with a woman’s tits before you stick it in her or…?”

He chuckles, and it's deep and warm, a little comforting, like if hot cocoa had a voice.

“Take this off. Wanna see them,” he murmurs softly, lightly tugging at the strap of your bra to let it snap back against your skin.

You roll your eyes, but the faint smile on your lips tells him that you're more than happy to oblige. You reach back to unclasp it, letting the material fall from your body, his eyes growing a shade darker at your exposed skin.

He swirls his tongue around a nipple and sucks before repeating the same thing on the other side, giving both breasts the attention they deserve. His eyes flutter shut like he wants to savour every little moment with you.

You reluctantly get up off his lap, and before he can protest, you're discarding the rest of your clothing, sliding your sweatpants down your legs. He makes quick work of following your lead by removing his shirt and pants, his boxers following quickly behind.

You make a little show of removing your panties, and you would normally be embarrassed by the amount of moisture that has already accumulated inside the flimsy material, but right now, all you can focus on is his hand giving his cock a few lazy strokes while he watches you undress for him.

“C’mere.” He spreads his legs a bit, his cock already almost fully hard, the tip slowly turning a light shade of pink. You'd never thought of a cock as 'pretty' before, but damn, it's pretty.

You do as he says without a single protest or complaint, your pussy practically throbbing at the sight of him. Oh, how wonderful it is to be his friend.

You get down on your knees in front of him, his eyelids hanging low as he looks down at you, his hand pumping his cock.

You pride yourself in being good at oral sex, but it's never been something you particularly love doing. That is, until you started hooking up with Jungkook. Sometimes he’ll just be doing something as simple as watching a show on tv, and you’ll be on your knees with your hair up and his cock hitting the back of your throat. It's everything, from the sounds he makes, to the way his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in ecstasy, that makes it so enjoyable.

You take over for him, giving his cock a few strokes before swirling your tongue around the head, pulling a deep groan from the back of his throat. You start sucking, working your way down his length, occasionally looking up to see that look on his face that makes your pussy clench. He rests his hand at the back of your head, not applying pressure, just wanting to feel more of you as you bob your head up and down a few times.

You give the tip some attention, then go all the way down to the base so that your nose just lightly brushes against his pelvis, then back up again, keeping a nice rhythm. His groans, paired with the way his stomach tenses every time you take him down to the base, is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

“Fuck…baby, stop, please. Don't wanna cum too early,” he murmurs hoarsely, reaching for you to get up and straddle his lap. Your hips slide back and forth, your slick coating him, his dick glistening under the low light of the living room lamp.

“Already? Jesus, Jungkook, have some self-respect.” You can't help but tease him a bit, even in a moment like this, where you're in no position to be making fun of his desperation when you’re as wet as you are.

He scoffs, his hand disappearing between your legs, his middle and ring finger rubbing slow circles over your clit before sliding back to sink into your sopping entrance, shutting you right up.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he teases with a lazy little grin, his fingers slowly pumping in and out, your wetness allowing him to move them without any resistance.

“Don't speak about my daughter at a time like this.”

His laughter gets cut off by your lips crashing into his, his fingers slipping out of you as you lift your hips to align the tip of his cock with your entrance.

“Want me to sit on it?”

“Yeah.” His voice is breathless as the anticipation slowly builds in his gut. No matter how many times you have sex, he’ll never get tired of that rush of adrenaline that flows through him in that moment right before he slides in.

“Ask nicely.”

“___, come on,” he laughs half-heartedly, tilting his head back against the couch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll sit down, Kook,” you whisper, leaning in so that your lips just barely graze against his.

“Please…please, baby. Ride me, please.”

The groan he lets out as you slowly sink down on his cock is enough to send shivers down your spine. It's thick and long, but it's not too big for it to hurt. It fits perfectly, nice and snug like a glove.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters hoarsely, his hands gripping you harder as you begin to roll your hips in that fluid motion that makes him go a little crazy.

It feels like an honour that he gets to see you like this, naked on top of him, riding him deep and slow on his couch after a long day at work. He doesn't know what he ever did in his lifetime to deserve to be balls deep inside you on a Friday night, but he knows that he’s a lucky bastard.

“Just like that. Fuck, you're so tight,” he groans, looking down to watch the way your pussy sucks him in, like something out of a wet dream.

You set a nice pace, riding him just the way he likes it. You reach down to rub circles over your clit, your walls clenching around his cock, pulling soft moans and whimpers from his lips.

“Keep going,” he mutters, his voice trembling. “Fuck, you're gonna make me cum, baby…”

You ride a bit faster, applying more pressure to your clit as you chase your own high. He fights to keep his eyes open, desperately needing to watch you as the pleasure takes over.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” The pleasure creeps up on you and you cum with a breathless moan, your walls fluttering around his length, throbbing and pulsating.

“Gonna…holy shit…gonna cum, baby, don't stop…”

You use the last of your energy to bring him to his peak, moving your hips until his cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath you. He cums with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into your flesh so hard that it might bruise tomorrow.

You continue to grind down on him to help him ride it out. You gently run your fingers through his damp hair, his skin slightly dewy, his eyes squeezed shut. He trembles as the aftershocks flow through him, his breathing coming out a bit uneven.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, looking like he just died and came back to life. He lifts his head to press a soft kiss to your lips, but you pull away before he can deepen it.

“Come on, let go. I gotta go clean up.”

You very rarely allow him to cuddle you after sex. It feels too intimate, too romantic. You don't allow yourself to be romantic with Jungkook. He's not your boyfriend and you like it that way.

He lets out a small hum of disagreement as you lift yourself up, his hands moving to hold your waist.

"Stay here for a little longer," he mumbles softly, his voice drowsy. He looks at you with big doe eyes, trying to persuade you to stay. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You're starting to soften inside me and I have to shower, Kook. You know I hate feeling sticky.”

He reluctantly lets you go, groaning softly as you get up off his lap. "Fine, fine," he grumbles, his eyes following you as you walk over to the bathroom.

You walk off to his bathroom and close the door, locking it behind you. Locking the door is something so simple but it means so much. It means, 'You're not my boyfriend so we can't share that level of intimacy. You can fuck my brains out, but you can't wash my hair in the shower or sit on the toilet while I do my skincare'. It's too coupley.

Jungkook slowly puts his boxers back on, staring at the bathroom door. He knows he’s not your boyfriend. He knows he probably never will be. He knows all your boundaries and your rules and your reasons for having them, but that doesn't make it sting any less. He can't help but wonder what it would feel like if you actually allowed him to love you, but he knows he’s just being foolish and hopeful. He knows that by physically locking that door, you're locking him out of ever getting closer to you emotionally.

Part 2 >

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

[shitsndgiggs]

Can y write Kenan and YN is dating secretly, and when she goes to an event with him as a plus one a girl tries to flirt with kenan infront of her

SILENT CLAIM - KENAN YILDIZ

A girl tries to flirt with Kenan at an event

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The soft hum of chatter and the occasional clink of glasses filled the air as we stepped into the grand event hall.

Kenan’s hand briefly brushed against mine before he tucked it back into his pocket, a small reminder of the secret we were keeping.

Dating Kenan was like living in a bubble—beautiful and exhilarating but fragile. For now, we were just Kenan and me, no public scrutiny, no flashing cameras dissecting our every move.

That’s why I’d agreed to come as his plus one tonight, to be by his side without really being by his side.

“Stay close,” he murmured, leaning in just enough so only I could hear. His warm breath sent a shiver down my spine, but I kept my expression neutral.

“I always do,” I replied softly, catching the faintest smile tug at his lips before he turned to greet one of his teammates.

The evening was polished and glamorous, and I stayed in the background, sipping champagne and letting Kenan navigate the social scene with his usual charm.

Every now and then, his eyes would find mine across the room, a silent check-in that made my heart flutter.

But it wasn’t long before someone decided to disrupt the harmony.

I was chatting with a few people near the edge of the room when I noticed her—a tall, striking woman who had zero hesitation as she sauntered up to Kenan.

Her hand lightly grazed his arm, and she tilted her head, flashing a smile that was just a little too bright.

My grip on the champagne flute tightened as I watched the scene unfold.

“Kenan, right?” she said, her voice carrying just enough to reach where I stood. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself. You’re even more impressive in person.”

Kenan’s polite smile didn’t falter, but I noticed the slight shift in his stance, like he was preparing to deflect whatever was coming next. “Thanks,” he said simply.

She stepped closer, ignoring the space that etiquette usually demanded. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab a drink sometime? You could tell me all about your training routine.”

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to stay calm. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen someone try to get Kenan’s attention, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. The difference was, tonight, I couldn’t step in.

Kenan glanced briefly in my direction, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place—an apology, maybe? Then he cleared his throat. “I appreciate it, but I’m good.”

“Oh, come on,” she pressed, her tone playful but insistent. “Just one drink. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Before I could think better of it, I stepped forward, my heart pounding. “Actually, he’s busy tonight,” I said, my voice calm but firm.

Both of them turned to look at me. Kenan’s lips parted slightly, caught between surprise and amusement, while the woman raised an eyebrow, clearly sizing me up.

“And you are?” she asked, her tone dripping with condescension.

I gave her my most polite smile. “His plus one.”

Her expression faltered for a split second before she recovered, laughing lightly. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

Kenan, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. “Now you do,” he said, his tone carrying just enough edge to make his point.

She muttered something about needing to find her friends before walking away, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Kenan turned to me, his eyes glinting with both gratitude and amusement. “Didn’t know you were coming to my rescue tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You looked like you could use a little help.”

He grinned, stepping closer until the space between us practically disappeared. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant even as my cheeks warmed. “She was annoying. Someone had to say something.”

Kenan chuckled, his hand brushing against mine again, this time lingering for a moment longer. “You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.”

I glanced around, making sure no one was paying us too much attention. “I’m not used to playing the secret girlfriend,” I admitted.

His smile softened. “I know. But soon, I promise.”

“Soon,” I echoed, though the word felt heavier than I wanted to admit.

Kenan’s eyes searched mine, and for a moment, the rest of the room seemed to fade away. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that was just for me.

“For what?”

“For being here. For putting up with all of this.”

I smiled, the tension in my chest easing. “You’re worth it.”

Kenan’s expression shifted, something unspoken passing between us. He nodded slightly, as if to seal a silent agreement.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice low but insistent.

“Don’t you have people to impress?” I teased.

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “The only person I want to impress is you.”

[prismuffin]

Can you please do something for Wally West with a partner who's part of the BatFamily?

I'm sure I can think of a few short headcanons to write, anyway I think- Honestly you being in the BatFam is probably the reason you met Wally in the first place. With him and Dick being such great friends, you two were bound to cross paths at some point. When Wally had first met you he immediately found you attractive but with you being Dicks sibling it was a little awkward to try flirting with you whenever Dick was around. It being awkward didn't necessarily stop him though he'd just wait until Dick was out of earshot or go and find you himself to chat with you. You and him clicked for sure and when you started dating you'd opted to keep it kind of secret since you were unsure of how your brothers and dad would react initially. Damian found you two making out in your room once and completely blackmailed you otherwise he'd tell everyone. It was annoying, but you agreed. He didn't seem to care that you were dating outside of that. Jason was the next person to find out and just congratulated you before jokingly trying to give you both the talk, laughing at how awkward you both got. He did actually threaten Wally to never break your heart though. Tim found out...well...you're actually not sure when he found out exactly but you were trying to get out of training early to go see "a friend" and he just went, "you mean your boyfriend Wally?" You were shocked but he just shrugged it off, saying he wasn't an idiot and could tell you two were sneaking around a lot so he just put two and two together. After finding out Tim knew, you just decided to let everyone know. It could be considered risky but at this point you felt like everyone should just know, plus Damian can't blackmail you anymore so there's that. You'd talked to Wally about it and he was down so one day after a mission with Wally and Dick you'd found a point where everyone was crowded around for the mission debriefing. After all the important stuff had been said you opted for making the announcement right then. Obviously most of your brothers weren't shocked but Dick was. He immediately went to punching Wally for dating his sibling out of nowhere, your dad seemed to approve as long as it didn't get in the way of your missions. Dick wondered why no one else found this extremely shocking and they all just said they knew already which just made Dick even angrier after finding out that he was among the last to know about the two of you. He doesn't always hate the thought of his best friend dating his sibling as long as you two aren't making out in front of him or anything. Overall, you and Wally being together only makes you two stronger on missions and your family seems to approve.

———

Directory

[rekino2114]

Type of dates the p:e.g. girls like

A/n:here is the eden's garden fluff post hope you enjoy and that it's not too late to at least ease a bit of the trauma

Eva tsunaka

She likes board games date

She has a lot of tabletop games that she likes to play with you, and so she just invites you to her dorm, and you two do a board game night

She prepares snacks and everything so you can go on for a long while, and she's actually amazing at explaining the rules

Sometimes you also invite some other of your classmates to play together (mostly Damon because no one else wants to hang out with him)

Her favorite game is monopoly cause she knows all the strategies and doesn't mind how long it gets (it's more time she gets to spend with you) and her least favorite is uno simply because it brings out her more competitive and angry side like it does in everyone

"W-wait no that's illegal! You can't put a plus 2 on a plus 4....I'm gonna look it up!"

Cassidy amber

This one's pretty obvious but video games date

She has basically almost every video game in existence so of course she would share them with her lovers

This girl has a terrible sleeping schedule, so sometimes she'll just call you in the middle of the night cause she has this new really cool game she wants you to try

She likes playing co-op games most of the time because when she plays games against you, she absolutely destroys you. She lets you win sometimes because she loves you, though

Sometimes you also play together on stream and Cassidy's chat loves you

"Come on, babe, don't be upset that you lost. I'm the ultimate pro gamer after all, it was pretty obvious I would have won. Wanna do another round? I promise I'll go easy on you this time"

Eloise taulner

After watching her train, you two go take a walk in a park

The whole ambiance is really relaxing, and that's what Eloise likes the most in dates, especially after a hard day of fencing

You two sit at a bench, and sometimes she talks about what's on her mind, and other times, she just silently lays her head on your shoulder and relaxes

She likes to pet the animals she sees there

You often pick flowers for her along the way so that at the end you can give them to her, she always blushes but her heart just melts at how cute the gesture is

"O-oh are those......for me? T-thanks they look really pretty.......I love you.....t-them I-i meant I love them!"

