#road glide custom

[hamsterclaw]

You end up being responsible for Jeon Jungkook, who's impulsive, annoying and in the habit of breaking the law. Unfortunately for you, he's also funny and sexy as fuck. There's no way this can end well, can it?

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: Crack, smut, rookie lawyer reader and criminal JK

Rating: 18+

Word count: 11k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, criminal activity, smoking

Present day

‘Who,’ breathes Gracie, your new client, ‘the fuck is that?’

You look in the direction she’s facing, and die inside, as the black custom Skyline glides to a smooth stop on the road, in front of you.

‘Uh, so I’ll call when I hear back about the patents,’ you say hurriedly, before….

Too late. 

The passenger door opens, and you hear Gracie gasp audibly as she sees the man in the driver’s seat.

His wavy dark hair almost covers his eyes. He rakes his tattooed hand through his hair casually, his silver piercings gleaming in the light from the streetlamps above you.

You get in before he can say anything, shutting the door firmly behind you. 

‘Just drive,’ you say, through gritted teeth.

‘Seatbelt,’ he reminds you, but he’s already pulling away from the curb.

You buckle up and stare out the window so you don’t have to look at his ridiculously pretty face.

‘Nice skirt,’ he says.

‘Don’t talk to me,’ you snap.

‘Fine,’ he says, just to annoy you.

He flicks the music on, and the interior of the car fills with the pulsing synth of the early 90s house that he’s been into lately.

He’s a good driver, you’ll give him that.

By the time he pulls into the underground car park of your building, your head is pounding from the loud music he’s played the entire journey home.

You know from experience that if you complain he’ll just turn it up louder.

‘Did you get into anything when I was with my client?’ you ask, because you have to.

The lying asshole has the audacity to give you an innocent look. It’s surprisingly effective, he was born with the wide eyes and pouty lips required to pull it off.

You remind yourself again that Jeon Jungkook is not to be trusted.

You raise an eyebrow, and wait.

Finally, he says, ‘Nothing.’

You harden your stare.

‘Nothing,’ he insists. 

He kills the engine and you both exit the car and head for the lifts.

He lives in the apartment next to yours, and the only reason a rich asshole like him is in your building is because his rich parents have paid for him to stay next to you, as his appointed guardian.

It’s an unconventional arrangement which he’d only agreed to because the alternative was jail time. 

You’d only agreed to it because his mother is your boss at the law firm you work at, and it’s not just that you need the job, but you’re also one step away from becoming an associate.

Jungkook holds the lift door open with a booted foot.

‘After you,’ he says.

‘The doors are automatic, you don’t have to hold them open,’ you point out.

You know he knows this.

Anyone who’s ever been in a lift knows it.

Jungkook admires himself in the lift mirrors. You look away, but not before he catches you looking at him.

‘Like what you see?’ he asks, voice velvety.

‘No,’ you say flatly, turning away.

He snickers softly but says nothing else.

You reach your floor and sigh with relief. 

Finally. 

It’s been a long day, and you can’t wait to go home and recharge in the solitude of your apartment.

You can already feel yourself sinking into the plushness of your new sofa after a hot shower. It’s Thursday, too, so there’s a new episode of your favourite drama being released today, and there’s leftovers in the fridge….

Jeon Jungkook’s annoying voice interrupts your daydream.

‘I have to go out again tonight,’ he tells you.

One stipulation his parents made to your unusual arrangement is that you have to accompany him whenever he leaves the apartment after dark.

‘Why?’ you ask, letting your irritation show in your tone.

‘I said I’d meet some guys,’ he says. He holds his hands up as you glare at him. ‘It’s for business.’

You’ve reached your door. You think longingly of your sofa and your drama, and stifle a sigh.

‘I just need a shower and to eat before we go,’ you say, resigned.

‘Fine. I’ll knock in an hour, ok?’ he says.

You don’t bother to respond.

By the time he knocks at your door, you’re out of your work clothes and in sweats and a hoodie.

At his surprised look you raise your eyebrows at him. 

‘Am I underdressed for your business meeting?’ you ask, like you care.

He rolls his eyes. ‘I just thought you only wore business pantsuits,’ he replies, smiling sweetly at you.

Your stomach growls. You’d spent too long in the shower and hadn’t had a chance to eat. It’d been worth it.

You ignore it and lock your apartment door.

‘I’m ready.’

Jungkook whistles the tune from a newish pop song as you head for the lifts.

He’s annoyingly melodic, and now the infectious tune’s in your head.

You focus on not humming along as you follow him to his car and get in the passenger seat.

‘Seatbelt,’ he says, and you roll your eyes.

‘Yes, mum.’ 

‘You look and act like you’re 14,’ Jungkook retorts, navigating out the car park.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask, looking out the window, ignoring his comment.

‘Verve,’ he replies, casual.

You sit up. ‘What?’

Verve is the newest, hottest restaurant in town. It opened a month ago, and it’s still impossible to get a table.

‘I can’t go there dressed like this!’

Jungkook shrugs. ‘No one asked you to get into your PJs.’

You’re livid. ‘You should have told me.’

Jungkook shrugs again. ‘You didn’t ask specifically.’

You have to sit on your hands to stop yourself from punching his smug, pretty face. You catch sight of yourself in the rearview mirror and whip the towelling headband you use when you wash your face off your head.

You seethe silently in the passenger seat until Jungkook turns to you. 

‘Stop breathing so angrily.’

‘I’m sorry my essential functions are expressing unacceptable emotions to you,’ you gripe. 

‘That’s not normal breathing,’ Jungkook argues.

There’s a few beats of silence, then Jungkook prods your side. 

‘Don’t hold your breath either.’

You suck in an irritated breath and try to moderate your tone. ‘In the future I’d appreciate some notice if we’re going anywhere with a dress code,’ you tell Jungkook.

‘Fine,’ Jungkook agrees. ‘I like short skirts, if I may express a preference.’

‘You. May. Not.’ You say, clipped.

He just laughs to himself as he reverses effortlessly into a slot on the street outside the restaurant.

‘These guys,’ he starts, then breaks off. ‘Are you wearing a bra?’

You cross your arms across your chest defensively. ‘Shut up.’

‘Your tits look great,’ Jungkook says. 

‘Shut up!’

Jungkook opens the door to Verve, and you wait nervously next to him.

You can feel eyes on you, as soft and snuggly as your hoodie and sweats are, they make you stand out in all the wrong ways in this place full of people in discreet labels.

You shuffle self-consciously as the host arrives and gives you a none-too-subtle once-over.

He opens his mouth, and Jungkook says, ‘We have a reservation at eight, Frederic said he’d block out the terrace for us.’

The whole demeanour of the host changes at Jungkook’s words. 

‘Of course. You must be Mr Jeon.’ 

You find yourself being ushered through the restaurant and up a back staircase to a huge terrace with heat lamps, a glass ceiling and Koi pond in the centre of the terrace. 

‘What the fuck,’ you mutter. 

Jungkook gives you his greasiest smile, and you glower at him in response.

The two men he’s here to meet are dressed like mafia consiglieres, and they, like the host, look at you doubtfully as you approach with Jungkook.

‘My lawyer,’ Jungkook says, not bothering to introduce you by name or with any accuracy.

You’re a lawyer, but not his lawyer, and you’re glad for it because you have no obligation to keep any of his assholery confidential.

The mafia guys eye you with renewed respect, and you keep quiet.

‘Before we start, can we order? My lawyer here skipped dinner,’ Jungkook says.

You’re so surprised at his thoughtful gesture you stare at him. 

He ignores you, already looking through the tablet one of the men has handed him. 

***

The buzzing of your phone is insistent and pervasive, pulling you further and further out of the warm cocoon of the best sleep you’ve had in a while.

You’re floating on clouds, weightless and boneless and warm and in the distance you can see an angel, smiling at you. He’s got dark hair, a physique sculpted by Italian masters, and a tattoo sleeve…

What the fuck!

You bolt upright and your phone falls off your pillow, clattering onto the floor.

You pick it up and accidentally answer, only to be greeted by the grinning ass face of one Jeon Jungkook.

It’s a video call, which means…. 

He can see you!

With a horrified yelp you toss the phone onto your bed.

‘I’ve already seen everything,’ he assures you, muffled on account of your phone being face down in your sheets. ‘Now you’re awake, can I come over?’

‘What do you want, Jeon Jungkook?’ you snap, pulling your covers up to your neck.

‘I want your opinion on something,’ he says.

‘What’s the magic word?’ you ask. 

‘I’ll tell my mum you’re associate material….’

‘Please, don’t act like I don’t deserve that position off my own back,’ you reply, bored. 

‘I’ll let you watch me work out shirtless at the gym,’ he offers.

‘Like you’re going to be able to resist posting a gym selfie later,’ you scoff. 

‘Please,’ he says. 

You sigh. ‘Fine. Give me five minutes to brush my teeth.’

‘Don’t feel you need to put anything on, over that silky pink thing you’re wearing,’ Jungkook tells you.

You hang up without taking the bait.

When he knocks at your door, you give him an assessing look. 

‘Does helping you involve anything illegal?’ you ask.

‘I have a date. You’re a woman,’ Jungkook says, adding ‘almost’ under his breath. 

You scowl at him. ‘Go on, keep insulting me, that’ll make me want to help you more.’

He holds out a mug. ‘I made you coffee.’

You look suspiciously at it. ‘Did you roofie this?’

Jungkook scoffs. ‘Please why wouldn’t I want you to remember the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.’

‘Get out of my apartment.’

‘No, please,’ he pleads, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘I need your advice on which set to wear.’

You realise he’s also holding a garment bag.

‘Fine,’ you say, waving a hand.

You sip your coffee. It’s surprisingly good, but you nearly choke on it when Jungkook slips his shirt over his head and starts unbuttoning his jeans.

‘Wait!’ you shriek. ‘What are you doing?’

He looks down at his beautiful naked torso, feigning confusion. You know he’s faking because of the smug smirk on his face.

‘I need to try them on so you know what they look like on me,’ he says, innocent.

‘There are two bedrooms in this apartment,’ you say, stern. ‘Use one of them to change. Do not come out until you are fully dressed.’

Jungkook pouts but still flexes a little as he struts past you. You pretend not to notice how his back muscles taper into his slender waist.

As he gets changed, you consider what you might want for breakfast. It’s Saturday, so the brunch place down the corner opens earlier. 

Shit! Saturday?

Jungkook mistakes the expression on your face as a reaction to his outfit rather than your own internal screaming.

‘Shit. I knew it. Too much?’ he asks, turning around so you can see how the rips running up the backs of his legs in the jeans he’s wearing go all the way up to the edges of his boxer briefs.

‘No, you look like a sexy whore,’ you say absently, scrolling your calendar.

You look up to see him frowning at you.

‘And yet, you’re not looking,’ he complains.

‘I have a date tonight too,’ you tell him.

He looks so surprised you toss a throw cushion at him.

‘Are you lying because you don’t want me to think you’re a sad workaholic who’s been chronically single since university?’ he asks, with such accuracy you throw another throw cushion at him.

You wonder if that’s why they’re called throw cushions.

‘It’s a blind date,’ you say. ‘My friend Hyunjin set it up. Also I don’t give a shit what you think, at least he’s not an ex-con.’

Jungkook looks hurt. ‘I’m not an ex-con either,’ he points out.

Which reminds you of your arrangement.

‘We can’t both go on dates tonight,’ you say. ‘I’ll cancel.’

‘What, so you can blame me for being single forever? No way. I’ll take care of it. Where’s your date?’

Jungkook pulls his phone out of the pocket of his almost jeans.

You tell him the name of the restaurant.

‘I’ll have my date there too,’ Jungkook decides. He flashes you a smarmy grin that makes you throw your last cushion at him.

He’s already heading out the door. ‘Pick you up later and we can go together,’ he says.

Your door closes behind him, then opens again almost immediately. 

‘By the way,’ he says, holding up a pair of your silk panties. ‘I’m borrowing these.’

You fumble for something else to throw at him but he’s already closed the door again.

His infuriating laughter echoes in your ears long after he’s gone.

***

Jungkook’s taunts sound in your head as you get ready for your date.

You gaze in the mirror at your reflection critically.

Is your dress too short? Are your shoulders weird looking? And what the hell is happening with your hair?

You remind yourself that you can’t go another year of being single at your family’s annual get-together. You can already hear your  Auntie Rina’s probing questions, your cousin Binna’s smug comments, your brother Jin’s increasingly acidic barbs to anyone who tries to criticise you.

Besides, it’d be nice to meet someone who’d care if you were sick or who’d come over to chase away a spider if it took up residence in your bathtub. 

You purse your lips for a coat of lip tint and put the wand back just in time before the familiar, side-of-fist banging on your door starts.

At least he’s consistent, you think ruefully to yourself as you yell, ‘Coming, keep all your clothes on!’ 

You pull on your coat and belt it snugly as you slip your shoes on.

You nearly get Jeon Jungkook’s fist in your face as you yank open the door.

You duck at the same time he startles and says ‘Shit, sorry!’

‘It’s fine,’ you say, hoisting your bag on your shoulder.

You turn to go and realise he’s still standing by your door, staring at you.

You’re conscious of your heels and bare legs and that you’re wearing more makeup than usual. 

‘Spare me whatever is about to come out of your mouth,’ you say, spiky.

You’re honestly one rude comment away from going back into your apartment and your cosy couch. You still haven’t caught up on your drama.

You head for the lifts without looking to see if he’s following.

***

Jungkook holds the door open for you at the restaurant your blind date picked.

‘Do you have a reservation?’ asks the hostess. 

You give her your date’s name and she beams at you. ‘Right over here, follow me.’

She leads you to a table where a man is already sitting waiting.

He stands as you approach, and holds his hand out.  ‘Jang Junwoo,’ he says.

You introduce yourself and notice he’s looking awkwardly over your shoulder.

You realise Jungkook’s still standing behind you. 

‘Can I get you something, Jungkook?’ you ask, teeth gritted.

‘Nope,’ he says, cheerfully. ‘I’m just waiting for you to move so I can take my seat.’

You realise with horror that he’s indicating the table right next to yours in this cosy restaurant.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ you say. 

Jungkook winks at you. ‘I hear the steak’s good.’

***

Jang Junwoo is kind of pretentious, you think, but then again a lot of these finance bros are. He spent a minute more than necessary pontificating over the wine’s bouquet, but he’s been polite enough to the waitress, and he has asked you a few questions about yourself.

Looks wise, he’s kind of your type, you think. He’s clean cut, tall and with a lean physique set off by his well-fitted shirt. He’s not got any visible tattoos or piercings, which is fine with you.

You’re not into that at all.

Beside you, Jungkook’s date, a petite bottle blonde in a low-cut dress with the best natural-looking cleavage you’ve seen laughs at one of his jokes.

She’s been laughing a lot, which is funny, because Jungkook’s really not that funny at all.

You realise Junwoo’s asked you a question.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise. ‘I missed what you said.’

‘He asked if you like to work out,’ Jungkook supplies helpfully from beside you, barely two feet away. 

He leans forward, and in a stage whisper, tells Junwoo, ‘I’ve never seen her in our gym.’

‘Stop eavesdropping on my date,’ you hiss. 

Jungkook continues, ‘But she looks good in athleisure.’

He smiles like he’s just helped you, and you turn pointedly away. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise again to Junwoo. ‘I’m his court appointed guardian. It was this arrangement or prison, wasn’t it, Jungkook?’

Instead of looking put off, Jungkook’s date looks even more intrigued.

Junwoo, bemused, says, ‘Don’t worry about it. Should we get dessert?’

You split up with Jungkook after dinner when Junwoo suggests a nightcap at a bar nearby.

Jungkook assures you he’ll go straight home. 

Looking at the way he and his date are draped over each other, you don’t doubt it. Thankfully, your apartment building was built pre-war and the walls are decent quality.

Junwoo ushers you into the bar, and, alone together with him for the first time all night, you feel your self-consciousness return. 

You catch him looking at your thigh where your skirt’s ridden up and when he sees you’ve noticed, he smiles smoothly like it’s no big deal.

He orders another bottle of wine and you let him drink most of it because your tolerance is low.

His tendency towards pretentiousness is more pronounced when he’s tipsy, and it’s when he’s telling you about how you should try to experience genuine Lyonnaise cuisine that you decide you’ve had enough for now.

‘I should go,’ you say, smiling at him. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’

‘I’ll escort you home,’ he says. ‘It’s late.’

He pulls on his coat and offers his arm, and you take it because you’re three blocks away from home and you can walk it in under ten minutes.

When you reach your door, you turn and hold out your hand. 

‘Thanks again, Junwoo, it was really kind of you to walk me home.’

He takes your hand and shakes, but doesn’t let go.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ he asks.

‘Not tonight,’ you say firmly, trying to pull your hand away. 

‘I paid for dinner, and drinks,’ he points out, like that’s going to convince you.

‘You insisted,’ you counter. ‘Anyway, good night.’

He’s about to say something else but you don’t hear it because the lift dings and the doors slide open, and Jungkook steps out. 

His shirt is half undone, and there’s a big-ass hickey on his neck, but you’ve never been so glad to see him. 

‘Ah Jungkook,’ you say. ‘Did you have a good night?’

Jungkook pauses in front of you and Junwoo, eyeing the way your hands are still entwined.

‘Yeah, I did. How about you?’ he asks. 

‘We’re doing great, bro,’ Junwoo says.

‘Yeah?’ Jungkook asks, eyes on you. 

You swallow your pride. ‘Not great, JK.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees. He makes eye contact with Junwoo. ‘You should get going, bro.’

Junwoo’s hand tightens around yours. ‘Yeah, bro?’

Jungkook shrugs. ‘You know why she’s my court appointed guardian? I’m not going back to Cheonan.’

At the mention of the notorious maximum security prison, Junwoo’s eyebrows rise. 

He squeezes your hand again, hard, then lets you go.

Jungkook stares at him the whole way as he leaves.

As soon as the lift doors close behind Junwoo, you sigh and slump against your door. 

‘Thanks, Jungkook.’

‘No worries,’ Jungkook says. He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘Guess my date went better than yours, huh?’

‘I shouldn’t have let that asshole pay. I knew he’d take it as an invitation,’ you say, ruefully. 

Jungkook looks at you. ‘Is that what he said? What an asshole. Jangmi told me not to expect anything.’

You look pointedly at the hickey on his neck, and he laughs but doesn’t say anything else.

You fish your keys out of your bag. ‘Anyway, thanks. Your timing was pretty good.’

‘Yeah I waited in the car outside for you and saw you guys arrive,’ Jungkook says.

You stare at him. ‘What?’

‘Wanted to make sure you got home ok,’ Jungkook says, yawning.

He’s already heading to his own apartment.

‘Hey,’ you call. ‘I didn’t know you were in Cheonan.’

Jungkook laughs. ‘Youth detention centre, not the prison. Spent four months there when I was 14.’

He’s reached his own door. 

‘Good night, Y/N. You looked really pretty tonight.’

He smiles at you crookedly and goes inside.

***

Six months earlier

You have no idea why you’ve been summoned to Jeon Mido’s office, and waiting outside in her secretary’s workspace isn’t helping your nerves.

You’ve been working for Albion for two years, and in that time you’ve never met her. 

Why would you?

She’s one of the founding partners of Albion, the biggest law firm in the city, and you’re a relative newbie hired straight out of law school two years ago. 

You’ve never had cause to venture beyond the tenth floor of this Albion-owned building, and now you’re in the penthouse.

The doors open, and Jeon Mido steps out.

‘Ms L/N,’ she says. ‘Please, come in.’

You take a seat in front of her sleek modern desk and wait.

‘Park Sejun tells me you worked extremely hard on your last case,’ she says, gazing at you. There’s a shrewdness in her eyes that reminds you that she built this law firm from nothing, despite her soft demeanour.

‘Thank you,’ you say.

‘You did an excellent job.’

You thank her again, wondering where she’s going with this. Is she about to dismiss you? Surely Park Sejun could have done that for her.

You haven’t done anything to warrant a promotion.

‘I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,’ Jeon Mido says. 

She sets her hands on her desk gracefully. 

‘I heard what you said about the defendant on your last case. He has a record, he’s been in and out of trouble since he was a teenager. Our client was the plaintiff and you did enough to ensure the win but you didn’t go for the jugular like some of your colleagues would have.’

You get a sinking feeling. Is this why you’re being fired? Because you didn’t completely annihilate your opponent?

She seems to be waiting for a response, so you compose your thoughts.

‘I knew we had enough to win,’ you say carefully. ‘I didn’t want to waste my efforts completely destroying the defendant’s credibility when his only mistake was that he relied on his staff instead of verifying things for himself.’

‘That’s not what you said, though,’ she prompts.

You think frantically but can’t remember anything you said that would have stood out, particularly. 

You sigh. If you’re going to get fired, you might as well come clean.

‘My brother Jin got in trouble when we were teenagers,’ you say. ‘He got mixed up with a gang and he was too naive to get out before the gang leader got busted.’

You’ll spare her the details. ‘Anyway, he’s got a criminal record now, and because of it he can’t get a ‘respectable’ job. He couldn’t be a lawyer like me and he’d be a hell of a lot better, if I’m being honest.’

You shrug. ‘He made a mistake but he’s still the best person I know. I guess the defendant reminded me of him.’

Jeon Mido’s looking closely at you, but hasn’t said anything. 

‘Thank you for hiring me,’ you say. ‘If you want my resignation —-‘

‘You’re mistaken,’ Jeon Mido says, finally. ‘I don’t want to dismiss you. I wanted to ask for your help.’

Which was how you ended up in a coffee shop with Jeon Mido, waiting nervously to meet her son.

Jeon Jungkook.

She’d filled you in on the details. He was her younger son, and he’d been in and out of trouble with the law since his teenage years for various things. Fighting, stealing cars, and even, hilariously, once for posing as a valet at a high society event and parking all the cars at the foot of Mount Samo for the illegal drag racers to take their pick. 

After his most recent infraction she and her husband had sat down with Jungkook and given him an ultimatum to clean up his act or be cut off from his family’s fortune. 

You were to be an additional factor to tip the scales in his favour. 

Her proposition that you be Jungkook’s unofficial guardian and try to keep him out of trouble had sounded ludicrous at first, you were barely responsible enough to look after yourself. You certainly weren’t responsible enough to become a glorified babysitter to a grown man with a history of getting his own way. 

The only reason you hadn’t disagreed to this insane-sounding plan outright was that Jeon Mido had built the very building you worked in, from the ground up, off her own intelligence, strength and force of will, at a time when successful self-made women in South Korea were virtually unheard of. 

Additionally, Jungkook had agreed to meet you so he must be somewhat willing to comply with his parents’ ultimatum. 

You’d been expecting a degree of charm and good looks in her son, Jeon Mido was an attractive woman, but you still had to stop yourself from staring when Jeon Jungkook arrived.

Tall, broad-shouldered and built like an athlete, he’d smiled at you and offered his hand, and you’d shook it praying your own weren’t clammy with nervousness.

He was so good looking he made you want to throw up.

If this was what a life of crime made Jeon Jungkook look like, it certainly suited him.

He flicked his tongue out over his lip ring, dark eyes on you, and you wondered what that tongue would feel like on your skin.

Fuck. 

Fuck.

You were fucked from the moment you saw him, and it was only much later that you realised how bad the damage was.

It’d started off innocently enough. He’d moved into the apartment next to yours.

You’d hung out together a bit to get to know each other, and that first week had been fine.

Then he’d said, casually, one evening, that he was popping out for a cigarette, and he’d be back in fifteen minutes.

It was three frantic days before you found him, in some seedy pool hall, drunk and blazed with a new tattoo and the keys to a Maserati he didn’t own in his front jeans pocket.

He’d made you fish the keys out yourself, and he’d giggled like a schoolgirl the entire time.

After that, you’d been more insistent about sticking to the stipulations his parents had laid out, and had accompanied him everytime he left the apartment after dark.

You’d realised what a mistake that was when he offered to buy you brunch and paid all in unmarked bills out of a duffel bag filled with stacks of cash. 

Jeon Jungkook didn’t confine his criminal activity to night times.

Fuck that shit.

Then there was that time he’d offered to pick you up from work in a new car you’d assumed was his parents’. The penny had only dropped when the police sirens had sounded behind you and you’d asked, nervously, if he should pull over.

Jungkook had taken one look in the rearview mirror, and said, dismissively, ‘It’s only one patrol car. I can lose them, easily.’

He’d proceeded to do just that in a high-speed car chase in a stolen car that spanned the busiest road in the city.

It’s the first and only time you’ve been on the seven o’clock news. 

On the plus, you’d found out that he really was as good a driver as he’d claimed. 

You’d gone to see Jeon Mido in her office as soon as your legs stopped feeling like jelly, ready to apologise and say you weren’t able to do the job you’d agreed to do.

To your surprise, she’d just encouraged you to carry on.

For his part, Jungkook’s always treated you with an irreverent kind of tolerance. He’s annoying as hell and you’ve learned not to trust most of what he says, but for all his sexual innuendo around you, he’s never once crossed the line you’d drawn in the sand at the beginning. 

He’s danced along it a few times, though.

By the time you’re six months into your year-long arrangement, you’ve reached an uneasy stalemate with Jungkook. 

Sometimes, you almost like the guy. 

Annoyingly, he’s also stayed as hot as the day you met him.

***

Present day

You haven’t seen Jungkook in a few days, so you text him to check on him.

You’re already trying to remember how to get to the strip club you found him in the last time he went missing when he texts back. 

Jungkook: I’m dying

He’s fucked with you enough times that you’re not all that concerned yet.

Y/N: Yeah? How?

Jungkook: The plague

You consider this as you plate your lunch. You lift a forkful of greens to your lips, then hesitate, and sigh.

Five minutes later you’re knocking at his door. 

He answers so quickly you wonder if he was waiting on the other side of it.

He does look like hell, to be fair. 

His nose and eyes are red, and he looks pale under his golden tan. He’s wrapped up in a duvet from chin to feet. 

‘I’m dying,’ he tells you, melodramatic as fuck.

‘Do you have a cold.’

‘It’s way worse than a cold,’ he insists.

You shake your head, but he does look worse than you’ve ever seen him.

You sigh. ‘When did you last eat?’

Jungkook’s already looking at you so hopefully you haven’t the heart to say anything as you turn back around and let him into your apartment.

‘Try not to infect me,’ you tell him, as you lay a place setting in front of him at your kitchen island.

Jungkook replies, ‘I got my regular tests done last week, all negative.’

You look at him in disgust. ‘With your cold, asshole.’

He leers at you, but it lacks his usual panache.

You serve out the food and sit down opposite him to eat.

‘I always use condoms, anyway,’ he says, after a moment. He winks at you, but it’s still half-hearted. 

You pass him a glass of water.

‘Drop the sex pest act for a few minutes,’ you advise him, helpfully. ‘No one’s fucking anyone in the state you’re in, anyway.’ 

He looks at you, and you can almost see him clicking through the repertoire of innuendoes he has in his head.

Finally, he says, ‘Thanks for this. It’s delicious.’

You tilt your head, pretending to be confused. 

‘Did you just say something without sexual connotations, Jeon Jungkook?’

His smile is crooked.

‘Don’t worry, I’m still thinking sexual things about you in my head,’ he assures you.

You laugh. ‘Shut up and eat.’

***

Jungkook starts to look a bit less like death warmed over after he’s eaten, but the clingy asshole’s parked himself on your sofa and shows no sign of moving.

You shrug and put on the TV. At least if he’s with you, there’s less chance of him being in that strip club where there’s no parking outside. What a ballache that had been.

You put on the latest episode of your drama and he perks up. 

‘I haven’t seen this episode yet,’ he tells you. 

His duvet’s slipped lower, and you’ve yet to see anything but his skin.

‘Please tell me you’re dressed under there,’ you say, warningly. 

‘Yeah but I can take it all off,’ Jungkook offers.

You don’t dignify that with a response, just pass him some flu meds and a bottle of kombucha and settle in to watch the show.

After the episode ends he still shows no sign of moving, so you put on a movie and pass him some snacks.

By the time the movie ends it’s dark, and when he asks you what you want for dinner you let him order takeout for both of you.

You eat sitting alongside each other on the couch as the next movie plays.

After a while you realise he’s fallen asleep, and that this is the most male company you’ve had in a while, and that you don’t hate it.

You don’t hate him.

In fact, in the dim light from the TV and with his mouth closed and his hair rumpled over his relaxed sleeping face, he looks….. 

Tempting.

Like the boyfriend you could have if you could ever get over yourself enough to date someone seriously.

For some reason that makes you feel a little sad.

That you’re so starved for male company you’re longing after your neighbour who’s only hanging out with you because you’ve made an arrangement with his parents. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, he’d probably have never shown an interest in you otherwise.

You pull the duvet over his shoulder, switch off the TV and top up his water and meds before heading to bed.

***

The banging on your door startles you and your elbow jostles the glass on the edge of your kitchen counter. It drops to the floor and shatters, and you think dryly that it’s a metaphor for how close you are to the edge of killing Jeon fucking Jungkook.

You yank open the door with a scowl.

‘Yes, Jeon Jungkook?’ 

He looks a little edgy himself. ‘I want to show you something.’

‘Is it your dick?’ you ask, tiredly, letting him in.

‘Always, but it’s something different today.’

You glance at the clock. It’s six in the evening. 

‘Watch out,’ you say, as he passes the kitchen. ‘I dropped a glass.’

He doesn’t even blink. 

There’s a nervous energy about him today, he looks like he’s buzzing out of his skin.

You follow him warily to the window that overlooks the street behind your building.

‘Are we looking out for the police?’ you ask, in a dramatic whisper.

He gives you a half-smile. ‘There were two plainclothes cops staking out the place all of last week. I think they’re dealing out of apartment 4B.’

You stare at him. ‘Are you serious?’

He scoffs. ‘How do you not notice these things?’

‘I never really have to worry about the police coming for me,’ you say, straightfaced.

‘Sucks to be you,’ he says, without his usual conviction.

He reaches down towards his jeans and your scowl returns. ‘Jungkook, I really don’t want to see your dick.’

‘Stop lying,’ he says, but what he takes out is a small black rectangular plastic object.

It’s about the size of half of his outstretched palm. 

You wonder where he’s going with this. 

He says, ‘Look.’

You both watch as a man in a business suit pulls up to a parking spot on the street, gets out and locks his car. The headlights flash, twice.

He heads into the apartment building opposite yours.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Jungkook hands you the tiny black rectangle. 

‘Press the button.’

You press the small grey button, and to your surprise, the car headlights flash again.

The car’s unlocked.

‘What the—-‘ 

‘It’s a car key cloning device,’ Jungkook says. 

He takes it back from you.

‘All I have to do is press it at the same time as the person locking the car presses their own key, and it clones the signal.’

He says, with more than a hint of wistfulness, ‘I could steal any car on this street.’

You’re shaking your head. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘I made it,’ he tells you. ‘I didn’t invent the tech, my friend did, but I made this.’

His eyes meet yours. 

‘Can you keep it?’

His words hang in the air between you. 

He mistakes your silence for hesitance. 

‘I just — ‘

He clears his throat and starts again. There’s pleading in his voice, a wild kind of spark in his eyes.

‘Can you keep it? I don’t want it to be this easy to steal a car tonight.’

You swallow past the lump in your throat. He’s never asked for your help like this before.

He usually goes ahead with whatever impulse he has and you’re stuck playing catch up.

Today, he’s given you a head start.

You take the device from him and stick it in your bra.

‘Don’t try to seduce me to get it back,’ you warn.

He’s already eyeing up your tits. 

He clears his throat again. 

‘Actually, I’m surprised you managed to fit it in there. Are you on your period? Your tits look huge.’

As usual, you don’t deign to respond.

‘I was going to make dinner,’ you say. ‘Do you want some?’

‘You can cook me dinner,’ he agrees, like he’s doing you a favour. 

‘But wait. Let me clean up that glass first,’ he says.

‘It’s fine,’ you say. 

He stops you. ‘Nah. Look at your hands.’

You hold a hand out, palm up, and he traces a callused finger along your life line.

Warmth unfurls along your skin, following the path of his finger.

You look up to see him looking at you, heat in his eyes. 

Your heart pounds, slow, and his tongue flicks along his lower lip.

When he speaks, his voice has dropped, low.

‘You’ve probably never even changed the oil in your car,’ he says, but he sounds affectionate, almost.

‘I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.’

He smiles, and lets go of your hand. 

Your skin feels like it’s crackling with electricity from his touch, and god help you, you want more.

You don’t trust yourself to speak.

Jungkook says, very quietly, ‘You’re doing something for me, let me do this for you.’

Your eyes meet again, and you find your voice. 

‘The oven needs a clean, too, if you’re offering.’

He laughs, and just like that, whatever that moment was, ends.

‘I’ll clean your oven,’ he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.  ‘Put a bun in it too.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ you complain, trying to punch him, but he’s already too far away.

***

You’re balancing on the back of the couch on your tip toes, trying to reach the lamp shade so you can change the blown lightbulb in your hanging lights, when the now familiar banging starts on your door.

You turn too quickly, lose your balance and fall headlong onto the floor. 

The resulting crash against the parquet flooring is all the louder because Jungkook’s stopped banging on your door.

You roll onto your back, groaning a little as the wrist you held out to protect your face flares with pain.

Jungkook’s started banging again, and your phone, out of reach on the coffee table, starts ringing.

You can just about make out his name on the screen, and the ridiculous selfie he took of himself shirtless that he put in as his profile on your phone.

All the racket is enough to make you sit up and hobble to the door.

‘Shit, are you ok? I heard a crash,’ says Jungkook, wide-eyed.

‘I’m not good with blood,’ he warns, but he’s checking you over gently anyway.

‘What was so urgent you needed to bang on my door?’ you ask, grumpy.

He presses your sore wrist, gently, and you wince.

‘I got pizza and wanted to know if you wanted some,’ he says. He ushers you to your couch. 

‘I’m getting ice,’ he calls over his shoulder.

‘You could have texted to ask if I wanted pizza,’ you call after him.

He emerges with a bag of frozen peas you didn’t know you had.

‘But then I wouldn’t get to see your face,’ he protests. ‘Also, you never answer my video calls, not since I saw you in your underwear that time.’

You don’t bother correcting him. 

He wraps the peas in a towel and passes the bundle to you. 

‘Your wrist looks bad, you should get it checked out,’ he advises. 

You grimace. ‘I have a case coming up,’ you tell him.

‘Just tell them it was a sex injury,’ Jungkook suggests, helpfully. He offers you a hand to get up. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out.’

‘Fine,’ you say. ‘Grab the pizza.’

***

You’re waiting to see the doctor with Jungkook and trying to ignore the fact that he’s pulled a burner phone out of his back pocket.

He glances around furtively and you’re craning your neck to look at the screen when your name is called.

The doctor who’s said your name looks at Jungkook. 

‘Mr Jeon,’ she says. ‘What is it this time? Another broken metacarpal from fighting?’

Jungkook’s face creases into a smile and you can almost hear the adoring sighing of men and women around the room.

‘Dr Lim,’ he says. ‘You know I don’t break my hand anymore since I started winning all the time.’

You gag at his corniness, but Dr Lim just smiles back. 

‘Well, you’re always welcome to get checked out for any injuries,’ she says. ‘You have my number.’

‘Did you save it on your burner?’ you ask loudly, but they both ignore you.

By the time you’ve had an X-ray and been told your wrist is just sprained, not broken, you’ve heard enough of Jungkook’s smarmy flirting that your ears are burning.

‘Yeah, I’m still going to the gym every day,’ you mimic, flexing your bicep as you get into Jungkook’s car. ‘Want to feel?’

Jungkook rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t talk like that.’

You give him your sleaziest grin. ‘Wow you have your name embroidered on your white coat? Amazing!’

Jungkook starts the car. ‘Still don’t talk like that,’ he mutters.

‘Yeah, let me take you for a spin in my Skyline sometime,’ you say, puffing out your chest and deepening your voice.

‘Seatbelt,’ Jungkook says. 

When you reach for the seatbelt and wince because you forgot about your wrist, he sighs.

You press back into the seat, startled, as he leans over you to fasten your seatbelt for you.

He pauses with his face directly in front of yours. 

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek.

He leans forward and kisses you. 

It’s a peck, and over before you know it, but it’s enough to shut you up.

‘Stop being cute,’ he says. ‘Or I’ll kiss you again.’

He throws the car into gear.

‘Besides,’ he adds. ‘The only woman I’ve tried to impress with this car is you.’

You’re staring at him, still trying to process, when he adds, thoughtfully, ‘then again, I haven’t had this car very long….’

***

You’re trying to get your suitcase down from on top of your wardrobe when there’s a blur of movement in the periphery of your vision. 

You scream and hightail it off the ladder you’re on.

The spider you saw stops right above the corner of the ceiling where your suitcase is.

You’ve already dialled Jungkook without even thinking about it.

He answers with a lazy, drawled, ‘yo’, but his tone sharpens quickly when he hears your voice and panicked breathing.

‘Jungkook. There’s a spider holding my suitcase hostage,’ you whisper, dread in your voice.

‘Why are you whispering?’ Jungkook asks. You can hear the amusement in his voice, and for once you don’t care that he’s laughing at you.

You fight to regulate your volume. ‘It might hear me and attack,’ you say. 

It seems completely reasonable to you.

Jungkook laughs so loudly you have to hold the phone away from your ear. 

‘What does he want with your suitcase?’ Jungkook asks, when he’s re-composed himself enough to speak. 

He’s definitely laughing at you rather than with you, but you’ll take any amount of taunting if he deals with the spider for you. 

‘Please,’ you plead, ‘can you get rid of it.’

Jungkook yawns. ‘Ok. But don’t expect me to put on a shirt.’

A moment later he’s in your apartment, looking up at the ceiling at the spider.

‘Just grab the suitcase please,’ you say. ‘The spider can have this room from now on.’

Jungkook snorts. 

He grabs the suitcase and places it next to you, then, before you can work out what he’s going to do, he taps on the wall next to the spider and it runs down to the floor.

You scream and jump into his arms.

He really did come over bare-chested, the asshole, and the sweatpants he’s barely wearing are low on his hips, so it’s a little more indecent than you’d like, but there’s no fucking way you’re sharing the floor with a spider that can run faster than you.

Automatically, like he’s done this a lot, Jungkook’s big hand reaches down to support your ass. 

He’s still laughing. ‘Is this like, do you want to see my cat, but it’s a spider instead?’ 

You ignore his taunts and bury your face in his shoulder.

His laughter fades. 

‘Shit. Are you crying? Listen, don’t worry. I’ll get rid of it, ok?’

You’re too scared to look at the floor. 

‘You don’t even know where it is now,’ you sob.

‘I know exactly where that fucker is,’ Jungkook assures you. 

He’s probably lying but you don’t want to check for yourself.

He deposits you onto the bed and tries to peel your legs off his waist. 

‘As much as I want to fuck you, let me deal with this spider first, ok?’

At his words, you loosen your legs from around him and he pats your thigh. 

‘Stop crying. Stay here and I’ll get rid of it,’ he promises.

It’s several long minutes and muttered curses later before he returns, a little sweaty but with a glass of water for you.

He hands it to you and brushes your hair back from your face as you drink.

‘I didn’t know you were that scared of spiders,’ he says. His tone is gentler than you’ve ever heard it.

‘They bite,’ you say. 

‘They bite—-‘ Jungkook trails off, shaking his head.

Jungkook sits next to you on the bed. ‘I’m sorry I laughed at you.’

‘It’s ok,’ you say. You swipe at your tearstained face. ‘Did you get it?’

‘Promise I did,’ Jungkook says. ‘Cross my heart. That fucker isn’t bothering you again.’

‘Where did you put him?’ you ask. ‘In the bin?’

‘Nah. Chucked him out the window,’ Jungkook says. ‘Fuck Spiderman.’

‘Fuck Spiderman,’ you echo.

‘Listen, if you have a spider problem again just call me, ok? Or you can text if you’re worried the spider’s going to hear you. I’ll take care of it.’

Jungkook grins. ‘I won’t put a shirt on either.’

He leans back onto his forearms, and the way his abs stand out make you feel pretty tingly, you’re not going to lie.

‘I don’t mind you staring,�� he tells you. ‘I know I look good.’

You roll your eyes, but he’s been so decent about helping you that you’ll let him have that.

‘What’s the suitcase for, anyway?’ he asks.

You sigh. ‘It’s my annual family get together this Saturday,’ you tell him. ‘My entire extended family go to this beach house and we have dinner together and hang out. It’s been a thing since I was a kid.’

‘Sounds nice,’ he says, but his tone is incredulous.

‘It is nice,’ you say. You smile a little. ‘My grandma cooks and my brother Jin goes fishing and I have so many little cousins now.’

You get up. ‘Of course, there’s the usual round of relatives asking ‘why aren’t you settled down and having babies?’ And my cousin Binna’s a pain, but it’s only once a year.’

‘It’s too bad Junwoo was such an ass,’ you say. ‘I was hoping if I came with a date this year that it’d take some of the pressure off.’

‘I can help,’ Jungkook says.

‘For the last time, Jungkook,’ you say, ‘we are not having a baby together.’

‘Firstly,’ Jungkook says, ‘our baby would be so good looking. But that’s not what I meant.’

He looks tentative for the first time since you met him.

‘I can go with you, if you want.’

***

Your suitcase is by the door, ready to go.

You’re waiting for Jungkook to come by so you can leave together for your family retreat.

You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest. It had felt like a good idea having Jungkook come with you at the time. After all, with the amount of time you’ve spent together over the last few months, he knows recent you as well as anyone.

He’d promised on pain of death and dismemberment that he would refrain from excessive sexual innuendo in front of your elders, but that was all you’d managed to get out of him.

You’re almost afraid to look at him when he knocks on your door.

You start from his feet, in the boots he’s favoured lately, to jeans with no visible rips that you can see in the front, to his fly which is done completely up, to his belt and then a white wife-beater over which he’s layered a black shirt.

When you get to his face he’s smirking at you. 

‘Spent a long time checking out my dick,’ he comments.

‘Just checking your fly was done up,’ you say, semi-truthfully.

He lifts your suitcase for you.

At your expression he says, ‘Don’t worry, you can pay me back by giving me a blow job whilst I’m driving us to the coast.’

‘Sounds dangerous,’ you reply.

‘Jagiya,’ he says, smarmy, ‘Danger is my middle name.’

‘Don’t ever call me that again,’ you threaten.

‘Princess?’ he wonders.

‘Shut up and drive, Jeon Jungkook.’

***

Jungkook’s driving is so steady that you fall asleep and wake only when he stops for petrol.

You look around, disoriented, and see him looking at you through the glass of the rear passenger window.

He opens the door. ‘Want anything from the shop?’

You yawn. ‘No thanks.’

When he gets back in the car, you say, ‘Hey, let me know what I owe you for gas.’

He snorts as he drives out of the petrol station. ‘You know my family owns the biggest manufacturing company in Busan, right?’

You shrug. ‘Money ain’t everything.’

He nods. ‘Yeah, money ain’t everything, if you’re just normal rich. I’m fuck you and all your ancestors rich.’

You say, lightly, ‘I’m never paying my share of takeout again.’

He laughs. ‘That’s what I like about you. You don’t give a shit.’

‘That’s not true,’ you protest. ‘How many people would have chased you across town to track you down when you stole that French ambassador’s diplomatic car?’

He’s quiet. 

The road stretches out in front of you.

‘I’m seeing someone, you know,’ he says.

‘What?’ you scoff. ‘Who’s dating you?’

‘Not like that,’ he tells you. He glances at you in the rearview. 

‘I don’t want you to have to be a crutch for me forever.’

Now it’s your turn to be quiet. 

Since that time when Jungkook came over to hand over his key fob cloning device, he’s dropped various things over at your apartment for various periods of time.

A pen drive.

The keys to his Skyline.

His burner phone.

Once, a black jewelled thong, but you think he was just fucking with you that time.

You cleared a drawer in your hall table for him, and things appear and disappear.

He doesn’t always talk about it, not like that first time. 

‘I’m glad you’re working on it,’ you say, sincerely.

You lean back in your seat. ‘You know you can always drop stuff off in the drawer if you need to.’

‘Oh in the drawer?’ he says, feigning surprise. ‘What about your spare room wardrobe? I left weed and maybe a couple of stacks in there.’

‘Fucking hell,’ you grumble, ‘No wonder all my linens smell like a college dorm.’

You’re both smiling.

‘Thanks for helping me out with this,’ you say. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘How come you couldn’t get one of those Yonsei dipshits to take you?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Firstly, you asshole, I went to SNU.’

Jungkook snickers.

‘Secondly, sad as it is, you’re the only man I’ve spent any time with lately.’

‘That’s what I mean,’ he says. ‘You’re hot, you put up with a lot of shit and you have an ass that won’t quit. How come you’re not dating anyone?’

You look out the window. ‘You’re right, I’m such a catch, why am I single?’

Jungkook asks, ‘Are you really bad in bed?’

You’d laugh if the turn of conversation wasn’t so depressing.

‘Yeah. I’m really bad.’

‘I wouldn’t mind if you were a pillow princess with me,’ Jungkook says. You think he means it as a compliment.

You say, just to move the conversation on, ‘Did you bring any snacks?’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook says. He reaches into the center console and tosses you a pack of corn chips. ‘Please feed me too.’

You spend the rest of the drive placing corn chips into Jeon Jungkook’s filthy but admittedly beautiful mouth.

***

You and Jungkook are one of the first to arrive at the beach house. Your parents and Jin are already there. 

You’re worried Jungkook might be nervous about meeting your parents, but he surprises you again.

Once introduced, he chats easily with your dad about cars, and you can tell from your dad’s reactions that he likes Jungkook.

Jin nudges you as you follow your parents and Jungkook into the house.

‘Binna’s going to be all over him,’ he says.

Your cousin is beautiful, sexy and could flirt with a rock.

You shrug. ‘Don’t worry, Jinnie. You’re still the prettiest around.’

Jin says, crossly, ‘I wasn’t worried about that.’