Wenona

Shopping dates all the way

It's more like she buys anything you even look at while you just wander around the store

She already is basically your sugar mommy, and in her words, spending her money on you is the best thing she could use it for

Even with how much she reassures you that it's fine you still feel kinda guilty about using her money sometimes so you buy stuff for her too, which she appreciates

If anyone has anything to say about that or is just rude to you in general her attitude and a few comments about being able to buy the entire shop quickly shuts them up

"What's that y/n? Do you want that? Oh no don't worry, that's just pocket change to me"

Grace madison

She can't be bothered to plan a date so you often just follow her around for what she does for fun, which is mostly playing golf and working out

Working out with grace is kinda awkward cause she won't pay attention to you at all while exercising, and any conversation you try to strike up with her is mostly ignored

She does appreciate it when you help her though, like bringing her a water bottle or a towel later. If she's in a good mood she might even kiss you and then immensely go back to her aggressive self

She'll yell at you a lot if she catches you, staring a bit too much at her while she works out.....But she's not stopping you don't tell anyone that, but she actually kinda likes when you watch her. It's nice to know you think she's attractive

Which is the reason why she occasionally sends you gym pics when you don't come with her. If you dare mention it to her, she'll just call you a dumbass while blushing

"Oi, what are you looking at? Tch damn soybean, just go and get me my water or something instead of ogling me, idiot"

Diana venicia

Diana is down for basically any date you want to go together, she just really loves being with you no matter what you're doing

But if you ask her to pick a date, she usually resorts to very simple and cozy home dates

You stay and cuddle on the couch while watching some movie that fits the season. she usually likes corny romance movies cause she actually believes in true love, she has you after all

When the movie ends you talk about whatever you want, mostly about classes or your classmates or how much you love each other. Diana could rant for hours about how amazing you are

If you're OK with that she'd love to do your make-up, or just do her own make-up while you watch, she asks you what kinds look good on her (you think she looks beautiful with anything)

"So baby, what do you think of this? It's a new color I didn't try before. Awww, thanks so much. You look even better than me, hehe I love you so much"

Ingrid grimwall

Like Diana Ingrid doesn't really mind what dates you go on, she just likes being with you

She'd probably be into more thrilling dates like going to amusement parks or walks in the woods

If you're scared to go on the roller coaster she'll hold you the whole way through and that makes everything better

Even if it's not really a date she also likes to bring you to watch her work, especially if she's crafting something for you, she wants you to see how it's made with all her love

"So how do ya like it sugar? Is it good? I tried my best I really hope you like it, if ya want I can make another one for me so we can match"

[auspicioustidings]

Any version of Soap in any position of power would be soooo disgusting, calling IT Security reader at all times of the day and telling her that the speaker on his computer doesn’t work, while he’s clearly streaming some porno in the background 😭😭😭

You get it Lumi, he's a sick freak :) You also sent this while I happen to be working through 1k requests so bonus short for you <3

Back Chat

Words: 1k

CWs: non-con groping, just all around gross awful Soap

Sergeant John MacTavish was the reason you had poured over your contract for any get out clause that didn't cost you a fortune. You came up with nothing. The military had paid for a high end training course for you on the provision that if you left the role within 2 years then you had to pay every penny back.

Plus this job paid well and the benefits were great. You didn't even mind having gruff military personnel seeing fit to give you a bollocking over the phone because you would be following procedure whether they liked it or not and they could file a damn ticket if they wanted their issue looked at. Generally they were an OK bunch at heart, but rough around the edges and used to recruits eager to please them. When they realised your lack of any rank also excused you from being ordered around by anyone but your actual boss they usually mellowed out.

Of course you had made the mistake of chewing out one such gruff man after he called in a temper demanding that his laptop be fixed as a priority. Not even his work laptop, no he wanted his personal laptop fixed.

“Look MacTavish was it?”

“Sergeant MacTavish tae you.”

“No it isn't. I am not one of your soldiers. I work in IT for the military, your laptop is not military property so I'm not touching it. Use your big boy Sergeant wage and buy a new one.”

“Listen here ye wee bitch-”

You hung up on him and got on with your day right up until he physically showed up at your office on base. You handled IT for multiple bases, you had not considered that the person you had chewed out would actually work on this one. Oops.

He was a big motherfucker as well. Handsome. Crazy scary dog energy. Definitely not your usual soldier with his lack of uniform (unless jeans and a t-shirt that was so tight he was liable to tear out of it was uniform these days) and out of regulation haircut. You scrambled to try and stand but he was already looming over you in your chair, leaving you no space to do so as he settled his hands on the armrests and leaned over you to get into your face.

“I'll need tae settle for you then hen. Better make it good.”

“Excuse me?”

“The lassie on my laptop begs tae get it up the arse. Is a good girl for a thick cock pounding her tight cunt. Even when she's fucked oot her nut and ruined she still gags around a man down her throat and swallows like a proper bitch.”

You were flooded with fear and arousal. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that and you weren't entirely sure he was joking. He wouldn't actually do anything to you right? He was just being a dick because he wanted his laptop fixed. Just trying to intimidate you.

“And I bet she gets paid a lot more than me MacTavish, back off.”

Oh no. There was a feral gleam in his eye and a rabid grin that showed those sharp incisors. He clearly relished your response.

“Then I'll need to buy ye with, what was it? Right. My big boy Sergeant wage.”

He leaned in close and took a deep breath. Christ he was sniffing your currently greasy and messy hair. You hadn't showered in like 2 days, you were fucking IT, it wasn't like people usually came to physically see you in your little den.

“...I'll fix your fucking laptop oh my God just bring it by.”

“Atta girl” he all but panted into your ear before tugging at the lobe with his teeth and then fully tounging at your ear hole.

The sensation was truly the most awful thing you had ever felt. Your skin crawled and your body shivered uncomfortably as you tried to push him away from you. He chuckled and you choked on your own saliva as he firmly smacked your pussy before pulling away.

“I'll bring it right doon.”

You were left completely gobsmacked in your little office, your body hopped up on adrenaline and your cunt throbbing from the spank it had gotten and from the sick part of your mind that found the whole thing depraved and disgusting but sort of titillating.

When he brought the laptop back he hovered behind you while you worked on it, making you sweat. It was an easy enough fix and you sighed in relief and carefully avoided eye contact when you told him it was fixed.

“Ye’ll check it over, cannae be sending me away with a half done job.”

“You can see that it's working.”

He leant over, arms surrounding you so he could scroll over to open a video file. It was of a woman being railed hard from behind, drooling into the pillow and babbling for more. The wet squelch was disgusting, the man spitting down on her and smacking her already red ass.

“Speakers are fucked.”

You squirmed in your seat.

“I can hear it just fine.”

“Aye? What are ye hearing then?”

You remained silent, eyes fixed on the wall instead of on the screen. At least you were silent until he drew a yelp from you by groping one of your tits.

“Told ye, if ye cannae prove that it's fixed I'll need to settle for you. Bit shorter, softer and dirtier than my lassie mind, so got tae give it yer full effort.”

“I-It's working!”

“Prove it, what ye hearing?”

He made you replicate the whole script from each broken moan to the begging to the degrading. He was only satisfied when the whole video had run its course, by which time he had a hand on either tit, rough with how he groped and tugged.

“See now? Wisnae so hard to follow a Sergeant's orders was it?”

“No” you mumbled, crying out when he gripped your nipples through your shirt and twisted. “No Sergeant!”

He let go then, closing the lid of the laptop and standing with it to leave.

“Got an LT having trouble with his phone, he's naw as friendly as me though so best limit the back chat soldier.”

[petitemistletoe]

Grudges

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader, Potter!Reader

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 6.2K+

A/N: Alright listen I am a Lily Evans stan through and through but she does not come across the greatest in this fic

“Stop biting your nails,” Regulus nudged you lightly. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I just hope the first term went well for Celeste. I’ve missed her so much.” You rested your head on Regulus’s shoulder. 

“Celeste sent us about a thousand owls with updates. She’s fine! Plus she’s had Milo with her.” Regulus made a good point. Your daughter, Celeste, had started her first year at Hogwarts at the same time as her cousin Milo.

“Where are Sirius and Remus anyway?” You asked, glancing at your watch, “The train is going to be in any minute now.”

As if on cue, you saw Sirius and Remus running through King’s Cross. Remus was carrying an empty carseat and Sirius was balancing a baby in his arms. They made their way over to your spot on the platform and were breathing heavily. 

“Someone,” Sirius panted, “take the baby so I can have a moment to collapse.”

“Give me my delicious little nephew,” you grinned, taking the baby from Sirius and giving his chubby cheek a little kiss, “how are you Teddy?”

Teddy gurgled in response and wrapped a chubby hand around a strand of your hair. 

“Why exactly are you two so late?” Regulus quirked an eyebrow at his brother. 

“You know how it is, baby stuff.” Remus explained, setting the carseat on the ground and taking Teddy back from you.

“Sirius take too long looking at himself in the mirror?” Regulus chuckled. 

“You laugh but it’s under the shroud of wicked jealousy,” Sirius deadpanned. 

“Can you believe that our kids are first years! It feels like we graduated just yesterday,” you reminisced, threading your arm through Sirius’ and resting your head on his shoulder. 

“They’ll be here any minute now!” Sirius grinned, looking at the wave of students getting off the train. 

“Sirius! It’s your turn, Teddy needs to be changed.” Remus was now holding Teddy at arms length, his nose wrinkled. 

“Oh no,” Sirius peaked at Teddy’s diaper, “Moony this is a two man job. You guys mind waiting for Milo while we fix this?”

“Go for it,” you waved the boys off. You and Regulus were making idle chit chat until a body slammed into you. You looked down and saw the nicely styled brown and black curls and knew it could only have been your nephew.

“Hi Milo,” you said, pressing a kiss to his head. 

“Hey Auntie! Have you seen my dads?” He asked, pulling away and hugging Regulus. 

“They’re in the bathroom changing Teddy. Have you seen my daughter?” You responded. 

“She’s coming. Her and Harry were saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione at the front of the platform.” Milo shrugged. Your blood ran cold. 

“Harry?” You asked. Before Milo could respond you saw Celeste skipping towards you.

“Mum! Dad!” Celeste gave you and Regulus a giant hug. 

“Celeste! I want to hear all about your term,” you said with a giant grin. 

“Sure Mum! I want you to meet one of the greatest friends I made. He’s actually one of Milo’s childhood friends.” Celeste stepped back and revealed Harry standing behind her. Even if you hadn’t recognized the name you would’ve know that Harry was James’s son. Harry was the spitting image of James, save for his eyes. His eyes were the same color as Lily’s. 

“Hi! I’m Harry Potter, it’s nice to meet you Mrs. Black, Mr. Black.” Harry extended his hand to you and Regulus. Regulus had the same gobsmacked expression that you did and he swallowed harshly before saying, 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I understand that you and Celeste have become fast friends.” 

“Yes! I’ve known Milo my entire life so he introduced Celeste and I. Milo’s fathers are actually my father’s two closest friends. You might know him, James Potter?” Harry asked. 

“Uh, yes. We were in school at the same time as your father.” Regulus said, diplomatically. 

“Really?” Harry asked. Before you could continue any further Sirius and Remus returned. 

“There’s my godson!” Sirius laughed, wrapping Harry in a tight hug. 

“He hugs Harry before he hugs his own son.” Milo rolled his eyes as he hugged Remus and gave his baby brother a kiss on the forehead. 

“There’s my boy.” Sirius lifted Milo of the ground in a grandiose show of affection. 

“Where are your parents, Harry?” Remus asked. 

“Around here somewhere I’m sure.” Harry scanned through the throng of people. He disappeared off and you felt like you could breathe again. 

“Alright, love, do you have all your things?” You asked Celeste, running a hand over your daughter’s head, “Regulus grab her trunk.”

“Did you make the Christmas fudge mum?” Celeste asked. 

“Three trays of it.” You grinned, pinching Celeste’s cheek. 

“Oh Auntie your fudge is the greatest! Dad can we go over to Celeste’s and have some?” Milo asked Remus. 

“Why not? You know I have a soft spot for chocolate.” Remus laughed as he tried to juggle both the car seat and Milo’s trunk. 

“Give me the baby and give the car seat to Sirius.” You said. Remus went to hand you Teddy but tutted, “Other side, Remus. My shoulder.” You swapped sides and then took Teddy from Remus’ arms and balanced him on your hip. 

You were making your way out of the train station when Harry was running back towards you all, a giant smile on his face.

“Alright Harry?” Celeste asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I wanted to introduce our parents. Mr. And Mrs. Black these are my parents James and Lily Potter.” Harry stepped back to reveal his parents. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. 

“James.” You said, cooly. 

“It’s been a while.” James’s tone was as icy as yours. 

“Well we should get going,” Lily said diplomatically. 

“Yes! Yes. Good to see you. Have a happy Christmas!” Regulus pushed Celeste away before the conversation could progress any further. 

Luckily for you all, Celeste forgot all about encounter by the time she got home, had a tin of fudge, and played with her little brother Atlas who had been in private lessons when you all were at the train station. Atlas and Celeste were sleeping peacefully, now, and you were thinking about James as you got in bed next to Regulus. 

“Love?” Regulus shook you from your thoughts. 

“Yes darling?” 

“I was saying that Narcissa called and wants to have tea tomorrow and get all the children together.” Regulus said. 

“Oh, sure Reg.” You nodded.

“Thinking about James?” 

“You know me so well,” you laughed softly, “it just caught me off-guard…seeing him again.” 

“I know. Are you alright?”

“It’s weird, right? Harry and Celeste being friends.” You asked, rubbing your shoulder. 

“Yeah, a good weird though. I think we should consider the possibility of telling them that they are related. They deserve to know and it’ll only be worse if they find it out on their own.” Regulus ran his thumb over your knuckles. 

“I know you’re right.” You went to bed that night with your thoughts spinning impossibly fast in your brain. 