You’re both distracted by the arrival of your cousin and her children.

The minivan pulls up almost to the entrance of the beach house, and your cousin Daeun jumps out.

‘Dasom superglued her hand to Jinah’s face,’ she announces grimly. 

She hands you baby Taehyun. ‘Can you watch the baby? I’m taking them to the drugstore to see if they can give us anything to get this shit off.’

‘Mama said a bad word,’ chants Dasom. 

‘I’ll drive you,’ volunteers Jin.

He ushers Daeun and the girls into his car. 

You look for someone to help.

‘Need a hand?’ Jungkook asks, popping up from behind you.

You huff. ‘Can you sort this car out?’

Jungkook appraises the minivan in silence for a moment.

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook replies, serious. ‘It probably won’t sell for much as it is. I’ll have to take it apart to sell it for parts.’

You glare at him. ‘I meant park it, Jungkook, not sell it on the stolen cars black market.’

Jungkook laughs incredulously. ‘Stolen cars black market? What even is that? Have you learnt nothing from the last year?’

Taehyun, in your arms, giggles along with Jungkook. 

You can’t believe you’re being ridiculed simultaneously by both a baby and the grown-ass man you’re babysitting.

Jungkook’s still chuckling to himself as he maneuvres the minivan expertly into the space beside his car.

You can see him through the window, the asshole.

***

Jin hadn’t been wrong about Binna being interested in Jungkook. To be fair, even happily married Daeun had given him a second look.

Even your conservative grandmother had looked past all his visible tattoos and piercings and declared him a good boy.

You’re pretending not to notice as Binna, sitting on the other side of Jungkook at the dinner table, leans into Jungkook’s arm as she reaches for the green beans.

Your Auntie Rina fixes you with a look. 

‘I’m so glad you finally found a man,’ she says. ‘We were so worried you’d be single forever.’

Beside you, Jungkook stiffens. 

‘I wasn’t worried,’ says your mother from opposite Jungkook. ‘Better no man than the wrong man.’

‘It’s true,’ sniffs Auntie Rina. ‘Who was that awful boyfriend of yours who kept asking if you really wanted more helpings? As though there’s anything wrong with your weight…’

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She isn’t saying anything she hasn’t said before, to be fair.

Jungkook, beside you, nudges his full glass of soju towards you. 

‘Is your car the 2019 model outside?’ he asks your aunt. ‘I know a man who can fix it for you.’

‘Fix it?’ Auntie Rina asks.

‘Yeah. Looks like it has a flat tire,’ Jungkook says, wide-eyed, all innocence. 

Your eyes meet his, and you choke back a laugh. 

As soon as the conversation moves on you turn to Jungkook. ‘Does it really have a flat tire?’ you ask, under your breath.

Jungkook leans so close his lips brush your ear, making your skin prickle. 

‘I’ll make sure it does,’ he promises. 

After dinner, you excuse yourself to get some air and find Jungkook sitting on the steps leading down to the sand, behind the house smoking a cigarette.

You sit next to him. 

‘Thank you,’ you tell him. ‘I hope this isn’t too awful.’

He just smiles, exhales. 

‘I’m enjoying it,’ he says simply.

There’s a breeze blowing in from the sea, ruffling his hair. 

He’s so pretty like this you’d take a picture if you weren’t worried he’d never let you hear the end of it.

Jungkook reaches out, curls a finger in a lock of your hair.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t get a chance to.

You lean forward, close your eyes and kiss him.

It’s short and it’s lovely. 

You start to pull away, but he cups the side of your face and kisses you back.

His lips are soft, and he kisses you slow, like he wants to learn the shape of your lips with his own.

He hums, deep in his chest, as his lips meet yours. 

For all the crass sexual comments he’s made to you over the last year, Jeon Jungkook’s kisses are undemanding, sweet.

When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

His cigarette glows on the step next to him, forgotten.

‘I knew I’d like kissing you,’ he tells you. 

You look down at his hand, somehow entwined with yours.

‘Are you holding my hand?’ you ask.

‘Yeah. You’re a little sweaty but I don’t mind,’ he tells you.

He laughs when you try to pull away. 

‘Do you want to come to my room?’ you ask.

He hesitates. 

‘I’d like to, but you know, I’m really good at fucking, are you going to be able to keep your voice down?’

‘Shut up, I’ve changed my mind,’ you say, getting up.

He tugs you back down. ‘Hey.’

He waits until you’re looking at him.

‘If you really want me there, I’d love to go to your room,’ he tells you.

For once, he sounds completely serious.

‘Yeah. Come.’

***

You’d been a bit worried it might be awkward, but true to form, Jungkook jumps into your bed and pats the covers like he’s the one inviting you into your own bed.

‘It’s my bed,’ you grumble, but he just laughs. 

He kisses you again, his mouth warm over yours. He tastes like the soju he’d been drinking, and he hums when you part your lips to taste more of him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, and when you run your hands over his shoulders he slips his shirt over his head. 

He stops you when your hands go to the hem of your top to do the same.

‘Can I?’ he asks.

You nod, and raise your arms to help.

‘Fuck,’ he murmurs. He’s staring at your breasts. ‘I’m going to need to cum on your tits as my last dying wish.’

‘Jeon Jungkook, shut the fuck up.’

‘Screaming my name already,’ he teases, but he starts kissing down the curve of your neck and the whine that falls from your lips is involuntary.

He hums approvingly as your arms tighten around his shoulders.

He dips his head between your breasts and then nips over the curve of your left breast.

He reaches around your back to unhook your bra, waits until you nod to undo it. 

‘Pretty,’ he says, then he’s sucking a hickey into your skin, laving with his tongue when you whine in protest.

He’s hard. You can feel him even through the layers of clothing as he grinds his hips on yours.

You tuck the tips of your fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tug. He kisses you again, then pushes up onto his knees on your bed.

He unbuttons, slips his jeans down, and holy fuck, it’s not like you haven’t seen him in his boxer briefs before, but it’s a whole different ball game when he’s looking down at you, heat in his eyes and his dick so hard your mouth waters at the sight of it.

No pun intended.

Jungkook pushes your hands away when they go to your own waistband.

 ‘Let me do it,’ he says. 

He tugs your jeans down over your ass and thighs.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes. ‘These silky panties look even better on you.’

You press a hand over his open mouth.

‘Shut up and fuck me,’ you say. 

You trail your hand over the length of him in his briefs, and then he’s moving fast, fumbling with his jeans.

He pulls out a strip of condoms and catches your eye.

You giggle at how ridiculous he looks, and a moment later, he’s laughing too.

‘How many times —‘

You’re cut off by his mouth on yours.

‘Many. I’ll fuck you as many times as you want,’ he tells you, breath hot on your cheek.

He nudges your thigh with his. ‘Spread.’

He fits himself between your legs and kisses you again. 

The blunt head of him nudges you, and you don’t realise you’re holding your breath until he’s in you all the way and you’re dizzy with pleasure.

He buries his head in your neck. 

‘Fuck. You feel so fucking good,’ he groans.

He moves, a slow stroke that makes you arch into him.

You moan his name, and he moves again, rocking his hips against yours, deep, hard.

You close your eyes but realise what a mistake that was when you open them again and see how beautiful Jeon Jungkook looks when he’s fucking you.

He hooks a forearm around your thighs and drags you to the edge of the bed so he can stand and fuck you.

Fuck, how have you never realised how strong he is?

He smirks at you, and you’d want to slap it off his face except he’s doing something with his hips now that’s making the pleasure spiral and you’re two short steps from —-

He lowers his mouth to yours again and then you’re coming, legs wrapped around his hips, his chest flattening yours, his sweat all over you. 

He murmurs what sounds like approval as he fucks you through it.

You gasp his name and he groans, fucking you harder, speeding up and then slowing until he comes, buried deep inside you.

He pulls out, yanks off the condom with a whine and ties it off, dropping it on the floor carelessly. He collapses down next to you, panting. 

For a moment you’re both quiet.

Then he says, ‘Shit. That was way better than jerking off with those panties I stole.’

You slap him on the chest. ‘Shut up, asshole.’

‘Stop flirting with me. I need a minute before we can go again.’

Jungkook grins at you but he’s still got an arm around your hips and his thigh slotted between yours so you can’t be too mad.

***

You wake up to bright sunshine right in your face even though you drew the drapes last night before you went to bed because Jeon Jungkook is halfway in your open window.

You sit up, confused as hell. 

‘What the fuck—‘

You can’t work out if he’s coming or going.

You get your answer then he drops into your room with a thud.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Forgot to slash those tires last night.’

‘You didn’t?!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ he advises. ‘We don’t want her to know it was me.’

You’re speechless.

‘Did you seriously just —‘

‘Don’t finish your question so I don’t have to answer it,’ Jungkook tells you.

He’s getting undressed again, kicking off his shoes, staring hard at your bare chest half covered by the duvet.

He jumps back into bed with you and you greet him with another kiss.

His hand trails over the curve of your breasts.

‘Let’s not talk about it again,’ you say.

‘Yeah,’ he agrees.

‘Do you want to come on my tits?’

Jungkook groans. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

You’re back at home in your apartment unpacking when the familiar banging on your door starts.

You yank the door open. ‘You literally just left, Jeon Jungkook,’ you complain, before you realise he’s not alone.

Jeon Mido, Jungkook’s mother and your boss, is standing outside your door and you’ve still got sand in your hair from fucking Jungkook on the beach before you left the beach house. 

Jungkook adjusts the collar of his shirt in a vain attempt to hide the hickey you gave him.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

Jeon Mido smiles graciously at you. 

‘Jungkook tells me he met your parents over the weekend,’ she says.

‘They liked him a lot,’ you tell her, wondering where she’s going with this.

She nods. ‘Good. I thought maybe you’d like to come to dinner with us tomorrow night. My husband would love to meet you.’

You’re so surprised you can’t do anything but accept.

Jeon Mido smiles at you and takes her leave.

You turn to Jungkook. ‘What was that?’

Jungkook shrugs, shaking sand out of his jeans pockets. 

‘She’s always said she wants to meet my girlfriends.’

He’s not looking at you directly, and the tips of his ears are red.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says, finally.  ‘I’ve never had a girl I’m dating meet my parents before.’

‘We’re not dating!’ 

He’s looking at you now. ‘Aren’t we?’

The way he’s looking at you gives you pause.

‘We see each other every day. We hang out at each others’ places. You help me with my problems and I help you with yours. I’ve met your family.’

He smiles. ‘And you’re the most fucking amazing girl I’ve ever met.’

You stare at him.

‘Unless,’ he continues, ‘you just want to be fuck buddies. I’m down with that too.’

He looks like he’s about to turn away so you grab his arm and tug him towards you. 

‘Ok, Jeon Jungkook, I’ll date you,’ you say.

He nods. ‘I thought so.’

He leans down so you can kiss the smug smirk off his face.

©hamsterclaw 2024

With thanks to bloviating-vy for introducing me to the phrase 'fuck you rich' and the works of Smashy for the immortal phrase 'Yonsei dipshits'.

[jiyascepter]

The Tattoo | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky x Fem!Tattoo Artist!Reader

Words: 3820

Summary: Bucky, the charismatic and wildly popular rock performer of America, asks for a tattoo from you in a rather..."unconventional" place 👀

Warnings/Content: Smut; Use of "Y/n", Lightly drunk Bucky & Steve, shy/nervous reader, cursing, mention of tattoo needles (no tattoo making scene!), cocky & teasy bucky, mention of getting tattoo on dick, bucky smokes a bit, bucky has piercings and tattoos on his body, semi-public, m!masturbation, handjob, blowjob, kissing, biting, licking, nipple licking (both male and female receiving!), acliteration, riding, praising, nicknames, begging, missionary, softdom vibes from bucky ;) lmk if i missed anything!

A/n: my first bucky fic!! i hope you all like it 𖹭 also there's a lil pun in the last line if u see it which i wanted to add for no reason || also thank you @buckys-wintersoldier & @vbecker10 for motivating my lazy ass to finish this fic, bucky is sending kisses your way <3

The hum of the tattoo machine had just died down as you began cleaning up your shop for the night, the last customer thanking you for the beautiful work you did on her arm.

The familiar scent of ink and disinfectant mingled in the air, grounding you after a long day of work.

The night was winding down, and you were just about ready to call it a day when you heard the sound of a powerful engine gliding down to the dirt road, roaring in the quiet of the small town nestled in the heart of South America, reminiscent of a Midwest American town but infused with a distinctive Latin flavour.

You walk over to your window, which was painted with bold texts of “TATTOO” in different fonts and colours all over, but there was still space to peek at what was happening outside.

The car's rich wine paint gleamed under the moonlight and came to a halt just outside the porch of your shop.

Dust swirled in its wake, kicked up from the gravel road, the familiar vintage Mustang came to a halt just outside the pavement of your shop.

The doors opened from both sides and silhouettes of two men momentarily outlined against the street lights as they got out of the car and you immediately recognized who they were.

James “Bucky” Barnes. The popular, deliciously sexy rockstar of America. Lead vocalist and sometimes drummer of his band.

For over a year he had been your regular customer, gotten about five tattoos on his amazing body from you, secretly away from the eyes of the paparazzi.

He used to drive from the city to your little tattoo shop settled in the small town, just to get a tattoo from you because of the popular reviews about your talented and clean tattoo skills.

Despite his fame and money, he wanted his tattoos from an “authentic” tattoo shop situated in the Midwest.

You had always had a crush on him, even before he became your customer, used to seeing him go all crazy on the stage.

And oh he looked so hot doing that.

He was with his friend and guitarist of the band, Steve Rogers today and your breathing hitched when you saw them both get out of the car just outside your shop.

You were used to him visiting usually during the early mornings, but it was the first time he drove in this late.

The sound of Bucky's laughter, mixed with the boisterous voice of his guitarist Steve Rogers, drifted through the shop's glass window.

They staggered, arms over each other’s shoulders as they giggled over what you could not figure, but it was something stupid for sure.

Were they…drunk?

Not wanting them to see you peeping at them like a nosy neighbour, you quickly pulled back from the window and pretended to be back to cleaning your equipment.

The faint chime of the customer bell was heard when they both entered, a light drunken grin on both of their faces.

“There’s my favourite tattoo maker.” Bucky spoke in a deep rumble that made your stomach roll.

You turned and looked at him with a smile on your face. “Mr. James! It’s been so long since you..last visited...” You cringed at how excited you sounded in the beginning.

“Yeah it’s been a whi…oh come here…” He slurred and pulled you in a hug, surprising you with it, your face meeting the hard muscles of his chest. You blushed a little and Steve grinned at the sight.

Maybe it was the drink, because you two had never hugged. You had always tried to maintain yourself in front of him enough to not let him know that you had a massive crush on him.

You try to calm yourself when he pulls away, hating how you were always nervous around him. You looked up at him, then Steve and said with a nervous chuckle, “Uhm…What are you two doing here at this hour anyway?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Oh, he needs a tattoo.” Steve says eagerly.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Sorry, Mr. James, I can't give you a tattoo when you're drunk.”

“I'm not drunk,” Bucky insisted and Steve agreed.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and gave him a sceptical look. “I can smell it right from your breath, Mr James.”

He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Y/n, please. I'm not drunk, and I need to do this." He put extra emphasis on the word "need," his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

Damn those blue eyes.

You sighed, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Al-Alright…but if you regret it tomorrow-”

“-he won’t, that's a promise. Besides, we’re still in our senses.” Steve says, patting Bucky’s back.

You smiled and agreed.

“Okay then, I’ll get going for a drink while he gets inked.” Steve says, asking the routes of the nearby local bar from you.

Once he left, you looked at Bucky and politely asked him to take a seat on the tattoo bench. “So, where are you planning to get the tattoo?”

He smirked and took a seat on the tattoo bench, taking off his dark leather jacket and keeping it aside. “I was thinking if you could give me a tattoo on my, well, let's just say it's a bit unconventional.”

You look at him sceptically, “where do yo-” it took a moment for you to realise what he was implying. When it clicked, your eyes widened, and a blush crept up your cheeks. "You mean…?"

“Yup,” he confirmed, enjoying your reaction. “On my cock.”

“It's a dare by Steve,” he added with a chuckle.

Ah, so that’s why Steve was so eager.

Oh god, you think. You had tattooed his inviting arms, irresistible abs, and even his thighs (only god knew the struggle you endured to control yourself that time), but you had never imagined giving him one on his most precious body part. Your heart hammered in your chest.

You had tattooed plenty of people in intimate areas before, but this was Bucky Barnes. THE Bucky Barnes. Your secret crush, the rockstar you had always fantasised about. And now he was standing in your shop, asking you to tattoo his most private area.

“I, uh, okay,” you managed to say, your voice shaking slightly. “But you’ll need to… you know, get it…hard.”

He grinned. “That will not be a problem, sweetheart,” he says in a flirty manner.

Ugh, why was he like this? If this man never flirted with you, acted like a stereotypical asshole celebrity, maybe you would have lost interest in him and would not have been stuttering and blushing for no reason. But he was always so sweet and so direct with his words.

“T-then you can lay down and get comfortable…I’ll…get the things ready…” you instructed, trying to sound like this was just another Thursday for you, and it was, but not when it’s HIM.

You turned your back to him, gathering your supplies and trying to calm your racing heart. You positioned your seat so you couldn’t see him while he worked himself up, but you could hear every little noise he made.

After a slight rustling of his clothing, the dark denim jeans– the creaking of the tattoo bench when he laid down, you knew the rock singer was absolutely naked behind you.

In no time you could hear his soft groans that sent shivers down your spine. You fought the urge to take a quick glimpse.

“No, no, no, this is so wrong,” you muttered to yourself. You try to busy yourself cleaning the needles, but the way he was making those sounds made it really hard to concentrate.

Bucky, leaned back on the tattoo bench, the cool air of the shop brushing against his skin as he worked himself up. He tried to imagine all the girls he’d ever fucked, but the setting was not quite adding up.

A playful smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you busy yourself with the supplies. His keen blue eyes took in every detail of your nervous movements, the way your hands trembled slightly as you gathered the ink and needles.

He could sense your flustered state, the barely contained excitement in your voice, and the way your cheeks had flushed a deep pink when you realised what he wanted.

He smirked to himself, he loved seeing you flustered, the way your voice hitched when you spoke to him. It was endearing.

As he lay there, waiting for himself to get fully hard, he couldn’t help but think about how much he enjoyed teasing you.

He loved the way your cheeks flushed when he called you sweetheart, the way your eyes darted away when he caught you staring at his body.

He had suspected for a while that you had a crush on him, and the thought had crossed his mind more than once: what would it be like if he made a move? Tonight, with the alcohol loosening his inhibitions, he decided to push the boundaries a little more.

“Y/n…?” His voice broke the chain of your sexy thoughts.

“Mhm…?” You responded, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Do you wanna take a look, sweetheart?” he teased.

Your face burned with embarrassment.

Did he figure you out? That you were thirsting over his undoubtedly beautiful co– now was not the time.

“N-no,” you stammered, heart hammering in your chest.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “No? But you gotta look to draw on me.”

“Oh so you’re- are you ready, Mr James?” You say, deeply breathing to calm your nerves.

“I think I am, yes.”

You turned around slowly, your eyes widening at the sight of him lying there, fully exposed below, just his shirt on. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you wore your silicone gloves and approached him with the rest of your supplies.

You tried to calm yourself. Maybe this would not be so tough if you didn’t think too much. You looked at his cock, your breathing hitched.

“Mr James…this…isn’t hard enough.” You say, cringing at your words.

He grins to himself. “Not hard enough huh?”

You nod shyly trying not to look at his cock again. “It needs to be fully erect…or the tattoo wouldn’t look good.”

He shifted a bit towards your side in his bench and said in a low tone, “How about you help me sweetheart?”

“H-help?” You reply, your voice trembling slightly.

Bucky’s eyes twinkled with perversity as he smirked at you. “I wouldn’t mind an…extra help.”

You shook your head, trying to resist the pull of his charm. “I really shouldn’t,” you insisted, but your resolve was weakening under his intense gaze.

Bucky leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. “Just a little assistance,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your skin, “from my sweet tattoo artist.”

You bit your lip, the temptation becoming too strong to resist. With a shaky breath, you nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Let’s get this over with, it’s…it’s getting late already…”

And with an unsteady hand you wrapped your hand around his needy member.

“Fuck,” Bucky hissed, nearly pushing his hips forward for you. You started stroking his semi-hard length, staring at it and then his face for the reaction. And oh, was he enjoying it. He was enjoying it too much.

“T-the gloves…” He almost whispered, gesturing to your silicone gloves you were wearing. “Take ‘em off…”

In no time you almost made it your goal to please him, taking off your gloves and gripping his cock tighter and brushing it up and down with your soft, bare hand.

You touched his red tip with your thumb, and noticed how it glistened with pre-cum at your touch.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” he whimpered, gripping the leather bench tightly with both of his hands. You looked at him and murmured with a shy grin, “I’m a tattoo artist, what did you expect?” He grinned at your answer, “such…skilled hands…baby, you’re a handful.”

You squeezed the base of his thick cock, and he let out the sexiest moan you must’ve heard from a man.

You watched as Bucky's face contorted with pleasure, your hand moving up and down his length, feeling the smooth, hot skin beneath your fingers.

Bucky’s voice ringed in your ears again, “Y/n,” he said low and husky, “take a lick, sweetheart.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your body responding to his request before your mind could catch up.

You leaned down, your breath warm against his skin, and flicked your tongue across his tip, tasting the salty pre-cum. His reaction was immediate, a sharp intake of breath followed by a deep, guttural moan.

“Fuck, I knew you wanted it,” he whispered, his hands clenching the edges of the leather cushion. You gripped the base of his cock, holding it while your other hand massaged his balls.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured. Encouraged by his response, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him deeper. He groaned louder, his hips bucking slightly as you sucked him, your hand still working his base.

Bucky's hand—adorned with several metal rings—found its way to your hair, gently guiding your movements as you bobbed your head up and down. "Just like that, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. "You like my cock, don’t you?"

“Mhm…” you hummed, releasing his cock from your mouth and putting it in again. You felt a surge of pride at his words, your arousal growing with each passing second.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper into your mouth, feeling him swell and harden further. His moans grew louder, more desperate, and you knew he was getting close.

Before he could finish, you cooed in your sweetest voice, “Mr. James, I need you inside me.”

Bucky's eyes darkened with lust at your whispered request, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. “Cutie wants that huh?”

Without waiting for a response, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue immediately delving into your mouth.

The kiss was hungry, passionate, his hands roaming your body with an urgency that made your head spin.

His hands surrounded your waist, grabbing hold of the hem of your top and lifted it up from your body and kissed you hungrily again. He discarded it carelessly, his hands immediately finding your breasts, kneading them through your bra.

“Aren’t you a sexy thing,” he growled against your lips, his fingers expertly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside. He pulled you closer and you lifted your knee up on the bench between his legs.

His mouth descended to your breasts, sucking and nibbling on your nipples, making you moan and arch your back, pressing yourself against him.

He swirled his tongue over and over your aching nipples, his hands working their way to pull off your jeans. Your hands grabbed hold of his shirt almost needily, lifting it off of him to reveal his sexy, tattooed body with abs as if daring you to take a lick.

“I need you, Mr Ja-” he kisses you again, shutting you up. “It’s Bucky for you.”

His words made your cheeks go red as you nodded.

He grinned at your flushed face, his big hands roaming to your back and down while his tongue found its place back on your nipples. His hands undo your jeans, pulling them down to reveal your panties.

He pulled away from your nipples and pulled both of your knees on the tattoo bench, holding your butt while he pressed kisses on your belly. He squeezed your bottom before pulling your panties off too, leaning down and placing a kiss on your mound.

“You wanna ride me, babygirl?” He asked breathlessly. You nodded almost greedily at the idea.

His hand slides gently around the back of your neck, his touch firm yet tender. With a subtle tug, he pulled you closer, and his lips met yours in a needy kiss.

He lifted you effortlessly onto the tattoo bench, positioning you so that you were straddling him. His cock was hard and ready, pressing insistently against your wet entrance.

You moaned as you felt him against you, your body aching with need.

“So needy aren’t you, baby?” He grinned, slowly sliding his member against your wet clit. “All wet and ready for me…I’m already leaking cum at the sight of you.”

“Bucky please…” You whimpered, not able to take the tension aching between your legs.

He smirked and licked his thumb (oh what a sight!) and softly grazed it against your nipples. His cold metal ring on the thumb only added to your pleasure. You softly gasped, the need building from the friction of his cock and this wasn’t helping at all.

He chuckled in a low voice, “you’re so cute,” looking at your reactions and how you tried to not melt on him then and there.

“Please,” you breathed, “I need your cock inside me.”

“Stop driving me crazy,” he says, biting his lower lip and sitting up to meet your face, his slicked member pressing against your bud.

He pressed kisses against your jaw, moving down to lick your neck and gave you a bite.

“You’re getting so shameless aren’t you?” He murmured against your skin, his tongue swirling over the spot on your delicate neck. “First you can’t even look at my face properly, and now you’re begging for my cock like a slut?”

You dived your finger in his dark hair, gripping it while he made you crazier with his lips and teeth on your neck.

“Fuck me.” You breathed.

He pulled away and licked his lips, looking at your face. “Poor baby,” he whispered and leaned against the tattoo bench comfortably, positioning himself against your entrance properly.

With a groan, he thrusted up into you, filling you completely in one swift motion. You cried out as he stretched you, the sensation overwhelming and intoxicating.

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside you, his hands moving to your waist to guide your movements.

"Ride me, baby," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want me."

You began to move, slowly at first, lifting yourself up and down on his cock, feeling the delicious friction as he filled you over and over again. His big and hard member stretched your insides while you moaned helplessly.

“Fuck– so hot,” he murmured with a little drunken grin on his face.

His hands gripped your hips, helping to guide your movements, urging you to go faster, harder. You obliged, your pace quickening, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure built inside you.

Bucky's hands slid up your back, pulling you down so your bodies were pressed tightly together. You moved down to lay against his hard chest, while his hand gripped your arms behind your back while he started jerking his hips with a smooth motion.

You licked his nipple, your tongue encircling his piercing and taking it between your teeth, pulling at it. Bucky’s face skewed into pleasure and surprise.

Surely he wasn’t expecting that move from someone as you.

“Damn– are you tryna eat me up today or somethin’?” He says, loving the sight of you.

You grinned against him and pressed kisses against his chest while he started to thrust into you faster. He kissed you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as he thrust up into you with a renewed intensity. The new angle sent jolts of pleasure through your body, your moans muffled by his kiss.

You could feel the pressure building inside you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.

You sit back on him, riding him out, getting him and his cock all wet in your fluids. He gripped your arms tighter, hitting the perfect spot inside you when he started to fuck you almost mercilessly.

Your walls clenched around him.

He picked you up, his cock still throbbing inside you while he got up from the tattoo bench and laid your back on it. The cool leather against your back sent shivers down your spine, contrasting with the heat radiating from your body.

His eyes, dark with lust, locked onto yours as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“God, you're so tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. Each thrust grew more powerful, more intense, as he pounded into you.

You couldn't take your eyes off his chest, mesmerised by the way his piercings shook with every movement, adding to the intoxicating sight.

His neck muscles stretched and tensed, enhancing the raw, primal allure of his powerful body moving against yours.

You could feel the tattoo bench creaking beneath you, but all you could focus on was the incredible sensation of him inside you, the way he seemed to fit perfectly.

"Bucky," you gasped, "I'm so close."

His response was a low, guttural growl. "Come for me, baby," he commanded, his hips snapping forward with a force that made stars dance behind your eyelids. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

His words pushed you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure.

Your walls tightened around him, and you could feel him throbbing inside you, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

You looked so pretty when you were drunk on him.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you one last time, his own climax hitting hard before he pulled out and released himself all over your pussy.

He rubbed his tip against your messy clit, the sensitivity of it making you moan and whimper.

You could feel the mix of your fluids dripping from you, while you panted and just laid on the tattoo bench trying to catch your breath.

He grinned at the sight of you, then began to pull his clothes back on, still watching you with a satisfied smirk as you tried to regain your strength and catch your breath.

Once dressed, he leaned down to your face, “I knew you’d be incredible, my sweet tattoo artist.” The nickname jolted you back to the reason he was here in the first place.

“Bucky, I–” He shushed you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

His eyes lingered on your exposed breasts as he smirked, “I’ll come again for the tattoo tomorrow,” he said, leaving the shop with a chime of the door, lighting up a cigarette.

┈➤ Bucky Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭 Thx for reading !

[lovebugism]

I need the next part to the costumer’s always right like yesterday. The roller coaster this story is sending me through is insane. :’)))))

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | family vacation

summary: the gang takes a brief break from the chaos of hawkins and spends a weekend at lake lemon. you and eddie find that it's difficult to be in love and babysit at the same time. (10k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love (road trip edition), newly established relationship, r's nickname is peach, eddie wants to kiss you but the kids think it's gross :(, the fluffiest chapter yet i dare say, steve in his babysitter era, the gangs all here! TW probable typos, very brief mentions of abusive relationships, briefer mentions of b*lly h*rgrove, talks of sexual/romantic insecurities

( PREVIOUS ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

It’s t-minus seven minutes until spring break, and you’re spending it with Steve The Hair Harrington.

The parking lot of Hawkins High is relatively empty, filled only with vacant cars and whipping wind that carries the scent of mowed grass and blue skies — the promise of a soon summer. Without your friends and other strangers to fill the quiet with their resounding laughter and booming voices, the strip of concrete is sleepy and silent.

You and Steve turn it all to velvet.

On the hood of his Beamer, you sit with your chins tilted to the sky. Puffy white clouds glide eastward against a blanket of sapphire, and the two of you try to make shapes out of them. Giving meaning to globs of disfigured marshmallows in the sky is a lost art, if you had anything to say about it.

“Aw, that one looks like a heart!” you awe, feeling like a child again as you point to the pretty cloud for Steve to see.

He doesn’t find as much joy in the mundane as you seem to. He only agreed to do it because you asked so nicely — “Wanna watch the clouds with me, Stevie?” you’d said, followed by a drawn-out “Please?” when he initially denied you. 

Besides, it was a pretty alright way to pass the time. Steve always said he lacked the organ that produced patience in other people; seven minutes tend to go by like seven hours for him. Especially when there’s nothing to do but make things out of a bunch of clouds that don’t look like anything to begin with. It’s like a test with no wrong answers that he’s failing somehow anyway.

The boy follows your finger and squints at the sky. “I don’t know. Looks sorta like a penis to me.”

“Steve!” you scold, shoving him with a halfhearted hand. Your brows pinch in horror like he’s just tainted your innocent fun.

His face twists in confusion. “What?”

“That’s obviously a heart.”

“No,” Steve insists like a bickering older sibling. Despite his initial lack of enthusiasm, he presses his shoulder into yours and points his own finger toward the vaguely shaped penis-heart cloud. “That’s the tip right there, see? And those are the balls,” he explains, somewhat crass, as he traces the rounded top of the heart you’d identified. 

He scoffs like he can’t believe you can’t see it. “I mean, seriously, Peach. You should see it more clearly than I do.”

“Why?” you challenge with a squint.

Steve only rolls his eyes in response. He knows where this is going. You’ll never pass up the chance to take the piss out of him.

“Because I’m a slut?” you continue, obviously joking, but with a perfected look of offense twisting your features. “Is that it, Steve Harrington? You think I’m a disgusting wh—”

“Alright! That’s enough.”

A giggle spills from your mouth at his scolding. As funny as it is to mock him, it always feels a little rewarding to know he doesn’t find it as amusing as you do — or the rest of Hawkins, for that matter.

He huffs, impatient and irritable. “God, you’re so annoying…”

“I know,” you lilt with a too sweet smile as you tilt your head to your shoulder. 

The fleeting thought that you can’t wait to annoy him on your weekend getaway passes the plane of your mind, and you remember to ask— “Wait, you packed your shit, right? ‘Cause we definitely aren’t going to make it to Lake Lemon before dark if we have to spend three hours helping you pack your hair products, Stevie.”

“Yes, I packed my shit. Mom.”

Your brows raise, not believing him. He’s rarely ever so responsible on the first go around. Not without a little push from someone — you mainly, Robin on occasion, and his parents whenever they care enough to check on him.

“So you have enough socks and underwear to last until Monday?”

“Yes.”

“And you brought the booze?”

“Yep,” he nods, popping the p. “The alcohol was the first thing I packed, actually.”

“And you have your toothbrush and deodorant and shower stuff?”

He opens his rosy mouth to answer in the affirmative but shuts it again, quickly like a fish. His brows furrow and his lips jut softly out as he thinks to himself. “…Shit,” he answers without really answering.

“At least that’s sorta stuff you can buy on the way there,” you tell him, giggling. “Won’t have to drive three hours back from Lake Lemon for your Farah Fawcett hairspray— ‘cause I absolutely know you would, so there’s no use in arguing with me.”

He doesn’t

Instead, he fiddles with the silver Zippo in his right hand and changes the subject. “Speaking of Lake Lemon,” he singsongs, his sheepish gaze flitting between the lighter and you. “It’s not, like, super weird that I invited Nancy, is it?”

Your brows furrow. An awkward giggle tumbles from your mouth. “No?”

“It’s just— you invited Max and her friends, and I figured Eddie was coming too because, you know, you’re…” His face screws up as he tries to think of the right word. You lean in closer to him, an anticipatory smile on your lips. “Canoodling or whatever. And I just didn’t want Nancy to be left out of the loop. That’s all.”

“And why would that be weird?”

“Well, because— I don’t know, okay? I just wasn’t sure if you guys have spoken since… everything.”

He says it like it was an armageddon or something similarly catastrophic that changed the course of the history of the world. Maybe not the world — just yours. His, too, in a way.

For a while, it ruined you. The thought of never being truly loved ate you alive and left hardly more than bones and strips of flesh in its wake. You found Billy after it spat you out, and god, you thought you were finally becoming whole again. Really, though, you were just holding onto the absence in your heart as though it were another life. 

Then everything from before just kept on ruining you.

But now you’ve got Eddie.

And Eddie kisses you even though you taste like heartache. Eddie makes you feel like your lips shouldn’t be anywhere except his mouth. Eddie is the golden sunlight that streams in through an open window, and you stand amid the flaxen streams — safe and warm and whole again.

Now, you exist in two places — where you stand now and wherever Eddie may be. You don’t belong to the past anymore. Tragedy isn’t your religion anymore. Instead, you pick your teeth with the shards of bone agony left behind and find new faith in the crooks of Eddie’s body.

The everything from before stops feeling so heavy. It’s still cold at times, but in the spring sort of way. Now you love so hard you could weep.

“That was a long time ago, Steve,” you assure him, smiling. He’s almost surprised by its sincerity. “We’ve all moved on since then. It’s not weird, okay? I promise.”

“Okay…” the boy wavers, nodding with a grin that doesn’t meet his eyes.

You wonder if he just doesn’t believe you. Or if he hasn’t entirely moved on.

The bell rings. It’s harsh and shrill, even from where the two of you sit across the parking lot. The muddled voices of a sea of teenagers come muffled at first before breaking into an all-out swell of a thousand incoherent conversations. Kids flood through the front doors in packs.

Steve’s kids, namely.

Dustin is the first of them. His voice is distinct as he migrates through the masses to where your car is parked next to Steve’s on the other side of the lot.

“This is gonna be the best spring break ever!” he shouts, smiling with a mouthful of braces.

It makes you smile, too. How could you not? This curly-headed boy is practically sunshine incarnate.

Steve, who’s gotten too used to the yelling to find it as cute as you do, only rolls his eyes in return. His sneaker-clad feet scuff against the concrete when he descends from the hood of his car. 

“Alright. Take it down a few notches, okay?” the boy grouses, waving his hands in front of him. “I’m not driving three hours to Lake Lemon with your hyper ass in the back the whole way.”

Dustin’s grin fades into an unimpressed deadpan when two of Steve’s fingers tap the blue brim of his Thinking Cap. 

“Well, I’m riding with Eddie, so...” the younger boy trails off, flashing his middle finger and a sugary sweet smile.

Steve’s brows pinch, almost in offense. “Wait— then, who’s all going with who?”

“Me, Lucas, and Max are going with Eddie and Peach. And Mike and El are riding with you and Robin.”

“Oh, great. I get the lovebirds,” Steve monotones, hands rising and falling at his sides in exasperation.

A deep, feminine, and familiar voice pierces the jumbled sounds of the forming crowd. “It’s better than suffering two hours in Eddie’s van,” Robin quips with a rouge-tinted smirk as she appears from the horde alongside the boy himself. The two walk side-by-side with duffle bags slung over their shoulders.

Eddie Munson fakes a pout and nudges the girl with a leather-clad shoulder. “Rude.”

A beam breaks out on your face at the sight of the boy, like sunshine to rain clouds. You hop down from Steve’s hood and rush to him without thinking. He nearly topples over at the force you launch yourself at him with. His arms wrap around you to keep you pressed against him. 

His laugh fans against your cheek. “Well, hello to you, too, sweetheart.”

Your nose nestles into his umber curls as you embrace him. He smells like cigarette smoke and floral hair detangler — familiar like a house you’ve lived in all your life.

“How’d it go?” you ask once you’ve pulled back from him. Not enough to let him go, of course, just enough to see the smile he looks at you with.

His grin widens and his chocolate eyes swim with a boyish excitement that makes your chest swell. “C plus, baby,” he singsongs lowly. “Ms. O’Donnell thinks if I can pass the final, I might actually graduate.”

“That’s amazing, Eds!” you beam, laughing in pure mirth as your hands reach for his glowing cheeks. “I’m so proud of you!”

You smack the most innocent of pecks upon his rosy mouth.

Robin groans from where she’s planted herself at Steve’s side. “God, I am so glad you graduated already. I could not suffer this for eight hours every day.”

You roll your eyes at her dramatics, then look back to Eddie with a quieter smile. “I’m so proud of you,” you repeat, just for him to hear.

He tilts his head to his shoulder, somehow both shy and smug at the same time. “Thanks, babe.”

The rest of the kids file out shortly after. Max comes first — the redheaded raincloud she always is — and Lucas follows later with Mike at his side. The former boy sports a bright green letterman jacket, while the latter wears an obviously unwashed Hellfire Club tee.

The seven of you crowd around Steve’s Beamer, anxious to leave the parking lot and the rest of Hawkins behind — even if it’s only for a few days. 

“Alright,” the oldest boy announces as he claps his hands together. “Everybody ready to go?”

“I have to drop by my place to get my bag,” you tell him.

He squints his honey eyes at you. “You were just bitching about me not packing, and you don’t even have your bag?”

“I have to drop my car off anyway, dork.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects with furrowed brows. The arm around your shoulder tightens. “Turn down the dirty talk, okay? There are kids present.” 

With pale arms crossed over her chest — always on the defensive, just in case — Max tucks a rogue piece of auburn hair behind her ear and turns to you. “My mom packed some of my stuff this morning,” she tells you and doesn’t explain anything further.

It’s not like she has to, anyway. 

Her sneakers sit by your door every night, and her jacket gets hung up with yours. Her spare clothes now sit in a folded-up pile by the couch, and you wash her laundry along with yours and Eddie’s. Your tiny apartment, which certainly wasn’t built for three bodies and a cat, has become more of a home to her than the one on Cherry Lane ever was.

No one else needs to know that, though.

“I’ll swing by and get it on the way,” you promise.

She nods with a tightlipped, barely there smile. You take it as a silent thank you.

When no one else comments about a missing bag or any other hiccup that might give Steve an aneurysm, Dustin grins. “Alright, gang,” he beams, clapping and rubbing his hands together. “Divide and conquer.”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Steve protests when everyone starts to split up.

Dustin, Max, and Lucas are already headed toward Eddie’s van. The former’s hand stills on the handle at his words. Robin, who’s already rounded the maroon Beamer for the passenger side, hears him but ducks into the seat anyway.

“Wheeler. Where’s your sister.”

“Uh, the newspaper… I think,” he answers with the practiced ambiguity of a teenage boy. He shrugs. “There’s some stuff she has to care of. She said she’d drive up when she got done.”

Steve huffs, feigning exasperation to cover his bleeding heart. “Why am I the only one ever ready for these things?”

“You’re not,” you tease with a laugh. “You forgot to pack, like, the most important shit a person is supposed to pack.”

“Yeah, well, no one asked you, Peach,” Steve squints in the place of any actual response.

“Wow. Great comeback, Harrington.”

“Bite me—”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie grumbles at the bickering. It’s harmless banter more than anything — a couple of venomous-sounding words coming from sincere smiles. The boy tightens his grip on you and leads you toward his van. “Stop flirting.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

It feels strange, being back on Cherry Lane.

You haven’t been here since the last code black a while ago. You never had a reason to be. You weren’t exactly looking for one, either. But now, here you are, standing on the doorstep of the guy who broke your heart and ringing his goddamn doorbell. 

A sickeningly familiar feeling knots the pit of your stomach. It’s like you’re walking back into the war he put you through, even though you’re still cleaning the bloodshed off your hands — just like you did every time you took him back, over and over and over again.

You’re grateful that it’s Max’s mom opening the door and not her brother. More so that she’s already got the duffle bag in hand, so you don’t have to come inside. 

The white of the canvas tote has gone brown with time. The pink strap of it is faded and missing a couple of sequins. The girl’s name is written on the front in hand-drawn block letters, doodled all over with the finesse of someone much younger than she is now.

“Hi,” you smile, just to be polite. It shakes at the edges.

Susan smiles back, tightlipped and pink-mouthed. “Hey,” she mutters kindly back as she steps onto the porch with you. The screen door clangs shut behind her. She tucks an amber strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand when a spring breeze rolls through.

She looks a lot like Max. Freckled face, strong jaw, pouted mouth. She’s pretty in the way her daughter is pretty, too — effortlessly so, without even trying to be. 

Even in baggy jeans and frizzy hair, something about Susan is still so beautiful. It’s not even the simple kind of beauty, either. It’s the kind that forces you to stand in wonder of it, unworthy but unable to look away. It’s the kind of beauty that seems almost sad — like a bright flame snuffed down to only embers.

You don’t need to question whose boot crushed her spirit.

“I think everything’s in here,” the mother explains as she hands the bag over. “I packed her a few extra clothes just in case— oh, and tell her that her Stuffy’s in there, too.”

“Stuffy?” you echo with furrowed brows and a curious smile.

“It’s a stuffed rabbit her dad got her when she was born. She’ll probably hate me for putting it in there, but I know she still sleeps with it sometimes, so…”

You realize, then, that so much of what you learn about Max hardly comes from the girl herself. She’s too closed off most of the time. If you really want to know her, you have to care enough to look. But even then, it takes a sort of X-ray vision.

You know when she’s fighting with Billy again, not because she ever tells you, but because she’s got a Kate Bush tape in her walkman. If it’s a particularly bad fight — the red and orange kind — you know it because Running Up That Hill is playing at full volume.

You can tell when she’s lying when she can’t look you in the eye. You can tell she’s happy when stars twinkle in the ocean blue of them. 

When she can’t stand physical affection, it’s because she’s had a particularly shitty day — but when she’s touching you, it means she’s excited about something or another.

You know her dad bought her the skateboard she rides like a baby blue Cadillac because she patches it up with duct tape instead of buying a new one. Their identical initials — M.M + M.M — are carved into the bottom, too, though faded with time.

And you always assumed she slept with a stuffed animal because she sleeps with her arms crossed like she’s used to holding something in them. You’ll often find her on your couch in the smallest hours of the morning, using Bowie as a replacement for a piece of her childhood.

God, you love learning new things about Max Mayfield.

Especially the things she’d rather die than tell you.

“Okay,” you nod with a terribly fought-back grin. “I’ll let her know.” 

“And you’ll be back on Monday, right?”

“Yeah. Probably sometime early. I’ll call you.”

Susan nods despite still looking a little apprehensive about the whole. She crosses her arms over her chest. Her manicured nails fidget against the oversized flannel she wears. 

“Can you ask her to come over when she gets back?” the mother wonders with a grimace like it’s much to ask. Her brows pinch and her anxiety-bitten mouth forms a tight line. “I know she probably won’t want to — and I don’t blame her, but…” she huffs and runs a hand through her hair, pushing back her bushy auburn bangs. “If you could maybe give her a little push, that’d be great.”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll try,” you promise with a wavering grin.

Both of you know that Max is too stubborn for any sort of push — the big or the small variety. You also know she’s too terrified of Cherry Lane to come back to it just yet. 

“And just, you know, look out for her while she’s gone, okay?”

“Of course.”

Susan scoffs, shaking her head at herself like she’s just stuck her foot in her mouth. “That was— That was stupid of me. You’ve been watching over her this whole time. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

You smile, more sincerely this time. A look of sympathy melts your features. You find the woman’s supposed blunder more beguiling than offensive.

“It’s fine. I get it.”

“I know you probably think I’m a terrible mom—”

“Not at all,” you argue, meeting her sheepish grin with a look stern in its kindness. “I think you’re a person in a situation that’s hard to get out of. I know... I know what that’s like.”

The both of you share smiles of understanding that only two people who’ve weathered similar circumstances can muster. The snuffed-out embers, deep black rainclouds, and the like.

“Remind her to call me when she gets there,” Susan pleas, tilting her head to her shoulder. “I know she’ll forget otherwise.”

“I’ll tell her,” you promise.

Because you do know that. Max often needs to be reminded of most things — not because she refuses to do them, but because her mind has a way of distracting her. Her consciousness seems to float every which way, making it much more difficult to focus. Sometimes you think she lives in her head more than in her own house. 

You wonder if that’s how her mom is surviving Cherry Lane and the Hargroves. 

God knows that’s how you did it.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie’s van is already parked in your apartment complex, right by the stairs that lead to your door.

It’s more strange for it not to be there these days. You expect it, in fact — in the same way you expect your house to feel like your house. It’s comforting because it’s familiar. When Eddie’s not there, it’s like something is out of place. Missing. And even though you can’t quite tell what, you can feel it. 

When Eddie’s not there, it’s not home.