✰

“Oh my God! How can a child so small poop so much?” Remus said in disgust. His entire chest was coated in what had previously been Teddy’s breakfast. Sirius had been walking over to check on Remus, but immediately turned and crept back down the hallway as quietly as he could. “Nice try, Pads! Get back here right now.” 

“How did you know I was in the hall?” Sirius asked with a groan, taking over the diaper change while Remus removed his shirt and scourgified it. 

“Werewolf hearing, obviously.” Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Dads! When are we going to Celeste’s?” Milo asked, peeking his head into the room. 

“We’re going to meet Celeste and Atlas at Aunt Narcissa’s house.” Remus responded. 

“Oh fuck do we have to go to Narcissa’s? It’s so creepy there.” Sirius complained. 

“Really? You aren’t even going to pretend to act like a parent in front of our kid?” Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Aunt Narcissa isn’t so bad,” Milo shrugged, “Draco’s kind of annoying though.”

“Of course he is. He’s the spawn of a Black and a Malfoy.” Sirius rolled his eyes at the thought. 

“Sirius!” Remus was unfortunately not surprised at his husband’s antics. 

“I have a different question.” Milo shook his head, “so you know how Celeste and Atlas are mine and Teddy’s cousins because Dad and Uncle Regulus are brothers?”

“Yeah?” Sirius and Remus weren’t exactly sure where things were going.  

“And you know how you two were best friends with Uncle James and Aunt Lily in school?”

“Yeah…” Now Sirius and Remus had an idea where things were going and they didn’t exactly love it. 

“Why was I never allowed to have Harry and Celeste over at the same time? And why were things so awkward between everyone at the train station when Celeste’s and Harry’s parents met?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Remus said quickly. 

“Yep, Milo, you’re crazy.” Sirius nodded.

“Wait a minute,” Milo’s brain was moving quickly now, “isn’t Auntie’s maiden name Potter? But she doesn’t have a brother…is Uncle James her cousin? Are they fighting? Have they been fighting since before any of us were born? But Auntie always talks about how important family is…did Uncle James do something to break their bond? They must’ve been close since they would have been just a year apart at Hogwarts. And you two are still very close with her and Uncle Reg…in fact Dad I remember you said that Auntie was the person that reunited you with Uncle Reg. So it had to be something really specific between Auntie and Uncle James. Aunt Lily’s face was almost as red as her hair and Uncle Regulus was glaring at Uncle James when we were at the train station so I bet it was something about Auntie marrying Uncle Regulus and Uncle James marrying Aunt Lily. But Uncle James and Aunt Lily got married first so it was probably a fight between Auntie and Uncle James about Aunt Lily!” Milo looked very pleased with himself.

“You’re way off, Milo, it wasn’t like that at all.” Remus said weakly.

“How did you do that?” Sirius was looking at his son now like he was dripping in radioactive waste. 

“I knew it!” 

“Okay, Milo, listen you can’t tell Celeste or Harry. This is not our information to share.” Remus was very serious. 

“Of course, Dad. The secret is safe with me!” Milo beamed. 

✰

“Oh my God Ron! How has it taken you this long to cast a communication spell? Fred and George showed it to us like four times before we left for holiday!” Celeste whispered. She was underneath her covers as it was past one in the morning but Milo had sent everyone an owl saying he had an urgent message and needed to talk face to face. 

“It was hard, Cel!” Ron tried to defend himself but Harry was laughing too hard to be heard for anyone else on the call to hear him. 

“Okay, okay. Milo what’s your news?” Hermione asked, shaking her head.

“I just discovered something big! Something about Celeste and Harry.” Milo said excitedly.

“Does it have something to do with how weird our parents were at the train station?” Harry asked. 

“Yes, indeed. Celeste’s mum and Harry’s dad are cousins!” Milo paused to allow the revelation to skin in. 

“No way! Why wouldn’t they tell us?” Celeste gasped. 

“Apparently they had a really bad falling out and I think it’s because Celeste’s mum and Harry’s mum hate each other!”

“Why would they hate each other?” Hermione asked. 

“No idea. But you two are going to have to find out.” Milo grinned. 

✰

“So mum,” Celeste asked after you all returned from the Malfoys, “I have a question for you.”

“Sure, love. Did you want any more fudge?” You asked, taking out a tray and cutting off a few pieces. 

“Thanks mum!” Celeste took the plate from you.

“Hey Atlas! Do you want any fudge?”

“Yes yes yes!” Your eight year old came running into the kitchen. Atlas looked just like Regulus, dark curls and bright green eyes. Celeste looked more like a potter…more like James, in fact: tanned skin, warm brown eyes, easy smile. Celeste and Harry had looked like twins at the train station. It filled you with an uncomfortable heartache.

“Giving the kids more sugar?” Regulus quipped, helping push Atlas’s chair closer to the table. 

“It’s Christmas.” You smiled, “there’s a fresh batch of egg nog in the fridge from this morning if you’d like to join me in a glass.”

“Read my mind, Mrs. Black.” Regulus poured you and him two glasses and you sat at the able with your kids. 

“So Celeste, you said you had a question for me?” You asked, leaning back so you were resting against Regulus’s shoulder. 

“Are you and Harry’s dad cousins?” Celeste asked. Your back went rigid as Regulus sputtered and choked on his eggnog.

“Why…where did you hear that?” You asked. 

“Milo.”

“I’m going to kill Sirius.” Regulus shook his head.

“The truth is, yes, James and I are cousins.” 

“Did you have a falling out because you hate Harry’s mum?” 

“Oh my god,” Regulus rubbed his temples.

“Who’s Harry?” Atlas asked.

“I do not hate Harry’s mum.” You sighed, “James and I are just not as close as we used to be.”

“You know what,” Regulus stood, “we’re going to Sirius and Remus’s. We can let them explain everything since they felt so strongly about sharing it in the first place.”

“Good idea.” You hoisted Atlas onto your hip, even though he was far too big for it now and apparated as Regulus grabbed firmly onto Celeste’s wrist to apparate them both. You were standing in Sirius and Remus’s living room and you set Atlas down as Sirius entered the room with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn. 

“Oh fuck,” Sirius tried to turn on his heel but you grabbed him by the back of the shirt. 

“You’ve got a big mouth, Black.” You shoved Sirius down on the couch. 

“Moony! Milo! Can you come in here please?” Sirius called as Regulus and Celeste apparated into the room. 

“What’s up, Pads?” Remus entered the room, Milo right behind him.

“Hey Auntie,” Milo said shyly, sitting between his fathers on the couch. 

“Milo, when we speak to you do you hear words or is it just the Charlie Brown whomp sound?” Remus said with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Milo shrugged. 

“We’ll deal with you later. Take your cousins up to your room while your aunt tears me a new asshole.” Sirius sent Milo, Atlas, and Celeste out and then cast a silencing spell over the living room for good measure. 

“What the hell is wrong with you!” You said, slapping Sirius on the chest and arms after each word for emphasis. 

“Milo guessed it! It was really only a manner of time considering your behavior at Kings Cross.” Remus said with a sigh.

“You’re right.” You flopped on the couch next to Remus and put your head in your hands. Regulus sat down next to you and rubbed your back. 

“Do you think it might be time for you and James to reconcile? It’s been ten years since you two last spoke.” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been carrying this resentment so long I might feel lonely without it.” You said with a weak chuckle. There was a loud crack in the air and James, Lily, and Harry were standing in the living room. 

“Sirius!” James roared, “I’m going to kill you!”

“Milo has another parent! Why do target me?” Sirius threw his hands in the air. 

“Kids are upstairs, Harry. Why don’t you join them while we talk?” Remus sent Harry upstairs. 

“I think we should have a conversation about how we’d like to proceed. Celeste and Harry are closer than ever and I don’t think any of us have been very fair.” Regulus said with a deep sigh. 

✰

“James!” You said in a sing-song voice as you set your book down and settled down on the blanket that James had spread in front of the lake. James, Sirius, and Remus had been taking advantage of the nice day and were studying outside by the Black Lake. 

“What is it?” James was pretending to be exasperated but he couldn’t hide his smile. He always had a soft spot for his baby cousin. 

“I need your potions notes. We’re brewing liquid luck and Slughorn assigned me a terrible partner.” You said with a sigh. 

“Who’d he assign you?” Sirius asked. 

“Your little brother,” you said with an eyeroll.

“Come on,” Remus exhaled lazily, handing you a joint that he’d lit a few moments before, “as far as Slytherins go, Regulus is pretty good at potions.”

“Yeah, yeah he’s a potions wiz. I don’t need him mansplaining potions to me so I need to read up on liquid luck and show his ass up.” You said before taking a long drag of the joint, “This is really good, Remus.”

“Thanks, I did get an O in herbology.” Remus laughed. 

“Here,” James was forever organized and was able to locate his notes from last year rather quickly, “use them wisely.” 

“Hey Prongs did you tell the young Miss Potter your news?” Sirius asked, taking the joint from you.

“No! What’s your news, Jamie?” You poked James in the ribs playfully. 

“Now that Lily and I have been dating for a few months now, I’d like for you two to officially meet.” James said with a grin. Your stomach turned unpleasantly. You had only ever seen Lily in passing, considering you were in Slytherin and a year younger than the Marauders. You hadn’t liked how James had pined after Lily considering she did not make it a secret how she despised him. Sure, James was a bit immature sometimes but he had the biggest heart of anyone you knew. You swallowed all that down and grinned, 

“Can’t wait. When are we going to meet?”

“Why don’t you come to the Gryffindor common room tomorrow night?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You grinned. You had to leave the warm sun and your friends an hour later to meet with Regulus to start the potions work. You didn’t care for Regulus. Being a close friend of Sirius meant that Regulus was naturally more haughty towards you and you thought he could be unnecessarily cruel whenever he was around Barty Crouch Jr. To you had been less than pleased when Slughorn had paired you together would be an understatement. 

You found him sitting at a table in the corner of the library, bent over a book. 

“Hello Regulus,” you said, sitting down next to him. 

“Hi. I thought we could start with raiding the greenhouses to find some horseradish. The first step of brewing Felix Felicis is to mix ashwinder eggs and horseradish.” Regulus said. 

“I think it’d be better actually to substitute wasabi for horseradish. Apparently it makes the potion more potent.” You said, setting James’ notes out in front of you.

“These notes are brilliant,” Regulus snatched up the page and studied it. 

“Thanks, they’re my cousin’s.” You shrugged. You worked for a while with Regulus before walking together back to the Slytherin dorms. 

“You know…it’s funny.” Regulus said with a small shake of his curls. 

“What is?”

“You and I both have close family in Gryffindor. The Gryffindor/Slytherin mix isn’t super common.” Regulus said. 

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“We’re not so different are we?” 

“I’m nothing like you, Regulus. I’m not cruel.” You crossed your arms. You were at your door now and weren’t entirely sure why Regulus had walked you all the way up to the girls dorms. 

“The Felix Felicis takes six months to brew. I bet you’ll be under me by then.” Regulus said with a confident laugh.

“In your dreams, Black.” You said with an eyeroll. You entered your room and huffed but had to admit it was a bit hard to hide your smile. 

✰

You were nervous as you ascended the steps up to the Gryffindor common room. You didn’t know what it was exactly but you weren’t looking forward to meeting Lily. You shook the thoughts from your brain as Sirius let you into the common room. 

“Remus!” You said with a grin, jumping into Remus’s lap and accepting the joint from him. Lily was perched on James’ lap and she was grinding down on him as they made out like their lives depended on it. 

“Break it up, love birds, you have company.” Sirius said, slapping James upside the head on his way back to the couches. 

“Sorry,” James said, sheepishly, setting Lily down next to him. James introduced you two. 

“Lily, it’s great to finally meet you. The guys talk about you all the time.” You said with a smile.

“Ditto! James always says you’re one of the most important people in his life.” Lily grinned. 

“Yeah. James and I are both only children so we really felt more like siblings than cousins.”

“Are you the first Potter in Slytherin?” Lily asked. It was an innocent enough question, Lily could not have known that it had been a sore subject in your family. You were the first Potter in Slytherin. No Potter had been in a house that was not in Gryffindor for over one thousand years. It had been a shock to your family. 

“Uh, yes I am.” You tried to hide your discomfort over the question. 

“Oh. Good for you.”

“And you’re a muggle born, right?”

“Yes.” Lily’s eyes flashed dangerously. 

“Good for you.” You responded. The rest of the night passed rather quickly and then James walked you back to the Slytherin dorms. 

“So?” He asked excitedly.

“So what?” 

“So what did you think of Lily? She’s great, isn’t she?” James was beaming.

“She’s something.” You pursed your lips. 

“What do you mean?”

“I hate her.” You said with a head shake. James was shocked. He tried to get more out of you, but you told him you were tired and went to bed. James felt like his brain was in shambles as he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. Only Lily was left, reading a book by the fire. 

“Hey love,” James sat down next to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Hi James. Have a good walk?” She asked. 

“Yeah, yeah. You liked my cousin, right?”

“Your cousin?” Lily said nervously, “Yeah! She’s quite spirited.” 

“Oh my god you hate her, don’t you?” James’s heart felt like it had dropped into his ass.

“I do!” Lily groaned, “But honestly I barely know her. We’ll get together more and more and hopefully we’ll become good friends. It’s clear to me that we both care about you a lot and want the best for you.” Lily said. James could only shrug. 

✰

As Lily and James became closer and closer, you started spending less and less time in the Gryffindor common room. You also became closer to Regulus as you continued working on your potions project together. You were finally able to meet Regulus for your final potion check before you submit it as a final to Slughorn. As you made your way down you ran into James. 

“Hey! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. I miss you.” James said, slinging an arm over your shoulders. 

“I know! It’s just been so busy with classes and finals but I’m about to submit my potions final so that’ll be a huge weight off my shoulders.” You said with a grin. 

“We’re going to the Three Broomsticks tonight, why don’t you meet us there? Celebrate the end of potions for the year” James said, “We’ll get properly pissed.”

“That sounds great. Who all is going?” You asked. 

“The whole gang! Remus, Sirius, Mary, Marlene, Lily.”

“Lily?” You faltered. 

“I know you aren’t her biggest fan but I promise it’ll be fun.” James begged.