He and the small group of kids he chauffeured fill your tiny apartment with their bustling bodies and animated conversation. It’s hardly more than muddled cross-talk, though. They all make comments over one another, each louder than the one that came before it, in attempts to be heard. 

It’s all muffled until you open the door. 

It practically slaps you in the face right after.

Max is cradling Bowie on the sofa. Just behind her, you can see Lucas and Dustin in the kitchen. They laugh over themselves at a joke you hadn’t heard. Eddie must’ve been the one to tell it because he’s got this proud grin on his face as he turns on his heel to meet you at the door.

“Make yourselves at home, I guess,” you singsong to him — like your full apartment doesn’t make your heart feel a thousand times fuller.

When you spend enough time shutting yourself out from the rest of the world, you forget what it’s like to be in it. Eddie’s reminding you all over again. Max, too. And all of their strange little friends you’re starting to learn more about.

“Sorry,” he apologizes not-so-sincerely. His umber curls bunch at his shoulder as he tilts his head and scrunches his nose. “Had to take a whiz.”

“I was just teasing,” you giggle.

You smack a kiss to his cheek and head to your bedroom for your bag, dropping Max’s at her feet along the way. “Dustin wants to know if he can have some snacks,” the redhead tells you as you walk by her.

“Shut up, Max!” the curly-haired boy calls from the kitchen.

“Of course,” you answer. “Take everything. I don’t care.”

Eddie laughs as he follows you down the hallway. “Do not say that, sweetheart. Because he will take everything.”

Two bags wait for you on the edge of your mattress — a rucksack complete with clothes and bathing suits and spare shoes at the bottom, and a tote full of toiletries. Neither is completely full, but you’ve checked them a million times to know they weren’t lacking anything, either. 

If there was anything you were, it was an efficient packer. 

Well, maybe slut first. Then human being second. And then maybe Eddie Spaghetti enthusiast third. But efficient packer was a close fourth.

You strap one bag over your shoulder and curl the other in the crook of your elbow. “Well, I don’t want him to be hungry. This drive is gonna be hell enough as it is. That’s exactly why I made us sandwiches, so make fun of me all you want—” Your absentminded rambles are halted when you spin on your heel and find Eddie’s mouth on yours.

His fingers grip the sides of your shoulders as he ducks down to kiss you. His rosy mouth engulfs your own and you freeze, shocked by the sudden affection. You melt into him a moment later with a sigh against his cupid’s bow. Eddie’s smile curls against your lips accordingly.

It’s certainly not a peck, but it’s not obscene enough to be described as anything more. It’s innocent and passionate, as most of his kisses tend to be. He uses them to say words he can’t voice out loud. — sort of like his ringed fingers do when they strum his guitar. Eddie kisses you like music.

Your eyes flutter slowly open when he pulls away from you. “What was that for?”

“Because I know I’m not gonna be able to kiss you for a while,” the boy grieves with a sad, crooked grin. His wide palms rub the sides of your arm up and down. “And I’m a little afraid I might die.”

“Well, we better make the last one count then, huh?” you tease, grinning as you curl your free arm around his waist.

The boy beams.

He kisses you breathless a second later.

After one last look through your apartment and several goodbye kisses to your begrudging cat, you lock up and head downstairs again. Steve pulls in, then, with one more passenger than he had before. 

El Hopper sits in his backseat. You’re almost sure she’s never been outside of Hawkins before, but you know for certain she’s never been without her dad.

Jim was less than willing to let her go. Cabin in the woods, no parental supervision, all alone with her boyfriend? It’s quite literally a recipe for disaster. But he trusted you to look after her just like you trusted him to check in on Bowie (though, according to him, the comparison wasn’t at all the same). 

You told him not to worry. That he should be more concerned about booking a flight to California and stopping Joyce from moving across the country. You told him he needs to convince her to stay before she’s in too deep to listen.

“…How the hell am I supposed to do that?” he’d groused across the table at Enzo’s.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You did it for me before. You could do it again.”

His iceberg resolve nearly melts. “Alright, don’t get cute. I already said El could go. You don’t have to keep trying to win me over.”

Steve gathers the now nine of you in the parking lot. You form a measly half-circle around him, neither of you particularly caring about his assured rant but allowing him to get it out of his system anyway. 

“Okay, every pay attention, alright? This is serious. I’m responsible for you little shits — if something happens to you, that’s on me. So, listen up—”

Eddie lingers just behind you, warm and reassuring. The leather-clad arms he’s crossed over his chest brush against your back when he leans closer to you. His breath fans against your jaw as he whispers in your ear. “All he needs is a fanny pack and some sandals. Then he’d be in real dad mode.”

“Eddie,” Steve scolds, unsmiling. “I’m talking to you.”

You swallow down your laughter.

“Dustin, Lucas, and Max — you’re riding with Eddie and Peach. Mike and El, you’re with me and Robin. And no canoodling in the backseat, understand? That’s an order.”

The raven-haired boy chuckles as the girl tucks her smile behind his arm. She embraces the lanky limb most ardently. “Canoodling?” Mike echoes in a scoff.

Steve, unimpressed and totally serious, only glares. “I swear to god, I’ll tell Hopper, alright? If you wanna make out, wait until we get there.” He points a stern finger in the boy’s direction, then turns his attention to the rest of the group. 

“We’re taking 870 to avoid city traffic which means it’s gonna take us a little longer to get there. There’s a rest stop at one of the exits, so we can fuel up and use the bathroom and get something to eat. So don’t ask when we’re stopping, ‘cause we’re not, Henderson.”

Dustin raises his middle finger in response.

“See?” you lilt quietly to Eddie. “This is why I brought sandwiches…”

The boy huffs. “Yeah. I probably should’ve listened to you when you said he’d be all… like this.”

“You know I’m never wrong,” you tease. 

A sly smile tugs at your lips. It takes everything in him not to kiss it.

“—And Eddie, drive the speed limit, okay? It’s not the Indy 300.”

“Indy 500, dingus,” Robin corrects. She leans coolly against his car, sneaker propped up against the backseat door as she picks at her chipping maroon-colored nails. 

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn’t divert his tirade. 

“If you get pulled over, it’ll just make the drive take longer, and we’ll miss the check-in time, alright? Peach paid half, so if she isn’t there on time, we don’t get the keys, and we’re living like bums in the woods for three days.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie singsongs, obviously insincere, as his arms wrap around your shoulders. He embraces you loosely at the neck and presses his cheek into your temple. “Get Peach there in one piece,” he reiterates. “I think I can do that.”

Steve huffs. His unsmiling honey eyes flit to you. He points to Eddie and talks to you like he isn’t standing behind you. “Keep him on a leash, alright? No way I’m going the whole weekend like this.”

“Ooh. A leash?” the wild-haired boy lilts with a mischievous grin. His lips brush your ear as he murmurs something only you can hear. “I like that sound of that.”

“I’m sure you do, perv,” you joke in response. Your elbow digs into his ribcage, jabbing him softly to part from him. He rubs at his side as you head towards his van. You call to the rest of the group on the way: “We should head out now before Steve loses his mind.”

Eddie’s shoes scuff the pavement as he follows behind you. “I, for one, would love to see that.”

“Good thing we have all weekend, then, huh?” Max deadpans with a playful glint in the blue of her eye.

“I heard that!”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The first half-hour of the drive goes by like nothing.

You’re a bit embarrassed to know you spent its entirety gazing so longingly at the boy in the driver’s seat. 

It was only supposed to be a glance — a small peek at his profile and his ringed fingers thrumming against the worn pleather of his steering wheel before turning away again and grinning to yourself like a schoolgirl at how cute he was. Now you’re nearly halfway-halfway into the drive, and you spent it all ogling.

You’re not sure what was so beguiling about Eddie nodding his head to The Cure or what was so attractive about his pale hands drumming to the beat and the way his metal rings glimmered beneath the setting sun. You only knew that you couldn’t look away from any of it.

“This is stranger than I thought…” he sings to himself, not exactly trying to sound great but not sounding bad either. You can only hear him if you watch his pink mouth croon each word. You do a terrible job of pretending not to be staring at him. “Six different ways inside my heart…”

Dustin pokes his head between the front seats so suddenly it makes you jolt. 

His round face conceals your view of Eddie as he sets his elbows beside the headrests.“Can I have one of those sandwiches you were talking about earlier?” he asks.

“We’ve only been driving for forty minutes!” Eddie laughs.

“I’m hungry,” the boy argues with his brows pinched together. “Sue me.”

“Of course, you can,” you lilt quietly as you reach for the clear Tupperware at your feet. 

You don’t miss the taunting look Dustin gives the boy next to him in return or the hand Eddie pushes against the younger boy’s cheek to force him backward.

You sit the container of napkin-wrapped sandwiches on your lap. You only packed two of each kind. All are labeled in scribbled sharpie. “Okay, I made PB&J, turkey and cheese, and cucumber and lemon—”

“Cucumber and lemon?” Eddie echoes, features flooded with horror. His wide-eyed gaze flits between you and the near-empty interstate ahead of him. “What the hell kinda monstrosity is that?”

“It’s cucumber, cream cheese, and lemon juice, and it’s actually very good, Eddie Munson.”

Dustin requests the peanut butter and jelly, Lucas takes the turkey, and Max wants the cucumber and lemon — the said monstrosity you made because you knew she liked them. You hand them their sandwiches, and they settle again in the back of the van — amid the plethora of blankets and pillows Eddie had tucked away.

You turn to the pretty boy in the driver’s seat. “Which one do you want, Eds?”

“Whatever you’re having,” he shrugs. “‘M not picky.”

He grimaces when you hand him your half of the cucumber and lemon — because, of course, you remembered to cut them into triangles.

You watch the boy take a rather begrudging bite of the sandwich. His cheek juts out as he chews through it, and you don’t know why it makes you smile, only that you’re beaming directly at him. His face is emotionless in that his features are filled with so much of it you can’t tell what he’s trying to express. 

There’s a slight furrow to his brows, a scrunch to his nose, and a glint to his eye. He manages to look disgusted, inquisitive, and pleased all at once.

Your smile widens when he takes another bite.

You fight the urge to tell him, ‘I told you so,’ and instead lean over the center console to smack a kiss to his cheek.

Lucas and Dustin gag through their mouthfuls simultaneously. 

They share a look after — a boyish glance of excitement, as though to say, ‘I can’t believe how in sync we are.’ It quickly turns into a game of who can make the most realistic retching noise, quieted by a single look from Max. It’s not a glare on her freckled face but a scrunched scowl of disgust as she slips the headphones of her walkman back on.

The two boys’ laughter fades all at once.

The van goes quiet again.

You shut your eyes and focus on the faint sound of Eddie’s humming. His hand is wide and warm when it settles on your knee. His thumb drums softly to the beat on the outside of your thigh.

We’re on the road to nowhere, come on inside—

The cerulean sky turns into varying shades of lilac and orange-gold. The highway to Lake Lemon is long and merciless. Two hours feel like two days when you’ve got nothing to do but sit. 

Eddie, with his hands and mind sufficiently occupied, seems to be less of a victim of the unrelenting pavement. He’s slumped against the ragged pleather seat, still humming to the low radio.

Lucas and Dustin spent several minutes arguing about who was taking which blanket and whose legs got to go where. Now, however, they snooze with their backs against the van and their shoulders pressing into each other’s — heads back, mouths open, eyes fluttered shut.

Max is a lot of the same. She sits across from the boys, tucked into the corner of the wall and the driver’s seat. There’s a pillow behind her back and a blanket thrown over her lap. Her eyes are shut, but you can tell she isn’t sleeping. Her head sways in time with the song spilling from her headphones.

And you, with your feet kicked up on the dash and your gaze pointed in the direction of the setting sun, are bored out of your mind.

Eddie squeezes your thigh. “I think we’re about fifteen miles away from the stop.”

“Fucking finally,” you huff. You rest your head against the seat to look over at the boy beside you. “My ass is killing me.”

“Well, I would be happy togive you a massage at the rest stop, babe.”

Your eyes widen as you shift to glance at the back of the van. You’re relieved to see none of the kids paying attention. You swat at Eddie while he winces at himself. It’s been quiet for so long; he forgot they were still back there.

“Sorry,” he whispers, to you and to the sleeping kids who hadn’t heard a word.

“I have a feeling I’m gonna have my hands full with you on this trip, Munson.”

“I could very easily turn that into a sex joke—”

“Eddie.”

“—But I won’t,” the boy concludes. His head tilts to look at you. “See? You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t think they would’ve heard, anyway. They’re totally knocked out.”

“That after-school nap is no joke, sweetheart. I mean, seriously, I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I graduate.”

“You can still nap, Eds,” you counter, giggling.

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

You concede with the shake of your head. “Sure.”

“Do you think I’ll miss high school when I’m gone? You know, as the graduated one?”

Your brows furrow. “You’re asking me if I think the freak of Hawkins High is gonna miss getting bullied five days out of the week?”

“But I won’t have Hellfire. And I’ll probably lose clients, too — ‘cause, you know, I won’t be able to deal at school like I usually do,” Eddie explains, growing suddenly somber about the whole thing. “I’ve been in school since I was five, you know? I’ve been going to Hawkins High for six years. And change is… gross.”

The whimsical existentialism of high school seniors makes you sigh in reminiscence. 

“You’ll be okay, Eddie Spaghetti,” you assure him, squeezing his hand on your thigh. “It isn’t so bad. I promise.”

“Do you miss high school at all?”

“Hell no,” you answer without thinking.

A laugh sputters from his mouth at the swiftness of your reply. “Not even a little bit?”

“A negative amount, actually.”

“I thought you liked school!” he argues.

“No one likes school.”

“You were good at it!”

“I was okay. And that’s only because I had this weird complex about getting good grades.”

High school for you, at its core, was all about approval. You weren’t sporty, so you had to be smart. You had to be noticed in some way so you weren’t suffocated by being invisible. Maybe if you had gotten therapy for all that before you turned fourteen, you wouldn’t be the way you are now.

“Do you think we would’ve dated? You know, if we knew each other back then?” Eddie asks you out of the blue. The faintest hint of a smile tugs at his pink lips. “Like… Would you have liked me?”

You grin softly to yourself as you think sincerely about his inquiry. 

You don’t think you would’ve felt too differently than you do now — head over heels with no hope in sight. But your heart was different back then, tender and unbroken. God, Eddie Munson would’ve been the best thing for you back then.

“Teenage me would’ve loved you. And you would’ve hated me.”

That makes him scoff. “No way.”

“You shouldn’t sound so sure, babe. I was a mess back then.”

“I would’ve liked you for the same reason I like you now.”

You shoot him an arched brow to egg him on, but he doesn’t move to explain any further. It leaves you wondering — why he would’ve liked you back then, why he likes you now. You don’t have an answer for either. 

You figure it doesn’t matter, anyway. Eddie Munson likes you, and you’re grateful beyond comprehension that you can say it with so much certainty. Never with anyone else have you been more sure of where you stand.

“I think you would’ve been good for me,” you confess, focusing on the pine trees that whip by instead of the boy beside you. Your fingers absentmindedly begin to fidget with his own, entwining and weaving with his without you ever noticing. “‘Cause you do this thing where you, like, understand me better than anyone ever has before.”

Eddie chuckles, then shrugs to humor you. “Yeah, we’re just soulmates. No big deal.”

“And I think I would’ve saved myself a world of heartbreak if I’d found you first instead of—”

You cut yourself off. 

Eddie turns to you, expecting to see you saddened by the sudden change of conversation. He’s surprised to find you smiling.

“Whoa,” you marvel with wide eyes. “I don’t know how we got there. Sorry, that got… way too deep.”

Eddie twists his wrists so he can hold your hand back. His metal rings press into the sides of your fingers as they intertwine with yours. He smiles briefly at you. The road takes too much of his attention to gaze at you the way he’d like to. 

“It’s okay. Let’s not think about any of that now, yeah? Let’s just have fun.”

You nod.

“I’d love to, but suffering through these conversations is making it real hard,” Max monotones from the backseat, eyes still shut.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” you joke.

“I’d love to, but being surrounded by lovebirds is, like, the least cozy thing ever.”

Lucas and Dustin snore a loud, synchronized snore in response. Lovebirds, indeed.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

There’s only one working sink at the gas station. It sputters cold water before hesitantly dripping the warmer kind. Robin jams the soap machine like an absolute maniac — and when she gets more strawberry-scented liquid than she bargained for, she smears some onto your palm. The two of you stand side-by-side, fingers occasionally bumping into the other’s as you wash your hands.

“How’s driving with Steve?” you ask her with a knowing grin. 

“The worst,” she answers with a groan, just as dramatically as you imagined she might. “He’s acting like a total dad, obviously. But he’s letting me man that radio, so that’s a plus.”

“Ah, so it’s less Bruce Springsteen and more The Runaways this time?”

Robin’s ocean eyes go wide at the reminder. The last trip where Steve was in charge of the radio, it took two weeks to get “Born in the U.S.A.” out of her head. She shivers at the memory. 

“Yes. Thank god,” she huffs and turns off the faucet. You pump the lever at the paper towel dispenser and hand a napkin over to her. “How’s driving with Eddie?”

The teasingly lilted name doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Why’d you say his name like that?” you giggle.

She squints. “You know exactly why.”

You do.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you shrug instead of telling her you’ve spent the entire drive staring at him. You still haven’t yet decided which is prettier — the pink and purple sunset or the way Eddie looks beneath it. “He’s not driving like a total maniac with the kids in the car, so… It’s not too bad.”

You open the door with your shoulder. 

“You haven’t heard from Billy, have you?” Robin asks as she walks out ahead of you.

Your eyes widen at the sound of the boy’s name. The realization that you’re not the only one who shudders at the mention of him is equally daunting. You look over your shoulder and towards Max’s stall, where she’d walked in a few minutes after the both of you. You shut the door behind you and wonder if she heard.

“No. I haven’t,” you answer, then plead. “And can we please not talk about him? Especially not in front of Max?”

“Well, tell that to Stevie because he won’t stop asking me?”

Your brows pinch. “Why?”

Robin makes a vague ‘I don’t know’ sound as she shrugs. She roams the snack aisle and eyes the vibrantly colored chip bags. “He probably doesn’t want to bother you about it. And also, he probably thinks you wouldn’t tell him if you did hear from him.”

“I wouldn’t,” you scoff.

“See,” Robin drawls with her head tilted to her shoulder. “That’s the problem!”

“Well, considering the last time I told Steve about Billy, he almost died, I think I’m doing him a favor.”

“…Touché.”

“I haven’t heard from him, okay? And I’m not going to because we’re gonna be three hours away from Hawkins all weekend.”

“Unless he’s stalking you,” Robin argues mindlessly. When her own words dawn on her, she gasps and looks at you with her features gaping in horror. “Oh, my god. What if he goes all Jason Voorhees and starts slaughtering us one by one—”

“Robin!” you shout, unsure of whether or not you should laugh.

“I’m just saying! That guy is crazy, okay? We should not put that maniac shit past him,” the girl agonizes. She walks a few short steps over to you and holds onto your arms with a grip most desperate. Her eyes are wide and pleading as she stares at you. You feel a bit like she’s looking into your soul. “Just please promise me you and Eddie won’t have sex while we’re on vacation.” 

Instead of telling her that most certainly won’t be a problem, you’re left surprised at her out-of-the-blue words. “What?”

“The couple having sex is always the first to die in the movies!” 

“Robin. I love you,” you remind her with your hands over her jacket-clad arms. “But you’re insane.”

She sighs with exasperation when you turn away from her. You hear her mutter under her breath behind you: “Looks like I’m gonna be the girl that gets killed ‘cause no one listened to her about the crazy serial killer dude…”

You get Eddie food at the connected McDonald’s, even though he told you he wasn’t hungry.

 “Those sandwiches are too good to waste, Peach,” he’d said right before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You think he just didn’t want you spending money on him when he was too busy getting gas to catch you. You do it anyway. ‘Cause you love him and everything.

“We talked about this!” Eddie grouses when you meet him at the pump. He taps the nozzle against the van a few times, getting every last drop he can before sticking it back into the stand. “I was really lookin’ forward to that PB&J, sweetheart.”

You smile before popping a fry into your mouth. “Want me to drive?”

“No. I’m good. Probably gonna sleep like a baby when we get there, though,” he tells you, half-joking as he stretches out his tired back. The bottom of his thrifted Stars Wars tee rises to reveal a sliver of his stomach. He catches you looking and grins. “And when I do, I expect to be held like one in compensation.”

You know he’s joking, but you nod anyway. The sack of burgers gets squished between your bodies when he takes you in his arms, palms wide along your waist. 

“Happily,” you grin, already leaning in for a kiss. The tip of his nose smushes against the side of yours when your lips meet. It’s longer than a peck. Softer than one too. He tastes sweet, like lemons.

You hear the kids coming back before you see them. Their chattering melds with the scuffs of their shoes. You and Eddie part from one another, thinking you might’ve gotten away with your fleeting touches before any of them could see. A chorus of groans tells you otherwise.

“See?” Eddie protests with his brows raised, hidden behind his curly bangs. “This is what I was talking about!”

You shake your head with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll be there soon, Eddie Spaghetti,” you promise. The “I’m gonna kiss you silly when we get there” goes unsaid. 

He hears it, though.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Soon, as it turns out, was actually another hour. It’s full of huffy teenagers, and ‘are we there yet?’s, and Eddie trying not to lose his sanity between it all. You do your best to keep his mind off of the never-ending highway, but hand-holding and mindless conversations only go so far. By hour three-and-a-half of the relentless drive, the trek was beginning to show on you too.

Lake Lemon was worth it, though. 

The view of sparkling water beneath a velvet purple sky made you forget about your aching back and the extra twenty minutes Eddie spent trying to find the place (and getting lost in the process). The cabin was a quaint two-story thing, wedged between lake and forest. It was old, which meant it was cheap, but it wasn’t any less beautiful. And, for a couple of kids who rarely get the chance to get out of Hawkins, it might as well be Heaven on Earth.

“This place is massive!” Dustin marvels.

It’s not that big, really. It’s certainly not bigger than the Harrington home — which you know he frequents from time to time. You think it may be just because of the wide-open kitchen connecting to the living room and the spiral staircase leading to the second floor.

“Alright,” Steve huffs from behind the group of you as he drops Max’s duffle with a low thud. No one volunteered him to get the bags, but he didn’t object to doing it either. “I think that’s all of ‘em. If you little shits make a mess when you unpack, you better clean up after yourselves. I’m not your maid.”

“Sorry, Stevie. I can’t hear you over this view,” Robin lilts from the other side of the house. She stands at the sliding glass door in the kitchen. Just outside of it is the lake. The water looks black in the night, shining beneath a set of twinkling stars.

“Can me and El take the bedroom upstairs?” Mike asks you, far nicer than he’d ever ask Steve. El hangs on his arm. You’ve got a feeling she’ll stay there all weekend.

He told you recently that he was trying to grow his hair out to look more like Eddie. Now you can’t look at him without smiling. He’s not nearly as intimidating as his structured features make him seem.