“Alright! I’ll see you later then. Have a butterbeer waiting for me.” You called as James reascended the steps. He sent you thumbs up before disappearing around the corner. You walked into the potions classroom and saw Slughorn was peering over your cauldron as Regulus explained away. 

“Ah Ms. Potter, nice of you to join us. I was just about to review your potion. I believe you and Mr. Black were assigned Felix Felicis.”

“Yes sir, we were.” You nodded. 

“As I was saying,” Regulus said with a quick nod in your direction, “we decided to add wasabi instead of horseradish to the potion in order to increase its potency. 

“Very smart.” Slughorn nodded. He mulled over the potion for a full two minutes before nodding. “Outstanding work you two. I knew great things would come from the two of you. Your reward is that you are able to keep the potion. I’m sure you both understand, however, that use of the potion during a Quidditch match is strictly illegal.” 

“We understand, professor.” Regulus nodded. Professor Slughorn stalked out of the room. You and Regulus hugged tightly. 

“We did it! Do you want the potion? I don’t have any use for it.” You said with a shrug.

“Yeah.” Regulus nodded. He uncorked the vial and swallowed it down.

“What are you doing?” You raised your eyebrow and looked at him.

“I needed it for what I’m about to do.” Regulus said. Before you could ask him what he was talking about, Regulus grabbed you by the waist and kissed you hard. You were surprised at first but then you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

“Oh wow.” You said when you broke apart. 

“Will you go out with me?” Regulus asked, brushing his curls out of his face. 

“Yeah. Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks with me?” You asked. 

“Yeah I do.” Regulus grinned. 

The two of you walked hand in hand to Hogsmeade. It seemed that the Gryffindors had started without you and the group was very, very drunk. Lily was perched in James’s lap again and you tried not to roll your eyes.

“What are you two doing here?” Sirius asked, slurring his words a bit, “I mean…what are you two doing here together?”

“We’re friends, Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. You and Regulus were able to catch up to the rest of the crowd quickly. 

“More than that.” Regulus laughed and slung his arm over your shoulders. 

“Really?” James narrowed his eyes. 

“Why not?” You snuggled yourself deeper into Regulus’s arms. 

“He’s a Slytherin. He’s dangerous.” James snapped at you.

“I’m a Slytherin.” You bit the inside of your cheek harshly. 

“So you finally made your way over to dark wizards? Guess you really are a Slytherin.” Lily giggled. 

“And you’ve proven that you can live up to the stereotype of annoying muggleborns.” You shot back. 

“Stop it.” James frowned but it was too late. The storm between you and Lily had been brewing for six months and there was no stopping it now.

“You know what James, I can’t do this anymore. It’s her or me.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Oh come on! Like James is going to pick some girl he’s been dating for less than a year over his cousin.” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t do this. You both are being unfair.” James said. 

“James didn’t tell you? After we graduate, we’re moving in together.” Lily spat at you.

“Make your choice James.” You said coldly. 

“No.” James shook his head.

“Fine,” you said, standing and grabbing Regulus’s hand, “I’ll make it for you. Goodbye.” And you stormed off. 

✰

There was quite a bit of electricity in the air during the Quidditch final. It was already charged, being a competition between Gryffindor and Slytherin. You and Regulus were both playing as chaser and seeker respectively. This was an important match for you, you were being scouted by four different professional Quidditch teams and the representatives were all in the stands. You still had a year of Hogwarts left after this one but the teams were ready to make an offer that would work around your school schedule. 

You couldn’t think about that right now, though. You wanted to stomp Gryffindor into the dirt. Your blood was pulsating in your ears as Madame Hooch blew the whistle to signify the start of the match.

The match was vicious, with you and James diving at each other and playing dirtier than you ever had to before. You were flying next to James and you shoulder checked him rougher than you should’ve. James nearly fell off his broom but he was able to swing all the way around and restabilize. 

“That was a cheap shot!” James spat at you.

“Guess I’m just a lousy Slytherin.” You spat back. “At least I’m not wrapped around the finger of a witch with a stick up her ass.”

That was too far, you knew it, but you were too upset to care. James yanked at the back of your broom just as a bludger rammed itself into your chest. You fell hard and Madame Hooch had been too enraptured in a squabble between the Sirius and the Slytherin beaters to notice what was happening until it was too late. You hit the ground hard and heard a sickening crunch sound as your arm was wrenched awkwardly behind your back. You groaned as Madame Hooch started running towards you and blowing her whistle wildly. Before she reached you, though, your broom did and it embedded itself in your shoulder. You were screaming so loud your throat was raw. You tried to grab at your broom with your other hand but realized that the broom had impaled the fleshy part of your shoulder and was anchoring you to the ground. 

“Oh my God,” Madame Hooch gasped as she made her way towards you. Madame Pomfrey was hot on her heels and she knelt down next to you. Regulus made his way down to you next. He dropped to his knees next to you and grabbed at your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Then Sirius landed. He took one look at you and promptly vomited into the grass. James was there next, his face paler than it had ever been. 

“Alright love, I’m going to move you over to the hospital wing where I’ll give you a sedative and assess the damage.” Madame Pomfrey said. You wished that Madame Pomfrey had given you the sedative before she moved you. You had never and would never again experience such pain. Not when you gave birth, not when you had been a victim of cruciatus  curse, not ever. Madame Pomfrey had to move you again to St. Mungos and a team of healers were put together to remove your broom from your shoulder and patch you up. 

When you were finally stable again, the doctor who had been presiding over your case made his way to your bedside. Your parents and Regulus had been by your side for the entire four day period. 

“It will take time for your shoulder to heal. It faced an unbelievable trauma and even after much physical therapy, rigorous potion taking, and rehabilitation your shoulder will never reach its full, working capacity.” 

“So I’ll never play Quidditch again.” You said bitterly.

“Oh darling let’s just be happy that you’re okay.” Your mother tried but you shook your head. 

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Potter, but no. Playing professionally will not be possible.” The doctor bowed his head. 

You refused James’s visits for the next two weeks until you were able to be discharged from the hospital. You were home, laying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. You wanted to rip down your Quidditch posters but you couldn’t extend your arm that far up yet. You were forced to just glare up at them. 

“Hey, can I come in?” James asked, knocking on your open door. You looked at him and turned back to stare at the ceiling. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I have never felt more terrible in my entire life. I thought you were going to die,” James had tears in his eyes, “and it would have been all my fault. All over something so stupid. But I’m glad that you’re alive. But I am so so sorry that I cost you your career. If I could go back and erase it, I would.” 

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You said softly and stared at the ceiling until James left the room. 

✰

You and James did not speak for four years. He got married and you got married and it was bizarre. All of a sudden you were no longer speaking to your best friend. Good things came out of the situation, though. You and Regulus got married and had a baby. Regulus and Sirius repaired their relationship and Sirius and Remus married and had a baby as well. You and Reg had Sirius and Remus over often, watching the newly one year olds play together. 

“I still can’t believe that you named her Celeste.” Sirius shook his head. 

“Why? You don’t like the name?” You asked with a soft laugh.

“I just can’t believe you stuck with the celestial theme.” Sirius rolled his eyes. Regulus laughed too.

“It wasn’t even my idea,” Regulus laughed, “my darling bride thought of it. She wanted Celeste for a girl and Atlas for a boy.”

“You really are a Slytherin.” Sirius laughed and gave you a kiss on the cheek before scooping Milo up.

“We should get home and give Milo a bath before bed. I don’t know why people think that having babies is hard. Milo’s a dream.” Sirius shrugged. He apparated out. Remus was about to follow when he turned to you.

“What is it Remus?” Regulus asked. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but James and Lily are in a rough place. James might try to reach back out to you.” Remus said. 

“I’m not interested in that.” You said, looking down at your lap. 

“I know. Just thought I would give you a heads up.” Remus said with a smile before apparating out.

“Celeste still has so much energy. Should we let her play for a little longer before bed?” Regulus asked, settling into the couch. 

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged. You and Regulus chatted idly for a bit longer before you heard a knock at the door. 

“Think that’s Sirius forgetting something?” Regulus asked. You stood up and headed for the door, 

“Doubt it. When has Sirius ever knocked?” You laughed. You opened the door and your jaw dropped in shock when you saw James at your doorstep, Harry on his hip.

“Hey.” James said softly.

“James. What are you doing here?” You asked. 

“Who is it?” Regulus called from the couch. 

“Uh, it’s James.” You responded. 

“I’m sorry,” Regulus walked up over to where you were, “I thought you said James but I must have mis-” Regulus went silent. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked. 

“I, uh, I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk about things.” James said, bouncing Harry on his hip a few times. 

“Why don’t you come in,” Regulus stepped back to let James in. He lead James into the sitting room where Celeste was sitting on the ground and playing with her toys. 

“Thanks, Regulus.” James said as he entered. 

“Why don’t you let Harry play with Celeste?” Regulus offered. James set Harry down next to Celeste. “I’ll go make some tea.” Regulus left you and James sitting on the couch in awkward silence. 

“Harry looks like you.” You said softly.

“Yeah, yeah he does. Celeste looks like you.”

“Seems like they were fast friends.” You said. Harry and Celeste were curled up, yawning and grabbing at each other’s feet. 

“That’s good. It’s good for cousins to be close.” James said. 

“I heard things between you and Lily are rough right now.” 

“It’s just a rough patch. But I’m sorry about the way things happened. I want Harry to have his cousin in his life. I want my cousin in my life.” James was nervous, you could tell. 

“I don’t know if it’s fair to set up Celeste for that kind of heartbreak. Wouldn’t want the kids to get close only to have Harry abandon Celeste for some girl and then nearly kill her.”

“That’s not fair,” Regulus said, setting down the tray with the tea.

“I don’t have to be fair. James cost me everything.” You said, your jaw set. 

“I want to start over. Please. I love you, I miss you.” James begged. 

“Then why did you choose Lily?” Emotion was cracking through your cold exterior. 

“I didn’t!” “You did! I’m your family! You never should’ve chosen her over me.” You said, rising from your seat. 

“You never should’ve made me choose!” James screamed back. 

“Maybe we should revisit this later when everyone has had a chance to calm down.” Regulus stood between you and James now.

“No. I think you’ve made it very clear. Sorry I tried.” James scooped up Harry and left, slamming the door shut behind him. 

✰

“No, we haven’t been fair.” You said, “But I’d like an apology.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry for everything I did to you.” James gushed, grabbing your hand. 

“Not from you,” you shook your head, “from Lily.”

[popponn]

sick day safe distance.

summary: you caught a cold and really doesn’t want him to also get sick. it’s that simple, actually.

notes: was tempted to add more, but yeah one day, maybe. this is me trying to pump myself up and trying to grasp sae more for an upcoming fic. also warm up for a bit. still i hope it will be an enjoyable read, as simple and unserious it is haha. warning: none, just mentions of colds symptoms here and there. fluff, clingy slash affectionate bfs, reader's gender unspecified.

character: nagi, sae, isagi.

nagi seishiro

this guy somehow turns even more similar to his favorite chat sticker. just a bit more fluffy, and bigger, and with grubby hands. put simply, nagi is pretty troublesome because he insists on still being close to you. he really doesn’t see a point in keeping his distance since he still lives under the same roof as you—which doesn’t mean you could go somewhere else though. he is not above actually hanging on your hip. don’t test him.

in a way, you will be lucky if he must go out for practice. but if he is not, then good luck. if before you sleep, he was sitting a few meters away from you, the moment you took a nap nagi would be laying his head somewhere near or on you while playing his game. pray for your debate skill, because you really need to convince him that ‘getting sick is even more troublesome than not cuddling with you for a while. yes even when that’s what he really wants.’ also a little tip, be strong and don’t look at his baby face too much. that’s a losing fight with a natural puppy face. and if you want to take a bet, use his hoodie as your sick attire. it will either satiate whatever it is in him or worsen it.

he is a bit childish and adamant when he is clingy. even when he is not in the clingiest mood, that wouldn’t necessarily mean his concern for you would be gone immediately. every hour or so, you will definitely see a nagi peeking at you, asking if you want anything because ‘if you got worse it would be even more troublesome’. and honestly just let him do anything he wants to take care of you—this guy will be okay in the kitchen and in anything even if it’s his first time. that’s the resident giant sloth doing something for you out of his own willingness. plus if worst comes to worst, hey, maybe adrenaline could be an instant cure.

itoshi sae

sae makes a face that indicates he is a little upset, hums, and then actually says he will stay somewhere else for a while. he reacts so gracefully and normally it’s kind of cold. but then again, this is sae and his personality. just because he seems unaffected and puts you somewhere pretty low on his priority list, it doesn’t mean that is how it truly is. and if you are trained to translate sae-speak through experiences and are already used to him, it’s kind of obvious, from his actions especially.

it’s obvious in the way he leaves you messages and voice notes. and in the way he insults you when you try to do something dumb or eat something that you shouldn’t. in the way he sends you food and reminds you to drink every hour he can—and if he has to practice, he will find someone to do that task through sheer deadpan alone. also in the way he keeps the call on until you sleep every night—saying that this is to make sure you won’t infect his part of bed, which is a lie. if you show him that you miss him by cuddling his side of bed this guy will short-circuit, in a very positive way.

also, since this is sae with his terrible case of ‘showing he actually cares’, most of the proof of him being genuinely upset from being away from you will come from others. in the form of complaints. all telling you to get better soon because he got extra grumpy and blunt in his wording as if he is on a vengeance quest. and even if his play got better somehow, help his teammates because they really are not here to deal with a boyfriend who has love deficiency or some bullshit. of course, you hardly believe them because in every video call, sae acts like it's nothing. still, go do loving gestures in your temporary long-distance relationship. some people will actually owe you for that. also don’t forget to at least give him an update if he somehow couldn’t contact you. just in case.

isagi yoichi

isagi takes it with a grimace and an understanding sigh that truthfully still sounds very exasperated, but accepting nonetheless. he will still whine a little though, in a very joking and light manner. this guy’s schedule is packed and he rarely has any time with you, so of course if any chance he should have gotten sabotaged by some random flu, it’s entirely within his right to get at least a little upset. so understandably, his priority as an egoist who really wants some loving would be to get you healthy again as soon as possible. also, maybe, that part of him that takes care of people so naturally kind of screeches when you cough roughly.

the sweetest part is probably how he will still find a way to take care of you no matter what his schedule is. what isagi wants, isagi will get somehow after all. it’s his break day? you are not leaving his sight and he will watch the old matches from your side—also he is wearing a face mask so don’t bother to shoo him away. if he has training? maybe you have to walk around a little bit by yourself still, but somehow everything from food to medicines is ready. his friends ask him to hang out? this one is a straight-out pass, his baby is sick.

this is the guy who will try to cook porridge for you while calling his mom in the process and sends a longing gaze when you keep a distance between the two of you. he won’t protest and will actually do his best. remember to walk around the neighborhood with him the moment you get better. also give him as many handholds, hugs, kisses, and praises as possible. actually, go do a headstart on the praise if possible. even if he scolds you to rest instead of giving him sugary words, the soft dotting look on his face can’t lie. just make sure to not suggest sleeping in the hotel or have him stay at someone’s though—trust this guy and his self-centeredness. when he really wants to stay with you and stay healthy for his career, he will. don’t doubt him or make enemies of the protagonist.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 7) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake take some time for yourselves before you tell Bradley the news.

Series Master List

Master List

About Fourteen Months Ago

Jake glanced around the reception hall. It was Rooster and Emma’s rehearsal dinner and he was more than a little bored. Everyone else had paired off with their plus ones or were trying to get one and Jake just decided to wander around the building to the outdoor bar for a change in scenery.

Walking over, Jake was about to order a drink when he spotted you sitting at the end of the bar, dressed in a dress that hugged your body well and a pair of heels. He had seen your picture before any of the wedding preparations started, and knew that he’d shoot his shot with you if given the chance. He saw that you had a boyfriend, but yet he hadn’t seen the guy around anywhere today.

So, he was going to take a chance.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing out here all by yourself?” Jake drawled, letting his Texas accent shine through.

“Trying to get away from my family, actually,” you mused, taking a sip of your drink. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but Bradley’s a bit of a groomzilla.”

“He’s been a diva ever since I met him.”

“You’re Hangman, right?” you asked, turning in your seat towards Jake. 

“The one and only,” Jake returned with a nod. “And you must be Rooster’s one and only sister. The maid of honor.”

“That’s me.” 

“Well, that makes me even more curious about why you’re out here alone,” Jake remarked, taking his seat. “You didn’t even get to bring a guest to pull you out of the bullshit?”

“Well, I did have a guest. And then I sort of broke up with him a few weeks ago,” you replied, causing Jake to nod slowly.

“That’ll do it.”

“Oh, it did,” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. Turning back to Jake, you offered him a playful smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why is it that my brother didn’t warn me to stay away from anyone else except for you?” you mused, leaning on the bar top. “What makes you so special?”

“I have a few guesses,” Jake responded, motioning to the bartender to grab a drink for himself. “Your brother and I have a history of not seeing eye to eye on a lot of things. And I have a nasty habit of flirting with beautiful women.”

“He was probably worried that you’d take advantage of me, since he thinks that I’m vulnerable and pathetic right now.”

“You’re not upset about your breakup?” Jake asked, turning to you. 

“It was one of those relationships that you look back on and wonder why you stayed for as long as you did,” you explained before taking a long sip of your drink. “And I think my family was more upset about it than I was.”

“Who cares what they think? It’s your life, your relationship, your decision.”

“I'll drink to that,” you returned with a smile. 

Jake got his beer and the two of you chatted as the dinner dragged on. Laughing at one of Jake’s jokes, you turned around when you heard your name. Penny was standing at the entrance to the hall and motioning for you to come inside. She glanced between the two of you with a look that you would call knowing motherly intuition before heading inside. 

“I should probably go,” you stated, standing up from the bar. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Anytime,” Jake replied, eyes still trained on you. 

“Do you have any plans for after the wedding tomorrow?” you asked, sliding your clutch under your arm. 

“Are you offering?” Jake asked, a smirk overcoming his features. 

“Only if you’re agreeing,” you returned, taking slow steps from him. 

“And if I am?”

“Then if you give me a ride home tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do to repay you for it.”

“I’ll be there,” he stated, nodding in return.

“I’ll be the one standing at the altar in the blue dress next to the bride. Just in case,” you joked, heading inside. Sending him one last smile, you added, “Bye, Jake.”

~~~~~

Present Day

Jake took the initiative and suggested that the two of you take a day trip together away from San Diego where the two of you could talk in peace. And the beach town where you may or may not have accidentally conceived your child together was his first suggestion. 

The two of you walked down to the beach, which was relatively quiet as it was still early in the day. You picked a spot a short walk from the waves where the breeze was present but not too strong and set down your bag. 

“You need help?” Jake asked as you unrolled your beach blanket. 

“I think that I can manage,” you assured him, using the breeze to fluff out the blanket. 

You set it down on the sand carefully before straightening up. Shimmying out of your beach cover, happy to sit in the warm California air in just your bathing suit, you caught Jake’s gaze on you. Tossing your dress onto your bag and slowly lowering yourself to sit on the blanket, you looked up at Jake.

“You know, you staring at me got us into this situation in the first place,” you commented, adjusting your top. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining before,” Jake quipped, sitting down beside you. “And I was staring at your bump, not . . .” You glanced down at your small bump before turning back to Jake. “You hide it everywhere else.”

“Not everyone knows about it everywhere else,” you pointed out softly. You glanced down at your bump again, tilting your head to the side. “Though I guess it is starting to grow, isn’t it?” 

“Has Mav said anything to you since the dinner?” Jake asked, turning to stare out at the waves.

“Not much besides checking in on me. I think that he’s just waiting for us to tell Bradley.” 

“And where are you with that?” Jake inquired, glancing over at you. 

“I know that I have to do it. Mav already invited us over for dinner next weekend, so I have a feeling that he’s getting antsy about it,” you replied softly. “But it’s terrifying to think about Bradley’s reaction.”

“Why? He’s just your brother.” 

You turned back to Jake with a mildly annoyed expression, but he didn’t seem to back down on his opinion. Resting your hands on the towel behind you, you stared out and away from Jake, settling your emotions before you responded. 

“I know that not everyone is close with their siblings. But Bradley and I are close. Because we had to be,” you explained, watching the waves crash rhymically in front of you, helping settle you more. “Look, maybe if my dad lived or my mom lived, we wouldn’t have been as close. But we had to rely on each other a lot growing up.”

“Like with what?” 

“It was usually just us. My grandparents helped out, but they got sick. My mom was there and she took on everything that she could, but she had to work full time. Mav was gone for a lot of the time. Bradley would start dinner for my mom and then help me with my homework pretty much every night.”

You paused, glancing down at your toes and curling them in the sand as a nervous habit.

“Hell, Brad even took me to the father-daughter dance one year. My friend’s dad drove us, but Brad was my guest. There were a lot of times where he was just forced to stand in for someone else for me. And I always feel guilty about it.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t have a choice. He was the oldest and Mom couldn’t physically be there for everything. And Mav was busy with his career.”

“Mav wasn’t around that often for you guys?” Jake asked after a moment, a little confused. “How are you guys so close then?”

“He wasn’t around a lot when we were little,” you explained, turning back to Jake. “I think that he didn’t want to spend too much time around us because he felt guilty about it. Like he was taking my dad’s place. But then my mom started to get sick and he took a lot of time off to help with us.” 

“How old were you when your mom . . .?” 

“I was ten, I think, when she got diagnosed. And then I was two months away from turning thirteen when she passed. Brad was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It happened a long time ago,” you replied softly, staring out at the waves. 

“If the baby’s a girl,” Jake ventured after a moment, causing you to turn back to him, “did you want to name her after your mom?” 

“I was thinking of her middle name actually. And it doesn’t have to be ‘Carole’ exactly, but something like it. I don’t want any kid to feel like they have to live up to someone else’s name,” you stated, and Jake could sense from your tone that you weren’t really talking about your baby. “I would want our daughter to have her own name. Or our son too, of course, if the baby’s a boy.” 

“If we had a boy, you’d want his middle name to be Nick then?” 

“No,” you stated, shaking your head slowly. “I, uh, we never talked about it, but I always just knew that Bradley would want to name his son after our dad. And hey, I can’t even remember the man, so I’ll just leave the name for Brad.” Adjusting your sunglasses, you turned to Jake again. “And I kind of assumed that if we had a boy, you would want his middle name to be ‘Jacob.’” 

“Why would you think that?” Jake asked, confused. 

“Most boys have their dad’s name as their middle name,” you pointed out calmly. “Is your middle name your dad’s name?”

“The kid doesn’t need my name,” Jake stated, dodging your second question.

"What about your surname?"

"I just assumed you wanted to name them 'Bradshaw'."

"I wanted to hyphen it actually,” you replied, brushing your hands on your thighs to rub the sand off. “I mean, we’re going to co-parent. So, they can have both of our names.”

Jake nodded slowly, murmuring that he heard you. Staring at the waves again, you knew that it was probably best to not push Jake on the subject of his family. But you literally knew nothing about his childhood except for the fact that he wouldn’t talk about it. And that he was from Texas. That was it.

And if Jake’s family was going to become your family through your baby, you felt like you needed to know more than that. Or at least an explanation for why you didn’t.

“Jake?”

“What?”

“Why do you avoid every question that I ask about your past?” you asked softly, turning back to Jake. “Or your family?”

“Because they’re irrelevant. They’re not going to be involved, I'll tell you that right now. I haven't spoken to them since I was . . . twenty-five," Jake replied, doing the math in his head. "And I'm not going to start again anytime soon."

"Who is 'them'? Your parents?" you asked quietly.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I'm currently pregnant with your baby and I don't even know if you have a sibling. I mean, that's the most basic information that you share with anyone." Turning to face Jake more, you folded your legs under you. "And I'm not trying to overstep but if we're going to be a team and co-parent, can I at least know something about your past before the Navy? Anything?"

"I'm an only child," Jake replied after a moment.

"Thank you," you returned softly.

"Don't mention it."

Turning back to the waves, you moved to give Jake some space. You clearly struck a nerve with him, though you felt like it was a topic that you had to discuss with him at some point. But it was going to be an incredibly tense drive home if you kept pushing him, so you decided to give him a moment.

"I'm going to go down to the waves for a bit," you stated, slowly getting to your feet.

Jake stopped his staring contest with the horizon and looked up as you walked away and headed down to the wet sand and waves. He watched you as you slowly walked into the water, getting your toes and ankles wet. You set your hands on your hips, which naturally seemed to curve your posture and stick your bump out even further so that when you turned to look down the beach, Jake could see the gentle curve.

Sighing, he held his head in his hand for a moment. He ran his hand through his hair and angrily tugged at the strands.

"Way to fucking go, Jake," he cursed himself, glancing up at the sky.

He always got defensive whenever anyone asked about his past. Coyote was on the receiving end of a lot of it until he finally wore him down. There was a lot of tequila involved, though. And he knew that reacting defensively to you, when you were clearly trying to help in your own way, was not going to be a winning strategy. Not if he wanted to maintain a good relationship with you.

Letting out a groan, Jake got up from the ground. Dusting off his shorts, he pulled his tank top off since he was starting to sweat and made his way down to where you were standing.

You leaned down, picking up a smooth rock from the ground and running your thumb along it. The sound of footsteps made you turn around. You couldn't help the surprised look on your face when you saw Jake approach, though you offered him a small smile as he moved to stop beside you. A wave rolled up and you glanced down at your toes.

"Did you think about what living situation you wanted?" Jake asked, turning towards you. "I'm open to moving into your apartment or you could move into mine. Or we could get a place together."

"We'll definitely need more than a one bedroom apartment at some point," you stated, picking your head up. "When is your lease up?"

"Seven months. I signed it after we got back from our last deployment," Jake replied, staring out at the water. "You?"

"Two months," you stated, causing Jake to turn to you urgently. "I know, it's pretty soon. My landlord is already sending me almost daily texts about renewing my lease."

"And . . . do you want to?"

"I don't think that I want to raise our baby there," you responded after a moment of thought. "So, no I don't think I will."

“Did you want to move in with me?” Jake offered, causing you to turn back to him.

"Do you want me to move in with you?" you asked him, turning the question around on him.

"I don't want to miss anything," Jake stated, causing you to nod. "I know that it's a one bedroom, so that might be a little awkward, but if sleeping on the couch or buying a bigger bed means that I don't miss anything, then I'll do it in a heartbeat."

"Okay," you agreed, trying to keep the emotion stable in your voice. "Then I'll move in with you when my lease is up."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," you assured him. "Moving in together isn't as big of a commitment as having a baby together."

"I suppose not," Jake agreed, smiling softly. He looked down the beach before turning back to you. "Do you think our baby was conceived on this beach?"

"Jake," you gasped, smacking his chest.

You looked around with pink cheeks, hoping that no one overheard him, which only made Jake crack up more. He had suggested that the two of you go for a walk down on the beach late that night, but you had been the one to suggest skinny dipping, which, of course, led to the two of you getting sand in some awkward places.

"No one's going to hear me," Jake replied confidently.

"I still can't believe that we did that," you sighed, holding a hand to your head. "What were we thinking?"

"We could have a repeat, if you wanted to jog your memory."

Scoffing indignantly, you leaned down and splashed Jake with some of the ocean water that was washing in towards shore. As he turned away from you, you straightened up and shook your head at him.

"Get your head out of the sand, Lieutenant."

The two of you eventually made your way back to your bags. Drying off with your towel, you sat down and laid back on your hands, soaking in the sun. Jake offered you a water, which you took with a quick 'thanks.’ Jake took his seat beside you again and the two of you chatted about the upcoming week.

But you couldn't help but notice how his eyes kept dropping down to your bump.

“Did you want to touch it?” you asked softly, causing Jake to whip his chin up to face you. “My bump, I mean.” 

“You don’t mind?” 

Sitting up a bit more, you reached over and grabbed his wrist. Dragging his hand over, you placed his hand on your small bump before leaning back again. You stared at the waves, letting Jake have the moment to himself. As much as you could anyways. It took a few moments but Jake spread his fingers out and gently cupped your bump with his hand. 

“Did your doctor say how long it would take until we can feel them move around?” Jake questioned, causing you to turn back to him. 

“She said that it’ll be a few more weeks. Maybe months. Depends on the baby, I guess.” 

Jake nodded slowly, staring down at your bump for a moment as he smiled softly.

"Well, here's where you were conceived, little one. I think, anyways."

Jake smirked to himself as you pinched his side in retaliation. Shaking your head at him, you looked down at your bump, which still had Jake’s hand draped over it.

"Just ignore him,” you told your bump.