“Well, I don’t want Hopper to kill me, so there’s no way I’m giving you guys the master bedroom,” you laugh, tilting your head down to your shoulder. You meet the teenager’s identical pout with a shrug. “But if you wanna share one of the bunks, knock yourselves out. What I don’t know, I can’t tell Hop, so…”

“But shouldn’t the couples get the bigger bedrooms?” Mike argues.

Steve materializes behind your shoulder. “You kids are taking the bunks, alright? That’s final.”

Mike scowls. “You guys are no fun, you know that?”

“You’ll survive,” the older boy deadpans with the roll of his eyes. “Peach and Robin can take one room, Nance can take the other when she gets here. I’ll take the couch and…” Steve trails off and looks over at Eddie. He winces. “I think there might be a spare tent outside for you, Munson.”

Eddie scoffs out a laugh. “Dick…”

“Everyone say ‘thank you, Steve’s dad,” Robin singsongs as she walks back to the living room for her rucksack. Despite her obviously joking tone, everyone else choruses ‘thanks, Steve’s dad!’ in return as they scramble for their bags.

Steve huffs behind you. Sure, his dad put the downpayment on the place, but he didn’t need to be reminded of that. Besides, he paid for everything else.

You turn on your heel to face him, arms crossed over your chest as you smile up at him. “Thank you, Steve,” you lilt in the same too sweet tone as everyone else.

“You don’t have to think me,” the boy scoffs. “You paid for half.”

“Not nearly half.”

“Well, you made up for it by booking the cabin. You did all the work I was too lazy to do, so—”

“So call it even and stop flirting,” Eddie monotones as he slings your bags and his bag over his arm and shoulder.

You roll your eyes with a smile, canting your head to look over at the darker-haired boy. “Wanna go unpack?” you ask.

“If it’ll stop you and Harrington from making out, yeah.”

“Those jokes stopped being funny the first time you told them, Munson,” Steve grouses.

You walk to Eddie and take the hand dangling at his side. You trail behind him as he leads you up the wooden, unusually coiled staircase. 

“Is this what rich people do when they build houses?” he comments. “’Cause this feels really dumb and unnecessary.”

“I assume you know a lot about those things,” you joke drily.

“Rude.”

At the top of the stairs, and for the first time alone, you smack a kiss to his mouth.

There are four doors to choose from on the second story — one is the bathroom, the other a storage closet. 

Of the two bedrooms, you and Eddie pick the door at the very end of the carpeted hall on the right. It’s got a better view of the lake and is on the furthest side of the house — in that, it’s not just above the kids’ room. In that, maybe it’ll be quiet enough for the two of you to pretend that you’re just here by yourselves for a moment or two.

The walls are made of slatted wood, and the slanted ceiling is painted a deep green. There’s a stone fireplace and a dresser with a small television on one side of the room, and a balcony overlooking the lake to the other. It’s not huge but isn’t small either — the perfect size for a girl who loves being close to her boy and a boy who loves to let her. 

Neither of you bothers unpacking. You make a silent agreement to live out of your bags for the next couple of days to save the pain of having to pack all over again when it’s time to go. Rather than spend the next half hour hunching your aching packs to organize clothes into drawers, you spend it flopping into bed beside one another. 

Like muscle memory, you take the right side and Eddie takes the left. “It’s the side closest to the door, anyway,” he tells you. “And men always take that side. For some reason.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s to defend their wives in case someone breaks in,” you say, giggling.

“Well, that’s dumb. What if they come in from the window?”

“…I don’t know how you haven’t graduated yet, Eds. You’re a genius.”

Now, Eddie lies on his stomach with his face smushed into the pillow. Fatigue radiates from him like steam. You smooth a mindless hand up and down his back. Between dealing, going to school, and driving three hours across the state, you know he’s drained.

“What time is it?” he mumbles into the cushion.

You look over at the clock on the nightstand and then back at him. “Almost ten.”

“I’m so exhausted I think I could peel my skin off…”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “I don’t think that’s exhaustion, Eddie Spaghetti.”

His head perks up. His button eyes go wide and hopeful as he looks at you, almost shy. “Wanna hold me?” he murmurs, still half into the pillow in case you reject him and he has to hide again.

“I’m offended you’re even asking me that,” you scoff. “That answer’s always gonna be yes, Eddie Munson.”

You roll onto your back. Eddie squirms against the mattress until he’s close enough to lay his head on your chest. His curls tickle your neck and jaw. Your arms wrap around each other, holding one another like you haven’t spent several hours squished into a van together. 

The moments you should be tired of each other, your love just seems to get bigger. 

You don’t know if you’ve ever experienced that before, or if it’s the first time it’s ever happened in the history of the whole world. The butterflies in your stomach make both feel equally true.

“Did you have a good day?” Eddie mumbles into the t-shirt you’d just changed into. He’s obviously tired, but he doesn’t want to quit talking to you.

“The best,” you sigh, content and finally still. One hand curls into his hair. You scratch softly at his scalp. “And it’s gonna be even better tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. He doesn’t know if that’s totally true, but he’s found that’s a lot like what your relationship is like — perfect and getting better all the time. So he figures you must be right.

Silence settles within the four walls of the small bedroom. It feels soft like cotton candy, a blanket that’s been tossed over the both of you. You think you could stay like this all night — holding each other and never saying a word. 

Eddie, however, has never met a quiet he doesn’t want to break.

“…Wanna fool around?” he jokes out of the blue.

“With kids downstairs and Robin right next door?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”

“I’d be quiet,” he promises, leaning his chin on the swell of your breast to look at you.

“You don’t know how to be quiet, Munson. Besides, we shouldn’t fool around while we’re here anyway…”

The boy’s brows furrow at the teasing lilt in your tone. A smile curls at his lips. “…Why?”

“‘Cause Robin said those are the first people to die in scary movies.”

“She’s not wrong,” Eddie offers with a laugh. “I mean, she’s crazy, but she’s right.”

You sigh, smiling. “That’s Robin Buckley for you… She’s a total dork.” 

“Guess that’s why you guys get along so well, then, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie singsongs, too cute for his own good. “I just think everyone made a mistake calling you the slut of Hawkins, you know? Like calling me the freak is spot on, but you? You’re totally the dork.”

You snort. “Right…”

“Peach, The Cute,” Eddie lilts like he’s testing it on for size.

“Yeah? Is that what my name would be in your game?”

“Peach, The Adorable,” he continues. “Peach, The Precious, even.”

“Munson, The Annoying,” you croon in the same tone he’d used, though obviously joking and obviously not doing the best job as him. “Eddie, The Guy That’s About To Sleep Outside Tonight.”

Eddie beams. “See? You just proved my point. You’re too adorable for your own good, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” you hum as he moves off your chest and onto the pillow you’re lying on.

He props his head on his arm and nods. “So cute it makes my chest hurt a little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize with a soft grin that says otherwise.

“’S okay,” he assures with a softer smile and a twinkle in the chocolate of his eye. His hand rises and toys with the fraying hem of your shirt. “Do you remember what we were talking about in the van earlier? About, like… knowing each other in high school?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’m really glad we weren’t friends back then.”

Your heart wants to break, but you don’t let it. You don’t know what this boy is going to tell you next, but you’ve got a feeling it’s going to kill you and bring you back to life again. “Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t think you would’ve let me get to know you. Like, know you, know you.” 

Not the way everyone else knows you, he wants to say.

“That’s not true,” you reject just because you feel like you should. Both of you know he’s right.

To put it simply, you would’ve loved to fuck Eddie Munson back in high school. Back then, he was just the weirdo who sold the cheapest weed — not the sweetheart you’ve gotten to know him as now. And the two of you would’ve had sex, and it would’ve been fine, but it wouldn’t have meant anything to either of you. 

Sex is just sex until you decide to give it meaning.

And for you — and for a really, really long time — it didn’t mean shit. It was just a dumb way to pass the time when you ran out of words to say. A cheap way to get the validation you’d really been looking for the whole time. Intimacy stopped meaning something because no one touched you the way Eddie touched you.

He makes you feel held. Wanted. Loved. 

You didn’t know either of those things existed when you were seventeen.

But you’ve found them now, in your old dealer who used to give you free weed for helping him study. You’re glad you meant him when you did — after heartache chewed you up and spat you out, left you soaking wet and shivering.

Eddie came to you like a warm blanket and a home-cooked meal. You wouldn’t have been able to appreciate him before now.

“Well, thanks for letting me know you anyway, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a lopsided smile.

Something about it is so strangely tender. More intimate than a thousand I love you’s.

You smile. “Thanks for letting me know you, too, Eddie Spaghetti.”

[andieperrie18]

nobody's daughters (part 1)

Series: Blue Eye Samurai

Pairing: Mizu x Widowed! Reader

Word Count: 1,900+ Words

Warnings: SPOILERS on Episode 5

Chapter Synopsis: Passing by the bridge where the local prostitutes flock, you encounter a wounded man. Or so you thought.

A/N & Disclaimer: So this chapter took a while to come out but here it is. Didn't want to rush this chapter. Considering the timeline, Mizu isn't fully heartless here as this was a period where she had just left Master Eiji. Please note that English isn't my first language and my Grammar isn't any good either so I do hope you enjoy this first opening chapter

Parts: ONE // TWO // THREE // MASTERLIST

“Another good trade, Sen,” you smiled as you held the reins of the white horse as it shifted from a walk to a trot through the dirt road on her way home. You are no great merchant and don't even have that many customers to supply, but ones that you’ve gained have become loyal customers as you.

You leaned down and as your palm glided on the neck of the mare who sighed and leaned to the touch, as you gave a small chuckle at its response. Sitting back your eyes raised to the tree covered skies, rays of sunlight peeked through each space that tenderly kissed your face. 

‘It was a vibrant day’ you thought while you continued to tread home, passing by the red bridge where you would usually find a group of prostitutes where they would flock by. They weren't really kind to you despite your consistent kind greetings everytime you passed by them, it only earned you gossip about your widowed and childless life. A part of your life that you've come to terms after a chapter vengeance finally asks due.

“Have a bountiful day of business ladies,” you bow as you reach the end of the bridge despite just like usual, none of them really replied back but a few hums.

As you’re enter another pathway, your eyes caught a glimpse of a limping figure. Your eyes squinted to get a better look of the person. Gently kicking the horse to trot faster as you gained a clearer view of the injured victim.

“Oh dear,” you whispered, jumping off the mare and jogging to the man clad in blue dragging himself, his hand gripping their bleeding side, red seeping through cloth and skin.

“H-Help me…” he gasped as you managed to catch the wounded man as he collapsed in your arms

( -+-+-+-+-)

You and your patient arrived fairly quick on a long stretch of land that was filled with a vast plantation growing fruits and vegetables in their respective sections, and at the center it was a one story house with bamboo fences surrounding it. The white mare staggered to a stop by the front of the house as an elderly couple rushed out of it and towards you with worried expressions after calling to them for a number times.

“My lady, what’s happened?” the elderly female asked, as you hopped of Sen and effortlessly pulled your patient with the elderly male offering support on the other side.

“Please prepare my quarters for me Tanaka and Midori bring my medical materials, I’ll take our poor guest to his room,” you nodded to the man made who help you carried the man before turning to the woman whom both could only nod before dashing in different directions leaving you to following the elderly male to the inside the your house then to a path towards sliding door that revealed a spacious room. 

The old man rushed to set your futon as you carefully layed the unconscious man to it all as Tanaka helps you set him properly to a better position to be operated. You told the old man to fetch his wife as he hurriedly flees off as you immediately began to work on the man’s kimono as swiftly as she could. Undoning the know of the tie at front, you grasped the end of the cloth but you halt upon slightly lifting it.

Tanaka reappears by the doorway with a box followed by his wife who carried a basin of water, the couple speed towards you as they placed the things you needed. Midori set aside the basin and began to help her husband open the box filled but stop them

“Tanaka, Midori,” 

The couple halts as you turned to them with small smile, “I’ll take things from here, why don’t you both proceed with preparing our meal for the afternoon,” you trailed as you raised to your feet and grasped the raspy hands of the couple and gently pulled them to their feed, leading them away from the man urgently. The couple looked at each other confused and looked back at you.

“Are you certain my lady?” said the old woman, “wouldn’t it be better if we are here to assist you?” supported by the elderly male. You simply shook your head with a smile as you all stopped by the entry way.

“I can manage, what I want you to do is prepare a meal for our patient, we must have regain full strength,” you encouraged as the couple looked at each other skeptically but nodded and turned away, watching them sprinting through halls towards the kitchens as you slid the door closed and rushed back to your patient.

You eyed the unconscious woman on your futon as she helplessly heaved difficult breathes unconsciously, not trying to waste any more time, you finally proceeded to remove her top to reveal her tightly bandaged chest and her continuously bleeding wound on the side of her stomach. You heard a clatter of metal as you had fully exposed her chest, finding a sheathed blade that was tied around to her side. Taking the blade and gently setting it aside, your hands swiftly rustled inside the medical kit pulling various ointments, cotton balls, thread, and needles bandages before tending the wound on the unconscious swordswoman that laid before you.

Mizu flinched half-awake as the pain of the needle entered her skin. Her blurry vision showed a her a wooden roof and a woman who was leaning over her stomach, her hands busy and gentle that did a little soothing with every tug and sew motion. The woman did notice her stares at her as Mizu tried her best to mutter something only stop to due to her weakened state from blood loss. With every pull of the needled with the thread, you see her flinch, an action you could clearly tell that this was her first time to be sew up closed. Confirming the notion in your mind.

“A Life of Vengeance huh, let me guess it didn't really start off great didn’t it?” you scoffed while you began tying knots on the sutures securing them close, not even thinking of looking at the awakened patient. Mizu groaned once more from the tugs through her skin.

“Got a name? Little avenger?” you asked as you finally turned to look Mizu who was in turn looking at you.

Despite being half-lidded, the unusual yet bright hue of Mizu’s eyes never missed you sight before she finally collapsed back to slumber. It left you staring at her for a minute as You can clearly have described it as the color sky in a bright and sunny day but the exhausted yet hardened expression on your patient showed how life hasn't been kind to her, and hues just symbolized ice and lightning.

With those kind of eyes one thing was certain, “I guess life hasn’t been kind to you,” your brows furrowed slightly as your eyes stared at Mizu’s pained expression despite being under consciousness.

(-+-+-+-+-)

Mizu woke up to a sunlit room the following day, the warm ray light coming from an open veranda that overlooked a small zen garden with a small pond by a white wall and rather curiously, a person seated over her close folded legs facing straight head with a straight back with both hands neatly placed on their lap. 

With a quieted groan, Mizu strugglingly forced herself to sit up as her vision clears and get a better focus on the person’s back facing her way. Studying said person, she had easily distinguished that it was in fact a woman, although she could still slightly see small buffs over their shoulder that would have confused if she had not gained yet a better sight.

“Excu-”, “Ah, you're awake! Thank goodness,” Mizu turned to another direction to find another sliding door, entered an old woman, dressed in the simplest kimono with a rather large tray and was now making her way towards her position.

“Madame was right on what time of day you’ll wake,” trailed the lady as she got Mizu’s side and gently placed the tray down beside the futon. The blue-eyed femme watched as gently moved while muttering a few winces of pain as she turned to face the lady then to the tray filled with covered plates that she could clearly assume would be food.

“Please eat, these are all freshly cooked and picked from the madam’s garden, she insisted on picking the ingredients herself that will help you gain back strength, help yourself,” she continued, smiling at the Mizu.

The expression had the blue-eyed woman feel a certain churn in her stomach but Mizu could tell that this woman was clearly genuine with her gesture. Not wanting to stare at her too much, her blue eyes returned to the somewhat meditating woman by the open entry way across her. Still hadn’t shown any movement even after the sudden arrival of the old lady who had immediately picked up the spark of curiosity from Mizu who stared at the  her serenely occupied matriarch.

“It best not disturbed the madame, but not to worry though, she’ll entertain you as soon as she finishes with her meditation, I’m Midori, the caretaker of the Kento household,” the old lady who had introduced herself as Midori bowed slightly all while Mizu could only mutter “I’m grateful for your assistance,” with a slight bow as she cannot exactly exude a big one with the constant twinges of pain on her side where she presumes the stab wound would be.

“Please help yourself, feel free to come out of this room but sadly milady insisted that you not be free yet without fully healing and recovering your strength, I hope you understand and please take a long rest,” the lady stood and bowed her head in gesture of her leaving Mizu alone in your unconscious company.

Mizu’s gaze went back to you and the frame of your shoulders and back that would gradually slow down yet constantly heaving bigger breaths and longer releases in every passing minute. 

But other than her company, the ambiance around her felt warm and serene, one that she wasn’t really accustomed to as her childhood was too focused on the tasks she had at hand without any regard to things too much. It was all she knew.

Her attention went back to the tray of food and went about uncovering each plate on the tray. In all of Mizu’s  life, she never really had a big meal, just decent ones that she had while she was under apprenticeship that she wasn’t to complain as she was content with having a roof over her head and decent meal under the care of the swordsmith.

 A sigh left her lips as her heart swelled with every plate of cousin composing her  large meal. She marveled at how almost each bowl was a brim full of nutrients. Mizu never really knew much difference between a meal made by a chef and homemade, but it was enough that each meal exploded with rich aroma and delicious scents that she had never thought she would never get a taste of  in her whole life.

Adjusting herself to sit properly within the futon, she placed her hands together.

“Thank you for the food.” 

Her hand found the chopstick and ate to her heart's content.

[lifeofpriya]

Boyfriend of the Year - Jack Draper imagine

[gif credit goes to @fritzes]

author's note: hellooooo! i wanted to try my hand at writing something for a tennis beloved and well, here we are! quick shoutout to @2manytabsopen for introducing me to this adorable dork and yeah, i hope y'all enjoy this as much i enjoyed writing this fic 🫶🏼

summary: a tough day from work leads to a night of love and spoiling...

As soon as you sat down on the bench at the nearest bus stop near your workplace, the dam of the tears held back all day burst open. The cool evening breeze brushed against your damp cheeks, bringing a shiver as your shoulders convulsed in silent sobs. The day had been particularly harsh, leaving you drained and defeated. The café where you worked had been busier than usual, with a never-ending stream of customers and a broken espresso machine that seemed to have a vendetta against you. Your boss had been in one of her moods, barking orders and expecting perfection as if you were a robot, not a human being with feelings. The weight of your world felt unbearable in the quiet solitude of the evening.

Jack's call had come like a beacon of light in the storm. "Hey, love," he said, his voice a warm embrace over the phone. “Wait, why are you crying, sweetheart?"

You tried to hold it together, but the words tumbled out in a jumbled mess. "It's… it's been such a day, Jack. The machine broke down, and the customers were just… unrelenting. And Regina, she was…" You didn't need to say more; Jack knew Regina's reputation for making the sunniest days feel like a downpour.

Jack's voice grew firm but gentle. "I'm on my way. Stay put. I'll be there soon." He hung up, and you felt a glimmer of hope in the pit of your stomach. You leaned your head against the cool glass of the bus shelter, watching the world blur by in streaks of light and shadow as cars passed by. The scent of freshly cut grass from a nearby lawn wafted over, mingling with the faint aroma of someone's takeout. The distant hum of the city provided a soothing white noise to your racing thoughts.

Fifteen minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up beside the bus stop. The passenger door swung open, and Jack's athletic frame filled the space, his eyes scanning the area until they found you. He stepped out, his tennis shoes thudding against the pavement, and in three long strides, he was by your side, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was strong and comforting, like a lighthouse guiding you to safety. He smelled faintly of sweat and grass, a reminder of the hours he spent on the court that afternoon, but it was the scent of home and love that you focused on as you buried your face into his chest.

"Hey," he whispered, stroking your hair gently. "Let's get you out of here."

Jack guided you into the car, his hand never leaving your back as he settled you into the plush leather seat. The car's interior smelled faintly of his cologne, a scent that was uniquely his, and it helped to ease the tension in your body. He closed the door with a soft click and circled around to the driver's side. As he slid in beside you, he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purr like a contented cat came to life. The car's heated seats began to warm up, and you felt the first stirrings of comfort spread through your cold body.

Jack reached over and took your hand, giving it a squeeze before shifting gears and pulling out into the evening traffic. The city lights reflected in his eyes as he focused on the road ahead, his jaw set in determination to get you home as quickly as possible. You watched the scenery pass by, the blur of buildings and people becoming a soothing panorama that seemed to match the rhythm of your slowing heartbeat. The leather seats were still warm from the day's sun, and you leaned into them, letting the comfort seep into your bones.

As the car glided through the streets, Jack began to talk, sharing the details of his own day on the tennis courts. His voice was low and soothing, the words a gentle stream that washed over you. You found yourself smiling through the tears as he recounted a particularly hilarious mishap during his training session, his laughter echoing in the car. His thumb rubbed small circles on the back of your hand, sending waves of warmth up your arm. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a promise that everything would be okay.

The ride home was a blend of comforting silence and casual banter, Jack occasionally glancing over to check on you, his eyes filled with concern. When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, the reality of the day's events began to creep back in, but Jack's presence was a shield against the gloom. He helped you out of the car, your legs feeling like jelly after the emotional rollercoaster of the day. The sound of your shoes on the sidewalk was the only noise that broke the serenity of the evening.

\\\

Once inside the apartment, Jack led you to the couch, his hand never leaving the small of your back. He grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table and sat down next to you, handing you a few. You took them gratefully, dabbing at your eyes and nose, feeling the warmth of his body beside you. The apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of dinner that he must have ordered while you were on the phone. It smelled like your favorite Italian place, with hints of garlic and tomato sauce.

"Jack, you didn't have to," you murmured, trying to protest, but he shushed you with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Now, tell me everything."

You sighed, the weight of the day's troubles slowly lifting as you recounted the endless list of disasters at work. The broken machine, the unreasonable customers, and the relentless pressure from your boss. Jack listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, nodding along as if he could feel every ounce of your frustration. His empathy was palpable, a silent understanding that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

As you spoke, he reached over and gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. His touch was tender, and for a moment, you forgot about the chaos of the day. "It's okay," he said, his voice a gentle reassurance. "You're safe here."

Jack stood up and walked over to the kitchen, returning with two steaming plates of pasta. He set one down in front of you, the cheese bubbling and the garlic bread crunchy on the side. The sight of food was almost comical, given your emotional state, but the comfort it represented was undeniable. "Eat," he urged, handing you a fork. "You'll feel better."

You took a bite, the warm, saucy goodness filling your mouth and stomach. The taste was heavenly, and with each chew, the tension in your shoulders lessened. You watched as Jack took a bite of his own, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he chewed thoughtfully, his eyes focused on you, made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

As you ate, Jack began to outline a plan for the rest of the evening. "We're going to have a little at-home spa night," he declared, his voice filled with excitement. "Bubble bath, face masks, the works."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Jack, you don't have to do all this."

He squeezed your hand. "I know, but I want to. You deserve it after the day you've had."

Jack cleared the dinner plates away and led you to the bathroom, which had been transformed into a sanctuary of tranquility. The room was suffused with the scent of lavender and vanilla, courtesy of the candles flickering on the shelves and the bath bomb dissolving in the water. He'd drawn you a bath with bubbles that rose like a cloud around you, the water a perfect temperature that made you want to sink in and never leave.