~~~~~

You and Jake decided to take separate cars to Maverick’s house for dinner. You arrived early to try and scope it out and then Jake would come a few minutes after you. It was an attempt to try and reduce the initial shock of it all, though that wasn’t going to be very easy. Or maybe even possible. Walking into Maverick’s house with a batch of fresh cookies, you smiled when you spotted Emma. 

“Hey,” she greeted you, walking over to give you a tight hug. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” you replied nervously, returning her hug a bit tighter than normal. 

“Where’s . . .?”

“He’ll be here,” you assured her as you released her.

Emma nodded slowly before Maverick walked over to you. She took the plate of cookies from your hand and slipped away, leaving you and Maverick to talk. Maverick pulled you in for a hug, giving you some silent support. 

“It’ll be alright. He’s been in a good mood today,” Maverick whispered to you, causing you to nod slowly. “We’ll be here.”

You nodded again as Maverick pressed a supportive kiss to your head before releasing you. Taking a second, you composed yourself before walking into the dining area to finally see your brother. He was in the middle of setting something on the table when you approached and turned to you with a smile. 

“Hey, why the long face?” he joked, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Just worried that Emma let you cook again,” you lied, accepting his hug. “I thought I smelled smoke on my way in.”

“You’re the one that actually set the oven on fire last time,” Bradley scoffed, releasing you from the hug. 

“How was work last week?” you asked, helping your brother set the table. 

“Fine. Just some guys breathing down my neck about bullshit.” He glanced over at you from the corner of his eye. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’ve been much better,” you agreed, setting down some utensils. “Went to see my doctor.”

“And?”

“Everything’s fine,” you replied quietly. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Bradley stated, looking at you oddly. “So, what’s wrong then?”

“Nothing. I just have some news,” you spoke softly, looking away from your brother. 

“What kind of news?” Bradley asked, confused. 

“The kind that you should sit down for,” you responded, straightening up as Bradley frowned. After a moment, you added, “I’m going to grab something from my car and then I’ll come and explain it all to you guys.”

Without too much fuss, you turned and walked out the door. Jake was walking down the street, having chosen to park down the street, out of view of the dining room windows, when you stepped out of the house. You walked down a few steps to greet him.

“You ready?” Jake asked you. 

You nodded, smoothing down the front of your dress, before holding out your hand. Jake stared at it for a moment before taking it. Turning to the door, you opened it again and stepped inside, gently pulling Jake with you. 

At the sound of the door opening, Bradley turned away from his urgent conversation with Maverick. He quickly registered the fact that you weren’t alone, the fact that the person you were with was Hangman, and the fact that the two of you were holding hands. 

And Bradley did not look happy about it. 

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[nameless-jamie]

LOVED LOVED LOVED AT YOUR SERVICE!!! IT'S SO CUUUTE 🥰🥰🥰Could you write it from the teams perspective? Maybe they don't know the PA got injured and they just see Jamie carry her everywhere and they wonder if they got together and it's a whole scheme who will find out first?

Drabble - Richmond's POV

Read AT YOUR SERVICE first to understand!

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, mentions of sex

A/N: Hi I hope you like this small drabble on the teams POV of this whole ordeal!

Flashback to At Your Service:

...

"Bet you like me takin’ care of you, don’t you, love?"

She nearly choked on her food. "What?!"

Jamie grinned. "S’okay, baby, you can admit it. You love it, yeah? Me dotin’ on ya, carryin’ ya round, bein’ all sweet and that?"

...

The morning after Jamie Tartt starts carrying Y/N everywhere, the team knows something is up. It begins as an odd sight—Jamie walking into Nelson Road with Y/N in his arms, chatting with her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But it’s when it keeps happening that the speculation starts.

"Alright, what the fuck is this?" Isaac mutters to Colin as Jamie strolls past them, Y/N tucked against his chest like she’s royalty.

"Dunno, mate," Colin says, narrowing his eyes. "Did they finally get together? Because this is a very committed way of showing it."

"They must’ve had intercourse," Jan Maas interjects. "Or they are in love. Or both. I am merely stating facts."

The locker room buzzes with theories. Sam insists that maybe Jamie is just being kind. "Maybe she twisted her ankle or something? And now he has to carry her," he suggests, ever the optimist. Damn, that was actually a spot on guess...

"Nah, Jamie would not be this consistent with it unless it was somethin’ serious," Colin counters. "We gotta figure it out."

A betting pool emerges almost instantly. Who will crack the case first? Dani insists he will win because, as he puts it, "Love is my second passion after football, and I know love when I see it!"

The theories escalate.

"He lost a bet, and this is his punishment," Richard claims.

"They’re engaged," Bumbercatch says, nodding sagely. Followed by a chorus of "What the fuck, Bumbercatch?!"

"She’s testing a new line of trainers that make you feel like you’re flying, and Jamie is the control variable," Colin jokes.

"Maybe it’s a test of his strength?" Van Damme adds. "Like some sort of training routine?"

All the while, Jamie seems blissfully unaware of the whispers and exchanged glances. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. He carries Y/N into the physio’s office, to the canteen, even across the parking lot when they’re heading home. Y/N, for her part, protests weakly at first but then just lets it happen, occasionally rolling her eyes.

Then, of course, there’s Roy Kent, who is deeply unamused by the entire situation.

"You do know she can use our fucking crutches, yeah?" Roy grumbles after watching Jamie scoop Y/N up for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, but she’s not gonna be usin’ ‘em properly," Jamie argues, adjusting his hold on Y/N like she’s a particularly important package. "And she gets tired fast. Plus, I’m faster than she is with ‘em."

Roy just stares at him. "You’re a fucking idiot."

"Thanks, coach."

The team, meanwhile, is at war trying to crack the mystery first. They start setting up surveillance. Dani fakes needing extra tape from the physio just to spy on Jamie and Y/N. Jan Maas walks directly up to Jamie and asks if they are in love, only for Jamie to respond, "Dunno, mate. Didn’t ask her that today."

When the truth finally comes out—Y/N twisted her ankle and Jamie, being Jamie, just decided carrying her everywhere was the best solution—there is a collective groan of disappointment.

"Wait, so no secret romance?" Colin asks, scandalized.

"No engagement?" Bumbercatch sighs.

"Then why the fuck are you carrying her like she’s your fucking bride?" Isaac demands.

Jamie just shrugs. "Dunno. Felt right."

The team spends the rest of the week mourning the loss of their grand mystery. But the next morning, Jamie walks in with Y/N in his arms again, and the scheming starts anew.

[kyokikikie]

Fangirl

-> Akaashi Keiji x Reader

in which Y/n's energetic senior introduced her to a pretty setter to be his friend. ( but she's secretly a fangirl of that setter?!)

masterlist!(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-���)⁠✧

(a follow is very much appreciated 💙)

-> Akaashi Keiji wasn’t a sociable person. The only friends he had were his volleyball club members. Bokuto being the great friend he is, got worried for Keiji knowing that after he graduates, he would have no one to hang out with.

"I care about 'cha, Akaashi." The usually energetic ace rested his arms on the frame of the corridor window before turning back to his friend. "I mean it."

"Bokuto-san, I'll be fine. Besides, it's only one more year." Akaashi replied in his usual mundane tone.

Not wanting to give in, Bokuto swung his arm around his friend's shoulder. "Still, I don't feel easy..." The gray-haired senior thought for a moment then exclaimed, "One week! I'll find someone in one week! And if I don’t, I’ll take your word and accept the fact that you’re gonna be fine.”

So there he was, standing outside two classrooms away from his own. Akaashi sighed, “Bokuto-san, i hope you really didn’t gaslight anyone this time.”

“Hey! What kind of person do you think i am?!” Bokuto frowned, “plus, i really did find someone!” His gloomy expression turned cheerful in an instant. “Oh really?” Akaashi slurred his words sarcastically. It was hard to find someone who can actually handle Bokuto’s mood swings as good as him. “Stay here, Akaashi.” With that, the gray-haired senior entered the classroom with his usually greeting.

“HEY! HEY! HEY! Y/n-chan!” Were the only few words Akaashi could make it from their conversation. He leaned his back on the window glass and tilted his head up. Yet another exhausting sigh was let out from his lips. He had a perfect balance between schoolwork, training and sleep, so why does he feel so uncomfortable?

Just then, Akaashi heard a crowd of girls squealing. The setter had forced himself not to look towards their direction, knowing that it wasn’t his problem.

He lied

A brunette with two pigtails stepped forward from the crowd, the other girls cheering her on. She stopped in front of Akaashi, her eyes nervously shifted to the floor, “Akaashi, these are for you!” Her hands stretched out, shoving a bag of cookies and a letter which was all too familiar to him. “Please take it!” Akaashi felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to say ‘no thanks’ but the image of the girl bursting to tears made him flash a smile and muttered a thanks.

The brunette rushed back to the crowd of girls who showered her with questions.

“Akaashi’s really kind, right?”

“What did he say? What did he smell like?”

Slowly, they strolled away from Akaashi’s view. He hated the attention. He hated how guys from other classes would shoot daggers at him whenever he tried to interact with them. If Akaashi had been less noticeable, would he have no problem making friends of his own?

His thoughts were cut off when Bokuto came out of the classroom dragging a h/c-haired girl by her arm, “Akaashi, meet Y/n! Y/n, meet Akaashi!” He flashed a radiant smile. “Hope the both of you would get along yeah?” Y/n and Akaashi exchanged greetings and followed Bokuto around the school.

Akaashi couldn’t help but take small glances at her the whole time Bokuto was explaining things to her. He wondered if she was just like the group of girls earlier, a fangirl of his.

Could they ever be friends?

It wasn't until Bokuto left the pair to chat with his other friends for them to talk to each other. "Bokuto-senpai really is an extrovert, huh." The h/c-haired girl chuckled while the raven-haired boy simply nodded in response.

Her smile was just as bright as Bokuto's yet not noticeable by many. Her e/c eyes met his deep blue ones. They stared at each other till Y/n broke the silence, "So, you're in the volleyball club?"

Akaashi nodded

"what position?"

"setter."

"is it fun?"

"more or less."

Y/n shoots more simple questions which were quickly answered by short boring answers. "You know, Bokuto was actually my first friend in high school. I think it was... first-year? he came up to me when I was checking out the clubs." she reminisced, the corner of her lips curled upwards. "He wouldn't stop bugging me to join the boys volleyball team as thier manager. I was scared shitless by him and went to join the journalism club instead."

Akaashi's mouth formed and 'o'. he didn't know what to say. Y/n darted her eyes out the window, then turned back to look at him, "So for Bokuto's sake, I'm willing to open myself up to meet new people."

The raven-haired boy widened his eyes. After all, Bokuto really did look out for him — in one way or another.

"Hello, I'm Akaashi Keiji. Nice to meet you." Akaashi reintroduced himself, stretching his hand out.

Y/n flitched at the sudden warm gesture, her eyes softened. "L/n Y/n, likewise." her hand grasped his with bright smile plastered across her face as she shook it gently.

just like that, the school year ended.

Groups of students entered the classroom with their friends, laughers and chatters quickly filled their surroundings as they catch up with one another after the school break. It was finally Akaashi’s third-year in high school. Seeing the big smiles on everyone’s face, he sighed. Bokuto had graduated, leaving him alone at campus.

There was no one to talk to. No one to share his concerns for anymore. Akaashi had to admit, it was pretty boring without his loud, energetic, and cheerful senior to bug him around.

The raven-haired boy admired the view outside the classroom window. Just then, the image of the h/c-haired girl flashed across his eyes. It has been weeks? Months? Since Akaashi saw her. Yet her smile was still as radiant as the sun in his mind. Akaashi shook his head, there was no way Y/n would—

He was seconds away from finishing his thoughts when a girl stood in front of the classroom’s back door, panting. “Akaashi!” Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs.

His rounded eyes met hers

“Come on, lets each lunch together!” Swiftly, she grabbed his arm and dragged him out of his classroom. Students in the hallway were surprised by the new duo in sight.

Especially Y/n.

“Isn’t that Akaashi?”

“Huhhhh who’s that beside him?”

Despite that murmurs around them, Y/n continued to drag Akaashi down to the vending machine.

Akaashi cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. He finally asked, “What are you doing?”

The h/c-haired girl simply chuckled, “What do you think I’m doing?” Before Akaashi could respond to that rhetorical question, she continued, “I’m hanging out with a friend, duh!”

Hearing that response, Akaashi couldn’t help but frown. Her words ran through his mind for a moment.

“Friend.” She said.

And for once, there was a genuine smile on Akaashi’s face.

And for once, it wasn’t Bokuto or volleyball that made him feel that way.

“Don’t mind, don’t mind!” One of Fukurodani’s middle blocker assured the team.

They were having a practice match with a nearby school that wasn't as strong as Fukurodani, yet they were leading by 4 points.

“Hey Akaashi! get your head in the game!” Another second-year middle blocker called out.

Akaashi was trying to.

He was trying to block out the squeaky squeals from the group of girls above them. They were holding cutouts of words that said ‘Akaashi you can do it!’ And ‘Akaashi we love you!’ The cutouts weren’t an issue, but the screams they’d make whenever Akaashi was about to set the ball made him want to tear the whole place up.

And just like that, Fukurodani — a powerhouse school, had lost to a mere neighborhood school.

The blue-eyed setter left the school grounds in a hurry. He had promised his friend, Y/n, to walk home together but she was nowhere to be found.

Did she leave already? Did i take too long?

Akaashi didn’t know why there was a sharp pain in his heart.

Feeling dejected, he began his way to the bus stop. Usually he would head the opposite direction with the h/c-haired girl, walking her home almost everyday. Just as he was about to cross the street, Akaashi saw a familiar figure heading towards the convince store in front of him. It looked just like her.

The figure then looked out the glass wall, making eye contact with him. Her eyes widened and ran out of the building, “Akaashi!” She exclaimed, waving both her hands in the air. “I thought you went home already!” The blinking green man appeared on the pedestrian light, the setter let out a sigh of relief and smiled before crossing. He didn’t know why his cheeks turned red, It must’ve been the cold air right?

“Did you just got dismissed?”

“Yes, coach gave us an earful.” Akaashi lied. It wasn’t ‘us’ it was just him, His coach could tell that he was distracted the whole game by the way he would mess up his sets and serves. Y/n pulled him by the sleeves of his team jacket and went back into the convenience store. “It’s a pity that you lost… buy anything you want, my treat!”

After multiple insisting, they both sat down on the eating area with a cup of spicy instant noodles each. After one big slurp, Y/n hastily opened her bang and pulled out her wallet to buy herself a drink. Unknowingly, she had left her bag wide open.

As Y/n was choosing her drink, Akaashi couldn’t help but notice the bright pink words written on a piece of cardboard. It was way too familiar to him.

‘Akaashi we love you!’ It said.

He frowned. What was this doing inside her bag?

At first, Akaashi refused to believe it. He refused to believe that his closest friend would scream and kick her feet every time he interacts with her. Y/n knows how badly he hated his fangirls, so much till he wished that he could just be invisible. So why? Out of everyone, why must she be the one to have that pink sign that waves above him whenever he plays volleyball?

He didn’t know what to feel.

Betrayed? Sad? Furious?

Akaashi placed his pair of chopsticks down and stared into the horizon, eyes narrowing as a train of thoughts ran through his mind. Not long after, the said girl returned with a bottle of cola and the boy simply acted like nothing had happened.

“I didn’t expect it to be THIS spicy, you get what I’m saying?” She told him, eyes still on her red flaming noodles. Akaashi hummed in response, eyes glued to her instead of his own cup of noodles.

He observed each and every one of her actions. He was surprised as he found them… cute? But at the same time confused.

It was the same Y/n that he knew. Not some squealing girl asking him to accept chocolates.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

The pair slowly made their way to the bus stop, walking side by side. Y/n’s lips were swollen red due to the noodles that she ate. Akaashi wanted to break the silence but there was a lump in his throat, making him unable to do so.

The sky cackled and turned deep blue. It started with a light drizzle that soon turned into a downpour. The two quickly ran to the nearest shelter.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” Y/n asked as she stretched her right hand to feel the rain water.

The blue-eyed boy hesitated before shaking his head.

He didn’t know why. He clearly had one that was big enough for both of them if they squeezed together. So why did he lie?

Without questioning, the girl smiled and stepped away from the shelter. Her hair and clothes were soon drenched within minutes. She simply couldn’t care less. There were puddles all over the floor as she spun around them, soaking her shoes and socks in the process. Akaashi’s lips curled up. He thought she looked pretty. Doesn't everyone think their friend is pretty?

“Y/n, your books will get wet.” Akaashi called out, his voice muffled by the sound of rain droplets hitting the ground.

Y/n seemed to get the hint and ran back to him, water dripping from her whole body. ”My bag’s waterproof, it should be fine! Come join me Akaashi, it’s fun!” As soon as those words left her mouth, the clouds above began to part and the rain eased off.

“Oh- Nevermind then…” the h/c-girl started to squeeze her uniform dry, “Let’s go, It’s starting to get late.” With that, Y/n and Akaashi returned to how they were before the rain had started. Side by side, they reached the bus stop.

Like always, Y/n started a conversation with the boy sitting beside her. She expected his replies to be as monotone as usual. However, Akaashi had asked a question in return. It was a first.

Before Y/n could answer his attempt to continue the conversation, her bus came. Y/n stood up and bid Akaashi goodbye.

When she was about to board the bus, she had a sudden feeling of warmth draped across her shoulders. It was the Fukurodani volleyball team jacket. Her cheeks went red with embarrassment as she turned to Akaashi. “T-Thank you..” She stuttered and rushed into the back of the bus.

The bus door shuts and the engine whirred. Akaashi’s eyes soften as he thought about her smile. His eyes were still glued on the moving bus.

He didn’t know what he was feeling.

But what he did know, for the first time ever, he was glad to have girls fawning over him if it meant that she was one of them.

(💙 word count: 2313 words.)

(💙 a follow is very much appreciated)

[bigfan-fanfic]

Star Shower (Batdad Pokemon Fanfic)

Can you do a fic where the batboys seeing batdad do a pokemon contest performance for the first time in real life? Batdad used to be a top pokemon coordinator and sorta quietly stopped being a coordinator because of Bruce disappearing and the whole family of vigilantes and having to take care Wanye Enterprise. Now that the batboys are adults and (mostly) stop vigilante-ing, batdad decided to re-debut.

Bruce, of course, leads the family down the red carpet.

He's so very proud of his husband. He has always felt a little guilty about the fact that you had to take an early retirement from your Coordinator career to run Wayne Enterprises and watch over the family after he came back.

But now you're back in full form, and the press is on fire, calling it "The Return of the King" and other such dramatic claims.

You were known for the powerful combination of your Lucario and Gardevoir - a glorious display of simple martial prowess combined with psychic illusions and effects.

But there's been a surprising development.

Instead of Lucario, you've registered with Gardevoir and Cubone.

The very same Cubone you raised from an egg.

People are intrigued, knowing you're bringing something completely new, but totally unable to keep from speculating.

"B, did you ever go to one of Pops' shows?" Dick asks. He, Bruce, Tim, and Barbara head down the carpet - Jason and Damian and the others have sought out a more discreet entrance.

"I did, once, before I left for training. It was... beautiful. He actually pulled me onstage and kissed me in public for the first time, after the performance. Honestly, I can't recall much about that show, but I remember the cologne he wore that night." Bruce sighs happily.

Tim rolls his eyes. "Some help you are. I still don't know what we're going to see tonight."

"I sent you a whole file of Contest performances last month to get you up to speed!" Barbara protests. "Do you... mute the group chat?"

"It's just not as fun now that it's... just a normal family chat."

Dick laughs. "I don't think we're that normal, Timmy."

They do a few short sound bites for the press, making it clear that tonight they are here for you. And backstage, Jason and Damian have come to give you good luck hugs.

"Awwww, my baby boys." You chuckle.

"Papa, are you sure you'll be alright that Brown and Cain and the Rows and Thomas won't-"

"Don't remind him of that!" Jason growls. "He doesn't need-"

"It'll be fine. Alfred's watching them all, and I don't blame them for avoiding the press. It doesn't mean they aren't with me." You smile. "Plus, I know Tim will be recording it for them."

Jason hugs you. "Go get em, Dad."

You smile softly, then look down to Damian. "Dami? You alright?"

Damian gives you a little shaky smile. "I suppose I'm just... excited, is all. To see you perform."

"Me too, kiddo. Go find your seats, okay? I want you to make sure you stick by your dad. You know he gets anxious when you're all out in public."

As they head back, you don the classic hat and tailored suit you were known for as a young Coordinator, adjusted and updated for the man you are now.

And you walk out on stage to thunderous applause from the audience - the loudest cheers from your family. The other Coordinators flourish on their entrance, throwing their Pokeballs into the air wildly, but you simply open your hands and let them exit. A little shy to debut, Cubone tries to hide behind you, but Gardevoir lifts the little thing up with psychic power into your arms for a quick cuddle, making the audience "awwww."

Eventually the show continues, each Coordinator doing their set, leaving you for last. Which definitely sets them on edge, you can tell.

But you're here because you wanna show the world that you didn't lose yourself all those years ago.

You start out cross-legged on the stage, sitting down. Cubone cuddles in your lap before tumbling out, seemingly eager to show you something.

The audience gives a little chuckle at the orchestrated adorable tumble.

Cubone withdraws a large bone and begins to slowly swing it around, twirling it like a baton. And when it tosses the bone into the air, it... lifts.

And then another, and another. Seven bones float in a large oval, continuing to revolve faster and faster as they spin across the stage.

The spotlight darkens, as light fractures behind you both - the stage becoming a prismatic field of light. Gardevoir appears, floating in the middle of the circle of spinning bones.

Cubone gives an excited cry and hurls a Bonemerang and one by one the bones break open in bursts of glitter powder, which swirl and swirl like a nebula forming into a planetary ring.

Gardevoir twirls in midair, the center of the nebula, and sends the shining rainbow powder running down to the stage-

-only for Cubone to use Icy Wind to freeze the powder in midair, making a beautiful mix of rainbow and snow, in an intricate swirl as Gardevoir manipulates the crystal formation.

As a grand finale, Gardevoir levitates Cubone into the center of a globe formed of ice and glitter, only for it to use Earth Power, bursting out in green and gold light, dissolving the ice and sending the glitter drifting like stardust across the audience.

There's a moment of stunned silence. And then in a great wave, the audience stands, and as they applaud, you see your husband practically glowing with pride and awe.

Of course, you win the Contest, and you hold your Cubone close in reward. The press calls it the greatest Contest Comeback of all time, but you're too busy watching your family gently praise your shy little Cubone and elegant Gardevoir.

And your husband never leaves your side the rest of the night.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Soundly (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

Summary: You’ve injured your arm, leaving you frustratingly helpless to complete everyday tasks, like cleaning yourself. Your boyfriend and colleague Simon understands your apprehension towards accepting help for such a task and tells you how he does.

AN: Working title was “Sprain” for those of you who voted in the poll. I’ll be posting the Soap fics shortly and posting another poll for my other upcoming fics afterwards! Meanwhile, let me know what you think in replies or inbox me, tell me your thoughts on fics - present or future. 

I just want Ghost to feel loved and to recover from all the shit he went through. I did a fic for that and sharing a bed, so I’m doing this one for the reader a.k.a. me. Plus I like the head canon that Ghost is actually kinda talkative, like in the Alone mission. I know he’s probably partly chatting to Johnny to because he’s trying to keep him focused, guiding him to regroup and survive. But he’s telling dumb jokes and joking about watching his torture video. He’s got banter and trauma!

Content warnings: Allusions to Ghost’s time being tortured by Roba and the Mexican Cartel - specifically his SA as well as the reader’s. Reader is GN, no use of Y/N

Masterlist // AO3

For “just a sprain”, your elbow hurt like a bastard. It was resting in the hammock of the sling your doctor ordered you to keep on. Almost smugly, it sent a few stings across the bone when you were also instructed to restrict your movements and get support to complete day-to-day tasks before you were signed off on a month’s medical leave – pending review at the end of it for being brought back to work.

It was half your fault. The sprain in the first place was caused by some asshole who would not go down quietly and attempted to dislocate your limb. Thankfully, your training automatically twisted you into a position preventing that but then you had to shoot that asshole and your gun was in the arm he’d injured. The bullet that you fired solidified the damage and you were forced to focus hard on aiming with your non-dominant hand whilst slugging it over to the Heli half a klick to the west for recon. You didn’t have to shoot the guy straight away. You’d kicked him down and he was too far from his own weapon to have made it before you could have swapped your gun to your other hand and ended his life the same miserable way. But nah, in the heat of gunfire, you’d decided to end the fight as quick as possible then ran like a bat out of hell back to safety where the rest of your crew was headed.

Simon had known you long enough – and dated you long enough – to not treat you like glass. He wouldn’t insult you like that. Therefore you were very grateful that he was the one to take you home, and that his driving was a lot steadier and smooth on the motorway.

Letting you open the front door, he carried both his and your bags inside, ready to start your medical leave this instant. He was heading out of the hall with his shoes dropped loudly onto the rack when he asked:

“You want anything specific for tea?”

“Nah, I’m good with whatever.”

Despite years of therapy, this injury had dealt a hefty blow to your pride; you didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you were going to be over the next few weeks. Thank God you’d been to his place enough times for it to be considered familiar.

From the airing cupboard, you collected the towel that Simon had bought you after your fifth stay here and smiled at the memory of shopping for it together. He’d asked for what colour you preferred then gathering other items into the trolley that were the same shade: toothbrush, wash cloth, cup to sit by the bathroom sink. He was nice like that.

The bathroom door locked behind you, the final ebbs of afternoon reaching in through frosted glass. You thanked the sun for enabling you to keep the lights off; the buzz that accompanied their stark spark on the silky tiles was always too much for you. However as warm as the daylight was, it failed to soothe your state. When you tried to retrieve the memory of how you’d gotten this t-shirt on in the first place, your mind offered you a blank slate and tears of frustration bubbling over, stinging worse than the injury as you tried to warp it against its will. But to no avail. Your bitten tongue surrendered so that the crying could commence with your t-shirt still stuck on your body.

Gentle rapping at the door didn’t halt anything. Surrendering felt like an admission of weakness, failure, and it poisoned you against yourself as you twisted the lock in the handle and slumped on the rim of the bath.

A pair of plain-socked feet appeared at the top of your line of sight, lingering on the cobalt carpet side of the door frame.

“Can I borrow your scissors please?” You asked, toying with a stray string dangling from the hem.

“You gonna stab me?” Simon inquired semi-sarcastically.

“Yes.” It was a pathetic little reply. But Simon pushed off the bath, belongings tinkling against one another as he rooted around then retrieved a small pair of scissors from the top shelf.

He sat down beside you on the rim, holding out the scissors by the blade, “It’s a nice shirt.”

You wiped your nose on the hem before taking the scissors, “It’s just Primark.”

“I can help you out of it, if it is Primark’s finest.”

“Was just cut it off.”

But of course your dominant hand was tied up in the sling, and you only just realised now.

“I could help you take it off.”

You’d never been undressed around Simon. The closest you’d gotten were jogging bottoms you’d cut into knee-length shorts and the sleeves of your t-shirt pushed onto your shoulders whilst you both worked out at opposite ends of the gym. Towards the end of your set, you mopped at your brow with the hem of your shirt once and the sliver of skin nearly sent Simon into anaphylactic shock.

He knew why you grappled with the notion of undressing. But he didn’t ever linger on you going elsewhere to change. Across your relationship, and even before it started, he’d shown you love in so many other ways that you would forget about what had happened to you.