He helped you out of your work clothes, his touch careful and loving, as if handling something fragile. You stepped into the tub, the warmth enveloping you instantly. The bubbles tickled your skin, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as you sank deeper into the water.

Jack knelt beside the tub, his hand holding yours. "Just relax," he murmured, his eyes filled with so much love it was almost tangible. “I’ll go grab the face masks. You’re going to pamper yourself until you’re all smiles again, okay?"

You nodded, watching as he left the room. The sound of his footsteps grew faint before returning with a soft patter. He set a tray on the floor beside the tub, laden with face masks, a glass of sparkling water, and a chocolate bar. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it all. "Jack, you're too much," you said, but the joy in your voice was undeniable.

He handed you a face mask and grinned. "No such thing as too much pampering after a day like today." He sat down on the edge of the tub, his knees bent, and carefully applied the mask to your face. His touch was gentle, his fingers lingering on your skin, making sure it was applied evenly. You felt the coolness of the mask begin to warm, tingling slightly as it worked its magic.

Jack leaned back against the wall, his arms around his bent legs, watching you with a soft smile. "You know," he said, "I've had my fair share of bad days on the court. The kind where nothing seems to go right, and you just want to throw your racket against the ground."

You chuckled through the face mask, the sound muffled but genuine. "It's not quite the same, but I get it."

Jack nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's all about the comeback, though. You'll have a better day tomorrow. And if you don't, well, we'll just have to do this again." He squeezed your hand reassuringly.

The minutes ticked by as you soaked in the warmth, feeling the tension in your muscles melt away. The flickering candles cast a soft glow over the room, making the bubbles dance in the light. The sound of the water lapping gently against the sides of the tub was hypnotic, lulling you into a state of relaxation.

Jack leaned over and kissed your forehead. "You look like you're already feeling better," he said, his voice filled with hope.

You managed a small smile. "Thanks to you."

Jack stood up and handed you the glass of sparkling water. "Drink up," he said. "It's important to stay hydrated, especially after a crying marathon." He winked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. The bubbles popped around you as you took a sip, the cold liquid feeling refreshing against your dry throat.

\\\

After a while, he helped you out of the tub, wrapping you in a plush bathrobe that smelled like fresh laundry, and handed you one of his hoodies and sweatpants before he briefly left the bathroom to give you privacy as you changed. You carefully removed the face mask and discarded it. When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Jack had set up a cozy space on the bed with fluffy pillows and blankets. The TV was playing a favorite sitcom on low volume, providing a gentle background of laughter and familiarity.

He sat beside you, unfurling a face mask for himself. "Solidarity," he said with a grin, placing it over his features. The sight of him in a pink, glittery mask made you laugh out loud, despite the lingering sadness. It was a welcome release of tension.

You settled into the bed, the plushness of the pillows cradling your weary body. The soft fabric of the hoodie was heaven against your skin, and the warmth of the blankets enveloped you like a cocoon. As the sitcom played, you both lay there, the sound of your breathing synced in a comforting rhythm. The TV's glow painted the room with soft, shifting colors, and the laugh track grew fainter as your eyes grew heavier.

Jack reached over and took your hand again, his fingers lacing through yours. His touch was grounding, a reminder that you weren't alone. "Better?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the weight of the day's troubles slowly lifting. "Much better," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. The warmth of his hand was a lifeline, pulling you back to the present.

Jack leaned over and gently kissed your cheek. "Good," he said, his smile visible even through the face mask. "Now, let's get to the serious part of the evening." He grabbed the chocolate bar from the tray and broke off a piece, holding it to your lips. You took a bite, the sweetness spreading over your tongue, the sugar rush bringing a spark of energy to your drained body.

You laid there, side by side, munching on chocolate and watching the sitcom, the laughter from the TV mixing with Jack's occasional snort of amusement. His hand remained in yours, his thumb making lazy circles that sent bolts of comfort through you. The scent of the candles and the clean, fresh smell of the bubble bath clung to the air, creating a cocoon of peace that seemed to push the rest of the world away.

As the show went on, you found yourself dozing off, the rhythmic sound of Jack's breathing and the softness of the pillow beneath your head lulling you into a much-needed nap. When you woke up, the TV had been turned off, and the room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Jack was gone, but the warmth from his side of the bed remained, like a memory of his presence.

You rolled over to find him sitting at the small desk, scribbling something on a notepad. The sight of his focused expression made you smile. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

Jack looked up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Just writing down some thoughts," he said, tapping the pad with his pen. "Ideas for your birthday surprise."

Your heart fluttered at the mention of your birthday, which was just a week away. Jack had been planning something special, but he had been tight-lipped about the details. "Jack, you really don't have to—"

"Shh," he said, holding up a finger. "It's a surprise. But trust me, you're going to love it."

You watched him for a moment longer, his concentration unbroken, before letting out a content sigh and snuggling deeper into the blankets. The warmth of the room was like a cocoon, the scent of the candles lingering gently in the air. Your eyes grew heavy again, and you closed them, feeling the last remnants of the day's stress begin to dissipate.

[octuscle]

I need help. This guy just walks up to me on the street and pricks my hand with a needle! He said something about me becoming a “real country boy”. The thing is, I live in the middle of the city. My friend said you could help.

Help? Yeah sure, but what exactly do you have in mind? Maybe you could sit in your smart EQ fortwo and take a look at the countryside. You seem a bit tense right now, some country air might do you good… You're struggling through inner-city traffic. The city can really suck. You're glad to be over the bridge. Slowly the air gets better. And the view is clearer. And the traffic less. Fuck, the tank is empty! You urgently need a gas station. Wait, the car is electric… Anyway, it says you need to refuel… You steer your little runabout with the last of your strength to the next gas pump. Shit, 33 gallons. Then there really wasn't a drop left in it.

You pay at the cash register in cash, credit cards are newfangled shit. And you take another coffee and a donut with you. The drive is still long. You love your Dodge RAM. Gliding down the country road in it is simply majestic. Of course, it's not made for the city. But then, neither are you. Remember when you thought you could be a veterinarian? You went to university. Far too many people in one place. You could only stand it for two semesters.

You just stop at the hardware store. You still need a few things. Old Pete is always happy to see you. And you always have time for a little chat. Life in the country is relaxed. Back in the car you take off your sweaty wifebeater. Although the sun is setting slowly, it is still very warm. You roll down the windows. The breeze cools your sweaty bare chest. You still have one customer, after which you can perhaps go down to the river and swim a bit. And with a little luck, Mikey will be there, too. You could use a little fun with his cock tonight…

The idea of dropping out of veterinary school and becoming a blacksmith in your village was the best idea of your life. You love horses, you love the people here. And you would always prefer good sex in the hayloft to slinging in the darkroom.

Hot guy with cap? Will probably be from @simonsx XD

[honeesucker]

Heart-Shaped Castella

Pairing: Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fatgum) x Fem!Reader | NSFW 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 5,466

Content Warnings: a single-use of a food word in lieu of a curse word, absolute cavity-inducing softness, size difference / size kink, reader has a molecular quirk that allows her to stretch doughs... and other things, Fatgum is a little obsessive but in a sweet new crush kind of way, descriptions of villain attack, brief mention of blood (dried) and injuries (minor), p in v sex, pussy eating, aftercare softness.

*For @frostthecupcake​ ‘s RomCom collab! 💐

Click here for the rest of the collab! ♡

The gentle breeze that drifted in through the open transom windows of your bakery helped to alleviate the humid warmth from your ovens and sent a delicious waft of your freshly baked pastries out onto the street. You had your headphones in, not worried about customers walking in this late as it was past your operating hours, and you were just catching up on baking for the next day so you could sleep in a little more. You were dancing, the gentle sway of your hips gliding you around the kitchen as you put on oven mitts and took some fresh, sweet seasonal-flavored breads from the oven before sliding them onto a cooling rack before turning back to a new icing recipe you were monitoring. Outside on the street, Fatgum was making his way back to the agency to wrap up some reports from an earlier incident, having already sent his sidekicks home to rest. The sweetest scent hit him like a bullet train and brought him to a dead stop in the center of the sidewalk as hie eyes scanned around him. He had walked this road many times before, in fact this was his most used route back to the agency, and back to his home because of how many restaurants and shops line the streets... and he can’t remember ever smelling something like this.  

Fatgum’s eyes scanned around the familiar line of street vendors, open shops, restaurants and other assortment of buzzing businesses until his eyes caught sight of something he had never had the chance to catch open. A bakery, Flake & Crumble, had always been closed when he was walking to the agency in the morning hours, and closed when he was trudging home or back to the agency into the late night... this was like a golden opportunity shining brightly in his face, and wafting into his nose. He made his way to the tall glass doors before pushing one open with a melodic ding! before noticing no one was around, no one at the counter to greet customers, and no... customers? Fatgum felt a little out of place, wondering if the shop was truly open like it seemed before the sound of gentle hums and someone singing pieces of a song from the back.

Curiosity piqued, Fatgum followed the sound of the humming. His steps cautious as he navigated through the neatly organized bakery, careful in his current form not to carelessly knock anything over in the tight spaces. As he rounded the corner into the back, the sweet aroma enveloped him, intensifying with each passing moment. He couldn't help but let out a contented sigh, feeling his mouth water with the scent of the delectable treats wafting from the back.

As he neared the source of the humming, his eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of you, dancing and swaying to the music playing in your headphones. The sight was both unexpected and delightful, your movements exuding a joy and passion for your craft that was infectious, as you took trays from the oven to a cooling rack, from a rack to a counter where you were putting them on display trays... Fatgum found himself captivated, unable to tear his gaze away from you lost in your own little world, you continued to dance, your graceful motions mirroring the rhythm of the music.  

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Fatgum cleared his throat, his voice breaking the mostly silent atmosphere. "Um, excuse me?" he called out, a hint of hesitancy in his voice as he tried not to startle you. Unfortunately, you were easily startled... screaming out as you turned and glanced up at Fatgum.

“Oh, for crusts sake!” Your heartbeat was hammering in your chest as your eyes widened as you took in the sight of the unexpected visitor. A smile graced your lips as you removed your headphones, the soft beats of the music now louder through your headphones. "Fatgum! Wow... ah, I'm sorry, we're closed for the day," you explained, a touch of regret in your voice. "But if you'd like, I can save you some goodies for tomorrow."

Fatgum chuckled, his soft laughter filling the air. "Actually, I was hoping to try something right now. The aroma drew me in from the street and I’m never by here when you’re open," he confessed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

A mischievous glint appeared in your eyes as you surveyed the array of freshly baked treats. "Well, since you've stumbled upon my secret late-night baking session, how about I make an exception and offer you a taste of something special? You are my favorite hero, and I did leave the door unlocked..."

The anticipation on Fatgum's face was palpable as he nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with excitement, accompanied by a soft blush on his cheeks at you calling him your favorite hero. You swiftly moved to the counter, retrieving a tray as you filled it with an assortment of pastries. Each treat looked like a work of art, their colors and textures enticing him without even taking a bite. Placing the tray between you, you explained each delicacy, sharing their unique flavors and ingredients. As Fatgum took his first bite, a look of pure bliss washed over his face. The combination of flavors exploded in his mouth, a symphony of sweetness and indulgence unlike anything he had ever experienced before, he felt his energy explode in a way it never had with other foods he consumed.

For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in this cozy bakery. Fatgum savored each bite, relishing in the care and expertise that went into creating each mouthwatering creation, and with every bite, a sense of warmth and connection grew between you... and as the last crumbs were devoured Fatgum let out a satisfied sigh, his hunger satisfied. He couldn't help but smile at you, gratitude radiating from his kind gaze.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "This was more than I could have imagined. You truly have a gift."

You returned his smile, a twinkle of pride in your eyes. "It's my pleasure. Sharing my passion with others is the best part of what I do... and even more unexpectedly when I get to share it with you – I never imagined I’d have the chance."  

The two of you shared a moment of quiet appreciation, the sound of soft music still playing in the background. It was a serendipitous encounter, a bright spark of a connection formed over pastries and something more.  

Days turned into weeks in the blink of an eye since that fateful nighttime encounter at your bakery. Fatgum found himself drawn back to the warmth and comfort of Flake & Crumble, not just for the mouthwatering pastries, but also for the inexplicable comfort he had found in you. With each visit, conversations grew longer and more intimate. Fatgum discovered your passion for baking went beyond the delicious treats you created; you often donated a lot of product to nearby shelters, you had charity days where all the money your bakery made would go to a chosen charity of the week... you heart was as big as your industrial-sized mixer, and it endeared him to you... and in return, you found solace in his presence, his jovial nature bringing a sense of ease and laughter to your days you never knew you were needing. It was a surreal experience, having your number one hero visiting you nearly daily but as time passed you grew more and more comfortable around him, he was just so easy to open up to, and be around.

On a particularly busy day, as you rushed around the bakery attending to customers and ensuring every order was prepared to perfection, Fatgum watched you with admiration. The way you effortlessly multitasked, your dedication evident in every meticulous detail, made him appreciate your talents even more... you were the one solely making the baked goods, and working the shop... you didn’t employ anyone – having stated one night that it was your labor of love and you had a hard time letting go of control when it came to the shop.

Finally, when the stream of customers began to dwindle, Fatgum took a deep breath, gathering his courage. Today was the day he would take the leap and ask you on a date, hoping that the connection he felt was reciprocated. With a warm smile, he approached the counter where you stood, a gentle flush gracing his cheeks. "Hey, (Name)," he greeted, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You turned to face him, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "Hey Fatgum, what’s up... need another round of sweet breads?"

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd be interested in going out with me sometime. You know, like a date?"

Your eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard by his request. However, the surprise quickly transformed into a soft, genuine smile. "I'd love to," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity as you averted your gaze from him, a red-hot blush creeping upon your face.  

"Really? That's great! How about we go out for dinner tomorrow? My treat." His excitement was palpable as relief washed over him; a weight lifted from his shoulders.

You nodded, a playful glimmer in your eyes. "Sounds wonderful. I'll be looking forward to it."

As the evening settled in, the two of you exchanged contact information, eagerly making plans for the following day. The anticipation and excitement filled the air, as Fatgum left your bakery with the melodic chime of your door, waving back at you with his signature grin from beyond the painted glass.

The next evening, Fatgum arrived at your doorstep, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Dressed in a clean, crisp outfit, not totally dissimilar to his hero costume, but more muted in shades of black and grey... an attempt to be casual despite his stature. He beamed with joy as you opened the door, a radiant smile adorning your face as you happily accepted the bouquet, inviting him in for a drink as you put the flowers in a beautiful clear vase before heading out together.

The date was filled with laughter, heartfelt conversations, and shared moments of connection over a delicious meal. You discovered more about each other's hopes, dreams, and passions. Time seemed to melt away as the evening unfolded, leaving the two of you lost in each other's company, and as the night ended, Fatgum walked you back to your apartment, a soft breeze rustling through the trees. The moonlight cast a gentle glow, enveloping you both in a quiet intimacy.

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. "I had an amazing time tonight," he confessed, his voice filled with nervous sincerity. "And I hope we can do it again soon."

A blush spread across your cheeks as you looked up at him, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and affection. "I had a wonderful time too, Fatgum," you replied softly. "I would love to see you again." You paused, considering your words. “For another date, outside of the bakery.”

“Taishiro,” Fatgum said softly, looking down at you with a soft expression.

“Hm?” You glanced up again, Fatgum backlit by the moonlight making him even more handsome in your eyes as the night enveloped you both.  

“Taishiro,” Fatgum repeated, smiling gently. “You can call me by my name, if you’d like to... Taishiro.”

With a shy smile you reached out, gently taking his large hand in yours... the warmth of his touch sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, your imagination running wild with the thoughts of where else his hands could go on your body... but instead you swallowed hard despite your mouth drying out, nervous, as you glanced up at him through your lashes. “Goodnight, Taishiro,” you murmured softly, and Fatgum couldn’t stop the blush on his cheeks, and if anyone asked it would be from the three glasses of wine he had at dinner. “Thank you for a most wonderful first date,” you leaned up, kissing the corner of his mouth as you turned and walked inside your apartment building... leaving a stunned Fatgum on the sidewalk, reaching up to touch where your lips had been with a dreamy sigh.

A week after your first date an unexpected thing happened, although within regular society Pro Heroes existed for one reason: to fight evil, to ward off villains... so not all that surprising when a group of villains attacked causing immeasurable damage to the city, and particularly the street your bakery was on. 

Villains, you thought as you lay beneath a piece of large steel rafter, what a bunch of assholes.

Fatgum's heart pounded with worry as he hurriedly made his way to your bakery. His mind raced with fear and concern, dreading what he might find upon his arrival. He had heard of the attack, had been dispatched in helping aide the other Pro Heroes on scene to wrap up the fight and evacuate citizens... Fatgum immediately recognizing the epicenter of the attack was in the district your bakery sat in the dead center of. The usual pleasant anticipation of seeing you had been replaced with a sense of dread, fueled by the realization that something terrible had happened, and the uncertainty of what he was to face when he found you... if he found you.

Rescue and recovery efforts had just begun, still in the planning and dispatching stages and as he turned the corner, his worst fears were confirmed. The once welcoming facade of Flake & Crumble now bore the scars of a violent encounter. Broken glass and scattered debris littered the entrance, and the interior was in disarray. Panic seized his chest as he called out your name, desperately hoping for a response as he bulldozed his way through the wreckage to the back of the bakery, ensuring no other civilians were injured in the building as well.

His heart sank when he heard a faint groan coming from the back. Without a second thought, Fatgum rushed forward, his instincts as a hero kicking into overdrive as he rushed over, his eyes widened with concern as he found you pinned beneath a steel beam, a stream of dried blood tracking down your face as you cradled your arm, your features etched with pain.

Fatgum's heart pounded with worry as he hurriedly made his way to your bakery. His mind raced with fear and concern, dreading what he might find upon his arrival. The usual pleasant anticipation of seeing you had been replaced with a sense of dread, fueled by the realization that something terrible had happened.

As he turned the corner, his worst fears were confirmed. The once welcoming facade of Flake & Crumble now bore the scars of a violent encounter. Broken glass and scattered debris littered the entrance, and the interior was in disarray. Panic seized his chest as he called out your name, desperately hoping for a response.

His heart sank when he heard a faint groan coming from behind the counter. Without a second thought, Fatgum rushed forward, his instincts as a hero kicking into overdrive. His eyes widened with concern as he found you cradling your arm, your face etched with pain.

"(Name)! Are you alright?" Fatgum exclaimed, kneeling beside you and lifting the metal beam off of your body.

You winced, but managed a weak smile. "I'm... I'm okay, Fatgum. Just a few minor injuries... my quirk keeps me flexible enough to manage this kind of thing, to be honest."

His heart swelled with relief at your words, though the sight of your pain tore at him. "We need to get you to a hospital," he insisted, gently supporting you as you attempted to stand.

You shook your head, stubborn determination flashing in your eyes. "No, Fatgum. The bakery... It needs to be taken care of first. We can worry about me later."

“Like Hell we can!” Fatgum shouted, his worry and the ball of anxiety that formed in him on his way over coming to a head as he exploded, tears welling up in, and falling from his eyes. “At least get checked out by the medics at the triage tent.” Seeing his grief at your current state, you didn’t want to be stubborn and argue, simply nodding and allowing him to carefully lead you over to the triage tent, where a medic with a healing quirk looked you over and assessed minimal damage, performing a quick heal that took care of the more major scrapes and bruises, and the laceration to your head. Despite your anxiety surrounding your bakery, Fatgum did his best to offer support and comfort in the form of physical touch, and encouraging words. They worked for the most part, but he noticed the deep, sad frown on your face as you looked at the decimated store front of Flake & Crumble.

Weeks passed as the restoration efforts continued, and through it all, Fatgum remained a constant presence in your life. He supported you emotionally, ensuring that you felt safe and cared for during the process of rebuilding. After a lot of hard work from you, and surprising, heartwarming efforts by the surrounding community, the bakery stood stronger than ever, a symbol of resilience.  

As the last piece of expertly painted glass was installed Fatgum gently took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and affection. "We made it through, (Name)," he said softly. "And I promise, I'll always be here to protect you." Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were tears of gratitude and love as you leaned up on the stool you were standing on, gently cradling his large face in your hands as you placed a sweet, passionate kiss to his lips. Fatgum didn’t react at first, being taken by complete surprise until his brain stopped misfiring long enough to wrap his arms around your body, pulling you in closer as he deepened the kiss, minutes passing until the desperate need for air forced you two apart, your foreheads pressing against each other as your eyes remained closed, basking in the intimacy of the afterglow. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, Fatgum looked at you with a mix of nervousness and affection. His eyes held a silent question, a desire to take the next step in your relationship after the shared moment with you.

"(Name), there's something I've been wanting to ask you," Fatgum began, his voice filled with tenderness. "Would you... would you like to come over to my place? I'd love to spend more time with you, just the two of us... if it’s not too forward."

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you took his hand in yours. "I'd love to, Taishiro,” you murmured, pressing another soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. His face lit up with joy, and he helped you wrap up the final touches on the bakery, locking up for the night; finally leading you to his apartment, a cozy space that reflected his big, warm personality. As you entered, you couldn't help but notice the comfortable and inviting atmosphere, adorned with plush furniture and soft lighting, and the heavenly smell of various snacks, and foods you hadn’t ever seen before... did he have foreign snacks imported? You couldn’t help the smile as you slipped out of your shoes, allowing Fatgum to lead you into his space as he picked you up and sat you down on the countertop in his kitchen as he made a quick phone call, ordering enough food to feed a small army as he grinned at you, walking in close to cage you between his body and the countertop. His large hands coming up to rest on the plushness of your hips as you felt his fingers squeeze and knead at the soft skin, a small gasp leaving your mouth as your lips parted at the sensations, Fatgum taking that moment to seal a kiss against your lips, his tongue exploring your mouth and filling you up in an unexpected way... but for such a large man, this size different wasn’t a surprise. He finally pulled away, both of you left panting as a needy look adored your sweet face, shooting a jolt of desire straight to Fatgum’s cock as he looked down at you, admiring the beauty of the moment.

His gaze met yours, seeking permission and reassurance. In that silent exchange, you both recognized the deepening connection that had blossomed between you... but before he could act on any further desire, as the warmth of your intimate moment lingered, a gentle rumble broke the tranquility of the room. Both you and Fatgum couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected interruption, your stomachs growling in unison.

A playful smile tugging at your lips. "I guess it's time to take a break from the romance and satisfy a different hunger." Reluctantly disentangling yourselves, you both moved from the kitchen and made your way to the living room, you sitting on the plush couch just as the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the food. Fatgum rushed to open it, returning with bags filled with a delicious-smelling array of food. The two of you set the food out on the coffee table, creating a makeshift feast that showcased an array of mouthwatering dishes as Fatgum smiled at you.  