Today was the first time he addressed it: “I understand why you wouldn’t want me to help.”

Without moving your head, your watchful stare latched onto his adjusting to the nuisance of sitting on a thin perch of porcelain. He withdrew his skull balaclava from its suffocating in his pocket and began kneading at it until the eyehole faced the ceiling you’d stared at many times, wishing you could be more intimate with the man you loved more than life.

 “Your reasons aren’t so different from mine.” And he held out the mask to you.

The olive branch was accepted and you thumbed over the skull plate as best you could with the scissors still in your grip. Only when your thumbnail caught against the paint depicting a cheekbone did it dawn on you what your boyfriend was referring to.

“Simon-”

“None of that,” He interrupted you, gently, firmly, “I get it. I don’t wanna bother you if you don’t want me here.”

He rubbed along your shoulder as you matched your deep breaths to his, resting your eyes to bask in his comfort and crushing the mask in your loose fist. You’d always equated it to anonymity. Never had you thought of linking it to another form of comfort.

“You can bathe with your clothes on,” Simon suggested after a minute’s silence.

“Do you know how hard it is to remove wet denim?” You muttered with a crooked smile.

“I do,” and he pressed a kiss to your forehead – his preferred place to do so. “Let’s give this a go.”

You handed back his balaclava and took in his bare face, the medical mask – the one he’d been wearing whilst you were in the hospital and all the way home - gone, his expression carefully crafted to be neutral so that you didn’t have to be.

He eased your sling off you after the taps were thundering steaming water into the tub. Then he vanished to his room, returning with a pair of baggy sports shorts. Cradling them like a baby, your nose welcomed their softness and the steam whilst Simon knelt onto the fluffy bathmat, nodding after splashing the bathwater and twisting the taps into silence.

“I’m gonna stink if I don’t wash properly,” You whispered.

After opening his palms to you, Simon took your shorts and arranged them on the floor, “I’ll get you some wet wipes to use while we wait for your arm to heal up.”

You held onto his shoulders whilst he undid your jeans and eased them down your legs, his hands careful to stay hidden in the fabric whilst you stepped out of them and into the shorts. Simon to pulled them up to your hips.

“Why did the magician take a bath?” He asked you as you lowered yourself into the water.

“I dunno, why?”

“To clean up his act.”

Your chest quivered, struggling to hold in your groans and giggles whilst Simon pumped some blueberry body wash into his palm, “That’s good.”

Tenderly he circled the soap across your forearm, “Fancy another?”

“Go on.” You were nothing if not his little enabler, indulging in his humour even after the rest of 141 had lightly roasted him for it.

“Knock, knock.”

Your free hand fiddled with the sodden hem of your t-shirt, “Who’s there?”

“Dwayne.”

“Dwayne who?”

Soaking the flannel and wringing it out over your arm, Simon began to wash the suds away, “Dwayne the bathtub before I dwown.”

Your smile was not dampened by the tears that rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the shallow waterline. Instead, you focused your blurry vision on Simon’s hoodie sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows, those broad forearms sprinkled with droplets and soapsuds.

When Simon was lathering up some more body wash, you offered your own joke: “What did the man say after he swallowed a clock and went to the toilet?”

“What?”

“Watch out.”

Simon snorted loudly whilst carefully manipulating your injured arm amidst the blueberry bubbles.

You wiped a new tear away on your shoulder: “I’ve already told Kyle but you can tell it to Johnny.”

“Much obliged.”

With permission and a slow touch, he started soaping up your shins. His contact always lingered for hours on your skin. This felt like a polish, not a scratch or a dent, which is why you felt so overwhelmed now, just as you did that first time he gave you a proper bear hug. You didn’t mind the blueberry, something else to focus on instead of letting yourself meander towards conjuring disturbing imaginations of what you’d just learnt about Simon’s capture in Mexico.

He let you take over for washing your thighs, sitting on the toilet still talking to you with a smile that cracked up his face like the scar, from lip to brow. His eyes never strayed from your face, though it never felt like you were a target down his scope, more like feeling the sun first thing in the morning with a delicate breeze that danced around your being. Such a gaze wasn’t alien to Simon, even if he rarely showed it to you, and never to anyone else. You were just grateful that he was able to be like this, and that he still chose to.

That same stare, he held it whilst draping a towel around your shoulders, patting over your arms before he gathered it at the front for you to hold in your healthy hand. Then he collected a pile of clean clothes from the bedroom, placing them onto the closed toilet lid, you noted the crisply ironed button up folded on top. You settled for nestling your head against his chest since you were unable to hug him.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

The door was locked after Simon disappeared behind it. You did end up cutting yourself out of the shirt, rest in peace. Fogged-up, the mirror wasn’t so bad to stare at whilst you moisturised with your good hand. You could still feel where Simon’s calloused hands had brushed over your skin, tingling in each follicle, and it was protected by the button-up you were able to slide on – one of the few Simon owned. His bulk was once again your gain; the shirt was loose enough to give you some wiggle room whilst dressing.

Clattering from the kitchen caught Simon in the act of putting away the ironing board. He was taking loud and rehearsed deep breaths that hissed through the fabric of his freshly-donned balaclava, the board under his arm before he tossed it into its assigned slot. His hand shook as it released the cupboard door handle, searching for something to distract himself with until he latched his stare onto you bunching your shirt in the front.

“I can’t do my buttons up,” You said quietly.

Your stomach impulsively sucked in on itself when his hands reached for the buttons before it, joining them with the fabric. Nevertheless, your gaze found solace in the thatch of fine chest hair growing in the lowest peak of his V-neck.

Simon started from the bottom button and made his way up. With each wince, his fingers stalled. But you knew he’d never hurt you, never on purpose and never like that. He made steady progress until complete and even helped you replace your sling. But then he sniffed and brushed his nose briefly, stepping away and back to the kitchen. For five minutes he alternated between sifting through the cupboards and staring helplessly into the fridge, his face washed out by the stagnant light inside. You took the time to help him in one of the ways you knew how.

“I’ll order us a takeaway.”

Immediately he slammed shut the fridge door, “You’re a fucking star.”

You were not put off by his pacing back and forth, nor were you by his hovering over you like a gargoyle whilst you tapped at the screen – which you held in a way for him to see clearly in case he wanted to add something. A wide berth allowed you to approach him on the couch with the takeaway when it arrived half an hour later (always reliable, hence why it was your go-to takeaway place). Simon also accepted the drink you brought him, but only because he’d already gotten you one plus two pain meds he made sure you took after getting some food into your stomach first.

The cushioned lap trays you’d invested in were already paying for themselves.

Dinner inhaled and rendering you quite soporific, you mirrored Simon’s earlier actions and tentatively shuffled closer to him, “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” His arm dropped to around your waist, and you tugged on his wrist to keep it there. Only then did you tentatively wrap yourself around his full belly.

“Fuckin’ softie,” He said under his breath. That didn’t stop him from giving you a little squeeze – his hand no longer trembling - and sinking himself lower so that there was no pressure on your sprain. He turned the volume down a little, which sparked inspiration in your mind.

Half hiding in his t-shirt, you projected loud enough for him to hear you: “The local TV controller museum shut down due to no visitors. Turns out people aren’t remotely interested.”

“Have you been researching these instead of doing your paperwork?”

“What makes you think I haven’t been doing my paperwork?”

Simon looked down at you, those expressive eyes communicating both the “are you fucking for real?” and the “you’re lucky you’re cute” in equal parts. But from the way his balaclava was balanced on his face, you could tell he was smiling at you. So you smiled back at him then snuggled back against him with a contented sigh and the existence of your new joke book still a secret (for now).

The next time you opened your eyes, it was much darker in the living room. A blanket was tucked around your legs. The glow of “Are you still watching Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang?” from the flat-screen, despite that not being what you were watching when you first drifted off, bathed you in enough low light to allow you a comfortable adjustment period. You squinted up at your boyfriend. Head back in the pillows, his chest was rising and falling with each breath he drew and released through his nose. You adjusted the blanket around to cover his legs too and, tucking yourself back into your bundle, both you and Simon slept soundly.

[caineinthecorner]

Hi. I binged like 80 chats in a row and I have opinions(tm) about physical strength and general power stuff of the brothers. Mostly just strength related things, but I tried to cover most of their battle stuff.

Yes I know, yes I know, "they're ranked as siblings by power blabla", but that's LAME. So here are my personal takes mostly for fun. Canon is dead and I ate it.

Also I finished the dividers and general aesthetics of this blog woo

★ Lucifer.

Generally the strongest, period, can and WILL kill almost anyone without much issue or even second thought

Physical strength, however? He’s not the best, as he doesn’t rely on it at all for battle / conflict

He didn't need it in heaven, after all

(Beel was his brawns and he was already a powerful angel so it never was a requirement)

I don't see him actively working out (anymore, at least), so most of his strength is merely his baseline

His main tactic conflict wise is intimidation.

Cough giving MC death threats cough

Very prideful of himself in battle, obviously

Rarely would ever use any sort of dirty tricks

Would probably prefer to go down the "honorable way"

Target his brothers though and he WILL play every trick in the book with little regard to his pride or his own life

This fuck looks like he knows swordsmanship and is probably the only of the brothers who does so

(except maybe Satan who is learning just to copy / be better than him)

Either that or he knows fancy sword dances for angel rituals he cannot partake in anymore (and doesn't do them anymore)

Diavolo has photos of him doing said dances but his lips are triple sealed since it is a heavily touchy subject

★ Mammon.

Canonically this man is physically weak (or at least has a weak complexion / scrawny arms)

Probably the most disappointing in terms of strength because he is literally the second born

His saving grace is his unholy speed and dirty tricks, using it to cover his weaknesses / lack of physical strength.

A LOT of dirty tricks and bs magic stuff. So so many. Never ends

He’s the living embodiment of the “random bullshit go!!!” meme

You know Looney tunes? Yeah this man has the Bugs bunny's levels of bullshit

But he has the best stamina out of his brothers (so he can run away from his debts)

Doesn't train because he's already perfect as it is (<- that's his ego talking he can barely pick up the weights at Beel's gym)

Honor is for the dead type of person. Nothing is out of the table in battle

(^ that makes him terrifying to fight against btw)

He either tries to intimidate (imitating Lucifer) or sweet-talk his way out of conflict

It usually just pisses off his adversary more which actually leads to the fights starting, but hey, he tried 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

★ Leviathan.

Physical strength is shit.

he will get his shit kicked if he tries to brawl with almost anyone

Except maybe the lowest hanging fruit (humans)

Magical or general strength is decent, but he's definitely not the greatest in battle out of the brothers

^ he's kinda insecure about this and he wishes he were stronger (he sulks about it)

Wishes that actual irl battles were like Fire Emblem or strategy games bcs he's actually good in those

Update: I didn't make it clear (mb lol) but I see him as the best strategist of the brothers by far, he just isn't good at front-line action

^ Being away from the front lines keeps the pressure away from him for the most part, and it avoids him getting riled up and acting rash

He once tried to workout with Beel but quickly got overwhelmed because Beel shoved 200kg weights onto him thinking it was an reasonable starting point

So he kinda has trauma(tm) about it

Despite his garbage physical prowess, he WILL start fights and get riled up easily

He goes onto his demon form immediately when he wants to fight

^ bcs his strength isn't great, and he needs any boost he can get

Plus, awful anger management

My man will get onto a fist fight with the demon equivalent of a redditor over anime waifus and he will lose

★ Satan.

As the literal embodiment of Wrath, he does pack quite a punch and will maul you to death with only his fists. No problems at all

But that's merely his baseline strength (which is a lot) since he doesn’t really train physically

Probably focuses on other areas (read: intelligence) instead of physical strength.

Which is ironic because he could kick Lucifer's ass in a fist fight if he actually trained more

But oh well. Books do be booking

Surprisingly strategic while in fights, although not above Going Apeshit

Funnily enough the least likely of the brothers to enter a fight

Has read The Art Of War and will quote it just to be a smartass

★ Asmodeus.

Physically? Weak.

Probably the weakest of the brothers, having more or less the strength of a human (and on the weaker side of that).

He doesn’t train whatsoever; Likes his slender figure and muscles “ruin” that.

However, he makes up for it on the "trickster" scale.

As the Avatar of Lust, he will probably go the charm route instead of wanting to directly fight his enemies, or he make someone else do the dirty work for him.

Think of Mammon but make it a bit less scummy, tricks wise.

His go-to is sweet talk.

Something something the Avatar of Lust being physically weak since sex is considered an act of vulnerability and therefore the lowering of one’s guard something something

Something something the poetic narrative of the Avatar of Lust having only power through Communication something something

★ Beelzebub.

Contrary to Asmo; he does lift for days and can pack quite the punch, being one of the stronger brothers physically despite being one of the youngest.

I don't see him caring much for magic or other types of strength, he is content in packing the punch and has the capabilities to back him up.

Fight wise he will probably punch the problems away

Maybe use one or two tricks he’s learned

Mostly relies on his intuition and gut and it surprisingly works out

Nothing fancy; Dictionary definition of all muscle no brain battle wise

Literally one of the scariest brothers to ever fight he will actually beat you to a bloody pulp

And make a smoothie out of it

★ Belphegor.

This fucker doesn't lift at all you can't tell me shit

At MOST he'll accompany Beel to the gym and would sleep at the benches

The strength he has is the strength he was born with

Which isn't a lot, but still above human average by quite a lot

More or less demon standard of strength. Maybe a slightly below it

But he's still above most demons by a mile in other regards, mostly magic prowess

He's stronger than Levi because I think it would be hilarious that the dude who sleeps all day is stronger than him

(or you can make him really physically strong just because it'd be funny to see the sleepy dude kick ass)

(either way is funny as shit go ham)

★ Physical strength chart

Behemoth type strength :

Beel (only barely)

Lucifer

Satan

High / Low above human average :

Mammon

Belphie (low diff w/ mammon)

Levi

Asmo

★General strength chart

Can kill hundreds no effort :

Lucifer

Satan (If apeshit)

Are not as strong but still terrifying :

Mammon

Beel

Belphie

Levi, Asmo (Tie)