“Dig in!” He said happily. In between mouthfuls, you and Fatgum continued your conversation, enjoying each other's company in a different, yet equally fulfilling way. The initial passion might have been momentarily set aside, but the connection between you remained strong, fostering a deep sense of closeness. As the last morsel was devoured and satisfied sighs escaped your lips, Fatgum leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. "You know, (Name), even takeaway can't compare to the sweetness of being with you," he said, his voice filled with genuine affection, a playful smile on his face at the cheesy thing he said.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling a surge of warmth and gratitude. "And being with you feels like home," you replied softly, your heart swelling with new love as Fatgum stared wide-eyed at you, for a moment it didn’t even seem like he was breathing as he pulled you into his arms, squeezing gently as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. With a renewed sense of appreciation for each other you both cleared the table before returning to the couch. Fatgum pulling you onto his lap as your legs straddled him as best as you could, his sheer size dwarfing you and causing you to blush with the sight of him... he was so gentle, so tender and loving for someone so intimidating in his size. Fatgum’s hands settled back on your hips, one hand reaching up to pull you back into a hungry kiss. Your lips parted for him with a sigh as his tongue explored your mouth once more, one hand anchored to the plush of your hip as the other began a slow ascent beneath your shirt, coming to rest a large hand over your chest as he pulled away to look at you, his eyes asking a silent question as you nodded... reaching back behind you to further the night as you unclasped your bra and let the material drop to the floor as you then pulled your sweater above your head, your top half now bared to Fatgum’s hungry eyes.  

“Wow,” he breathed, both hands now reaching up to knead and massage your chest, enjoying the needy little breathy sounds he pulled from you as he pinched your nipples with moderate strength. He lifted you up a little in his arms, leaning forward to take each breast in his mouth, sucking on the soft skin and nipping gently at each of your nipples as he assaulted you with hungry licks, gentle bites and new sensations you didn’t think chest stimulation would give you... but he was giving them to you. After a moment Fatgum helped you strip from your bottoms, too, before lifting you up as you gave a small, surprised scream before he threw your legs over his shoulders, bringing your exposed pussy to him as he leaned forward, his large hands gripping your hips as he gave an experimental lick, your body jolting with the sensation as his warm tongue completely covered you. Fatgum was a man who could ear, clearly, by his stature and the functionality of his quirk – there was no question... and with the masterful way he speared you on his tongue, the large appendage acting almost as a cock, warm, thick and wet as it wriggled and licked each hidden crevice inside of you, there was truly no question of his skills. Your mind went black as the pleasure overtook your body, the unexpected way he managed to use his size to utilize his tongue in a way no other man could had your body jolting up, grabbing onto him as you shook and convulsed on him, his tongue still fully seated inside of you as he pulled back slowly, drinking the sweet cum that you gave him... his retreat sending shudders through your body as your mind buzzed with the white noise of post mind-blowing orgasm.

He carefully lowered your body from his shoulders, opting to carry you bridal style as he walked you both into his bedroom. Fatgum set your nude body atop the plush comforter on his mega-sized bed, sinking into the softness as you licked your lips, watching as Fatgum slowly undid his jacket, revealing a t-shirt beneath, slowly slipping out of it as he revealed rippling muscle covered in layers of fat, an expanse of new and faded stretchmarks, proof of his body expanding and shrinking as it does, his strong arms flexing as he reaches down to slip out of his pants... left in nothing but black boxer briefs as your eyes goes wide as saucers at the sight of his half-hard bulge already being larger than any monster-sized toy you’ve seen online while shopping for yourself. Fatgum blushed under your intense scrutiny, before you smiled up at him, a genuine, loving smile.

“Y-You’re so...” you couldn’t find the words as you licked your lips again, staring across the expanse of his large body. “You’re so beautiful, Fatgum, so handsome... just... so damn big.” You breathed out, motioning for him to come to you as you slipped off the bed, standing up now as you touched all over his body, admiring the scars, curves, plush fat and muscle as he allowed you to grab and grope however, and wherever you please. “Gorgeous...” you breathed again, and this time Fatgum leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, the taste of your cum still on his tongue as he devoured you, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he sat you down on the bed, with him still standing his pelvis was at the perfect height for him to just... slip in. “Underwear, off, please.” You managed out, leaning back to toy with your clit as your wet, welcoming pussy called to him. He slipped from his boxer briefs, revealing a monster cock and a worried look on his face as you stared up at him.

“S-Should we even try? I don’t want to hurt you...” Fatgum said softly, a sad dejected tone to his voice. You shook your head slowly, smiling up at him.

“Remember when I told you about my quirk?” Fatgum nodded, briefly remembering when you mentioned it to him. “I can stretch, Taishiro... any part of my body.” He felt as though someone dumped a bucket of cold water on him, his eyes going wide as his brain misfired... you can stretch? He will... he will fit with no issues? He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe his luck in running into you, falling for you... and the universe giving him this gift of you two being able to fit each other perfectly. “Now please fuck me.”  

You didn’t have to tell him twice, with a few pumps to his length, he lined himself up with you, still filled with nervous energy as he pressed forward into you and while the stretch was tight and pleasant, and the look on your face was pure, unfiltered bliss... Fatgum could feel the way you gave way to him, feel the way be bottomed out and see the way he made your belly bulge up.

“Oh my god,” he breathed under his breath, reveling in a sensation he had never been able to experience before, the warm, wet tightness of your pussy convulsing around him as his balls rested heavy against your ass was something else... something he could never dream to imagine, fisting his hand or the custom-ordered cock sleeve did not compared to this feeling. Fatgum pulled almost all the way out, just the spongy head of his cock left inside to stretch you as he slammed his hips back up into you, a high-pitched scream of pleasure leaving your throat as you looked up at him, eyelashes already clumping together with tears from the sheer fullness he left you with. Fatgum couldn’t hold himself back, using your hips as leverage as he simultaneously slammed his cock forward and pulled your body to him until he was bullying his cock against your cervix in a mix of pleasure and pain, the overstimulation and his relentless thrusting leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock, a mixture of your cum, his spit and pre-cum... Fatgum bit hit bottom lip as he groaned, unable to deal in the pleasure your body was bringing him, your sweet saccharine cries as he pummeled into you until your body was shaking with another release, your walls clamping down around his cock as he continued to fuck you through your second orgasm. It wasn’t long after, with how tightly your cunt squeezed around his cock that his hips were stuttering and he was unloading a truly enormous release inside of you, the sticky white seeping out of your hole as he drug his cock in and out of you at a slower pace, until he fully softened in you, his cockhead releasing with a wet click as he nearly fell back onto the floor from the exhaustion and bliss. Fatgum lifting up your limp body, holding you close to him as he led you both to his shower, allowing the water to heat up and steam the bathroom as he stepped into the wide shower, practically a room of its own with large benches built in as he set you down under one of the many streams coming from multiple angles. He held lather a mild, sweet soap on your skin as you started to smell his familiar scent, your body relaxing into his touch as he took care to clean you up, even having you pee in the shower to prevent a UTI, cleaning you up again afterward... he took a moment away from you to wash himself, before turning off the water after a nice forty minutes together beneath the hot streams. He towel-dried your hair, and body, along with his as he walked you both back to his bed, stripping the top comforter that was stained and sticky, the musky scent of sex clinging to it as he went into his closet and pulled out a clean smelling, equally plush duvet. He settled into bed and pulled you close against him, murmuring sweet words into your hair as he held you close, stroking your body and kissing the top of your head. He offered you water, which you drank quickly as he smiled down at you, whispering thank you’s and words of his adoration as you settled against him, your eyes closing as you began to sink into a dreamless sleep, exhausting taking you with it.  

“When you wake up, I’m going to ask you to be my girlfriend officially,” Fatgum whispered softly, stroking the hair out of your face.

“Just marry me,” you yawned, the whisper leaving Fatgum frozen to his spot as he wasn’t sure if you were serious or not, wasn’t even sure if you were fully awake enough to realize what you said... but he vowed that come the first light of the morning he would definitely bring it up again.

It wasn’t hard for him, already picturing your guys’ life together.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Eddie Munson x Married FemReader One shot Part 2

TW: Smutolicous, Smut-o-Rama, Smut, NSFW, Dubious Consent, Cheating, Squirting, Toys, Insults, Idk what else. Don't try this at home unless, but if you do I want to hear about it.

Thanks to @loveshotzz & @myobmaya who feed my Eddie brain rot.

Read Part 1 Here Fic Menu

🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬🍭🍬

The screen door of your trailer whines as you push it open. Stepping out into humid air, it slams closed behind you with a loud whhhacck. Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you watch with amusement as a blonde with a ponytail and perky tits storms out of Eddie's trailer. He follows right behind her, bare-chested in a pair of sweats, throwing his hand in the air. 

"Oh. Come on."

"Screw you!" She screams at him over her shoulder as she gets in her car and drives off. He stands with his hands on hips, watching her drive down the road. With your arms crossed, you saunter across the street to chat with your neighbor. 

"Another satisfied customer?" You ask, coming to a stop beside him.

"Hardly," he says, watching her car kick up a cloud of dust as it heads down the road.

"What's the matter? You couldn't get her off?" He squares up to you, standing closer than considered polite.

"Actually," he drops his voice. "I was fucking her face, and I called out your name when I shot my load down her throat. I didn't come half as hard as I did with you."

"I'm flattered," you say, hooking your thumbs in your back pockets, and pushing out your chest to show him how hard your nipples just got.

"Did you get that thing yet?" Running your tongue over your teeth, you shake your head from side to side.

"Why not? You know you'll like it."

"I'm still thinking about it. What are you going to get out of it?"

"Don't worry about me, Sweetheart." He tucks some hair behind your ear. "Trailer trash pussy is my new bad habit." Your smile fades, and your face heats up at his insult. He catches your wrist before you can walk away.

"Get it. I'll meet you after work the day after tomorrow." Pulling your wrist out of his grip, you scoff at his audacity.

"You'll do it. We both know you like it when I tell you what to do. Shit, you're probably wet right now." He's right; you can feel your underwear stuck in between your damp folds. Moving closer, you push up on your toes, getting in his face.

"Fuck. You." You emphasize every syllable.

"Oh, Sweetheart. I know you'll be a good girl and do what you're told. I would hate to tell your husband about our playtime." His lips take on a cocky smirk that perfectly matches his tone.

"You think he would believe you over me. You're fucking delusional." You start walking across the road, but he stops you cold with his words. 

"What about when I tell him about that little birthmark you have on the inside of your thigh, or maybe I should describe the exact color of your nipples. Do you think he would believe me then?"

Spinning around, you give him a furious look, but he just grins.

"I'll see you the day after tomorrow. Oh, and Sweetheart, wear something pretty."

🍬🍭🍬

The cool material of your peach silk teddy glides over your hot skin as you open the door of room number seven with a strap falling off one shoulder. He has his hands on either side of the door frame, blocking the exit like he thinks you might run away. He's trying to look unaffected, but the way he's swallowing gives him away. His cropped band tee shows off the trail of hair that leads into his sweatpants, and it's your turn to swallow. 

"Very nice, Sweetheart. Sexy."

Wordlessly, you turn away from him and move further into the room. His hand comes down hard on your ass as the door clicks shut.

"Jesus, Eddie, that hurt. Keep your hands to yourself." The soft silk soothes your skin when you rub your hand over your backside.

"Come on, don't ruin all the fun." He takes a seat on top of the desk. 

"Fun? Is that what we're doing here? I thought we were here to fuck." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you lean back with your hands flat on the bed behind you. 

"We'll get to that. Did you get it?"

Cocking your head to the side, you flick your eyes toward the black shopping bag beside him on the desk.

"How did you feel buying it? Did you like everyone in the store knowing what you will do with it?"

 Using your arms, you slide back on the bed and rub your thigh together.

"You better start giving me your words, Sweetheart. Or I'm gonna think of a better use for your mouth." He warns, picking up the bad and looking inside.

"It made my pussy wet. I hope everyone in there thought about me using it. I hope they got off picturing me coming. But I wasn't as wet as I am now."

"Show me." His eyes are dark, and the bulge in sweats is starting to grow.

He can see the slick wetness glistening on your thighs as soon as you stand. Pushing the thin straps off your shoulders, the teddy slips down your body, ghosting over your hard nipples before pooling around your ankles. You let him look his fill before returning to the bed and spreading your legs, showing him your drenched cunt. 

"Jesus Christ. If you were mine, I wouldn't let you leave the house until I fucked your pussy raw." He reaches for the bag. "Cute," he says, pulling the hot pink dildo out of the bag.

"It's not as pretty as yours or as big. It's a shame. You'll never be inside me." His lips twist angrily as he stands up and pulls his shirt over his head before toeing off his shoes and socks.

"Lie down in the middle of the bed and spread your legs."

Pleased with yourself, you scoot your body to the center of the bed. Lying flat on your back, knees bent, you let your legs fall open. The cool air on your wet pussy has you clenching on nothing and rolling your hips while anticipating his next move. He watches you move as a small wet spot forms on his tented sweats. The side of the bed dips when he sits on the edge, one leg bent on the mattress, the other extended straight, his foot flat on the floor. Those chocolate eyes roam your body appreciatively. He reaches out his hand slowly, and you suck in a breath as his calloused fingers make contact with the skin of your shoulder. They smooth a path down your arm until he covers the top of your hand with his. He moves your joined hands until the pads of your fingers reach your slick heat. His hand never leaves yours as it moves through your folds. The feeling of the sides of his fingers brushing your puffy labia is even more intense than your fingers hitting your aching clit.��

"What are you doing? You can't touch me." Your breathy voice is hardly a protest.

"Relax," He says, pressing down a little harder. "I'm just touching your hand, helping you get ready. It's the neighborly thing to do, after all. Let me make it good for you."

"I didn't know that mattered to you."

"Of course it does. I can make it really good if you quit acting like a brat." His fingers are getting coated with your wetness. "Or don't. I'm fucking this cunt either way."

Your eyes flick to the dildo in his other hand. He sets it down on the bed near your head. Swallowing hard, you run your eyes over it, imagining him forcing it inside you. 

"Fuck, you just got even wetter. Don't worry, Baby. We are going to take this nice and slow." He pulls your hand away from your pussy and folds your glistening fingers so only your pointer finger is the one extended. Still covered by his, he brings it to your throbbing entrance. Pushing your finger inside, he slides his back to your knuckle, careful not to enter you. He moves your finger in and out, but it's too shallow, too small, and you ache to be filled. Moaning and thrusting your hips upward, the tip of his finger breaches your needy hole. 

"Please, Eddie. I need more." You plead, already teetering on the edge of orgasm, and you've barely been touched. It's his fingertip dipping in and out of you. Knowing with just a flick of his wrist or a hard thrust of your hips would have him inside you. Where you want him. Just the thought has your insides fluttering. 

"I know you do, Sweetheart. I'm going to help you." Reaching over your head, he takes the dildo in his other hand. Seeing him holding it makes you cry out. With a cocky smirk, he moves it toward your pussy. He gently rubs the head through your folds, bumping your fingers and driving them deeper. He taps the toy against your clit, and an electric shock runs through your body.

"Fuck. Yes. Please." You beg, but he pulls it away. It's dripping with your juices. "I want to taste you so bad. Can I?"

"Hmm. Yes." Writhing on the bed, you try not to thrust your hips, knowing the move would push him in deeper. Instead of licking the silicone, he smears it across your nipple. Before your lust-fogged brain calculates his intention. He dives for your tit, sucking in as much as possible, his teeth gently close on you as his tongue swirls over your nipple. 

"Eddie." Your hips fly off the mattress, you're coming. It hits you hard, your whole body shaking. As the aftershocks make your muscles clench, you realize your fingers aren't in your pussy. You have a death grip on his wrist. It's his finger swirling inside you. His teeth scrape your breast before catching just your nipple, biting down harder before releasing with a pop.

"You do taste good. Sorry, Sweetheart, I guess I broke the rules a little, although you don't seem to mind." He wiggles the finger you still have shoved inside you. Blood pounds in your ears as you pull his hand out and turn your red face away from him. He chuckles at your anger. "Well, that's one. I haven't decided how many times you'll come before I let you go." 

"Lucky me. Too bad you'll just end up coming in your pants. A little pathetic, don't you think?" 

"I can understand why that would disappoint you. We both know how much you love being covered in my cum."

Switching the toy to his dominant hand, he trails it over your cheek and across your breasts before running it through your folds. Shamelessly, you grind yourself against it.

"I'm tired of this game. You want me to come? I'll come, and then I'll leave, and you can jerk off all alone."

"Well, we better get to it then," he says as he angles the head of the toy at your entrance, slowly pushing it in. He watches as the shaft disappears into your tight hole.

"Oh god," you moan as you stretch around it, feeling its ridges drag against your inner walls. He pushes it in until its base is just outside your entrance and then pulls it out equally as slowly.

"It's already covered in your cum." His eyes are wide with fascination, and he adjusts his hard cock. Licking your lips as you watch him palm himself, you sneak a hand to lazily circle your clit. He shoves the dildo in hard, and it steals your breath. "None of that. I'm the one who's going to make you come." He fucks you hard. "Take your hand off your cunt." Sliding your fingers across your clit one last time, you let your hand drop to your side. "Good Girl." He slows his movements, pushing the toy in with one finger and allowing your muscles to push it back out again. The slow tease is excruciating, and a few tears of frustration run down your cheeks. He rubs his dick over his pants. "Your so fucking wet. I bet it's enough that this rubber cock would slide right in that tight ass. What do you think, Sweetheart? Want to find out?"

"No."

"No?" He's moving faster, timing it with the hand that strokes his cock. "You would look so pretty with your ass up in the air, this pink toy shoved inside, while your cunt drips. God, I could lay right under you and let your juice drip in my mouth." Little whimpers pass your lips, and your hands move to your breasts, roughly tugging your nipples. He starts crawling over you, his hand still working between your legs. "That's what really gets you off, isn't it? Knowing how much I want you. All the filthy things I want to do to you. Why don't you be a good girl and just give in." His face is just inches from yours, holding himself off you with one hand while slowly fucking the dildo into you over and over. 

"I don't fucking want you," you spit out, still rubbing at your tits. He chuckles darkly.

"Oh, Sweetheart, now you're a liar and a whore." He drops his hips and starts grinding, using his pelvis to fuck the toy into you. Lacing his finger with yours, he brings your joined hands up beside your head, holding you down while he thrusts. "Tell me how good this feels." He looks into your eyes, watching you pant and gasp.

"It feels so good. I love this cock inside me. It feels so much fucking better than you ever would."

"I'd feel a lot better than your limp-dick husband. Who won't even fuck you." He lets go of your hand to grab your tit, giving it a light slap before rolling your nipple. "My dick would wreck your cunt. I'd fill you with my cum and send you home to him with it dripping down your legs." 

"Please. Please…Eddie." All you can do is babble and claw at his back while bucking your hips desperately, trying to get more friction with the toy. 

"That's what you want. You want me to fuck all of your holes until they are overflowing with my cum. I'd eat it out of your cunt just so I could fill you up again. Tell me, that's what you want?" His words have you on the edge, but it's not enough.

"No. I don't want it. I don't want you." But your free hand starts pushing down his sweats until his cock is free; you can feel it dripping on you.

"You can't fucking have me." 

He reaches between you and pulls out the toy. Clenching on nothing, you whine at your sudden emptiness. Grabbing his cock you line it up at your entrance. As soon as his head is at your needy hole, he thrusts inside, filling you to the hilt. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes out; your walls are stretched more than ever before, instantly sending you over the edge; you come hard on his cock. He lets out a long groan at the feeling of your pussy milking him. 

He gives you no time to recover before he starts driving into you, deep and hard. He hits something in you no one's ever found before. It's too much. Something builds in your belly. He lets go of your other hand and pushes your knees up to your ribs. 

"Eddie, stop," you stutter even as your hands move to his ass, pulling him into you harder. 

"I can't, Sweetheart. I don't know if I will ever be able to stop fucking your tight cunt." He grips the headboard, his knuckles white, his arms and chest muscles flexing. He fucks into you, snapping his hips hard, his pubic bone hitting your clit on the upstroke. You can't hold back anymore, moaning; your pussy gushes around him. 

"Holy..fu..Jesus H. Christ, you're squirting all over me." Your muscles are so tight, but he fucks you right through it, and more and more of your juice splashes him. His movements are becoming erratic. One hand releases the headboard to wildly rub at your clit. 

"Fuck. No. Eddie. I can't. Please." You cry, tears running down your face. 

"I'm gonna come. I'm gonna fill you so full." Your legs are still shaking, and your senses are overloaded. He roars, and you can feel his hot cum starting to fill you. Your orgasm has never ended. It feels violent, you have absolutely no control, your cunt pulses as you moan and whine. He pulls out, your mixed cum dripping off his dick. His mouth goes right to your raw clit, sucking it and flicking it with his tongue. Shooting up, you kick and push until he's off you before rolling to your side, tucking your legs up, closing your eyes, catching your breath, and twitching through the aftershocks. 

He lies behind you, panting, stroking his softening dick. Gently, he rubs your slit, spreading the cum as it drips out. With a contented sigh, you cover his hand with yours, encouraging him to play in your folds. 

"Eddie, are you ever going to kiss me?"

"Sorry, Sweetheart, I can't have you falling in love with me."

Fic Menu

Tag List @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69

[tparker48]

Request for zombie-husky-blog

Stranded in the middle of Nowhere, Adonus walked along a path on a crossway heading east from where his car had broken down. He could still see his blinking lights beyond the twisted trees further down the road swatted at the mosquitoes sucking at the back of his neck. He traveled for another mile, finding himself between two hillsides as they rose to the barked branches like tall grass.

"mmm..I've been scouring for hours, wasn't there supposed to be a town in this mess?" he held his phone to the air, clicking at the top of the screen in efforts to strengthen the tiny bar holding his reception together. The stupid thing was the reason he was out here in the first place. Taking the backroads was a terrible reroute, he should've just went through the traffic on the highway when he had the chance. thrusting his fingers into the screen, sending a signal for a chance for someone to pick him up, it went dark as a circling symbol formed in the middle of the screen, turning the screen into a dark void.

"Out of battery, damn it!" he shoved his phone into his pocket, stomping through the grassy terrain as he swatted at the branches tugging at his jacket. His stomach grumbled in a low tone, bubbles crying from his distended gut. Great, not only is he stranded in the middle of nowhere, he's on the brink of starving. "Okay, think Adonus, the gps said their was a town in this part of the country. Yeah, just head southeast and you'll be right..or was it northeast? no not northeast, it was..west? Damn it!"

He kicked a rock from a spot in the soil, ricocheting behind a bush in front of him. A clang echoed from beyond, Adonus stopping in his tracks. He peeked through the leaves to the other side, his eyes beginning to sparkle. A building stood next to the lakeside as fireflies danced along the shores, trucks parked along the slim parking lot as they wrapped around the other side. 'Babo's kitchen' a billboard sign shined along the balcony, bulbs flickering around it.

"A restaurant? A restaurant!" He pushed the branch away from him, nearly tripping against the bush as he made his way into the clearing. He grabbed the metal handle of the front entrance, thrusting it open to the lobby inside.

The cool breeze hit him like a wave, the smell of crispy chicken whisping at his nose as a spark lit up his body. That sweet aroma, he'd be floating if he had the chance. He followed the smell like a hound on a hunt, gliding through the hallway to a pair of sliding doors to the left of him. Heading inside, he paused as he looked to the counter, a steaming bowl resting along it. He marched toward it, his hands slamming at both sides of the dish.

He watched as carrots swirled around the corners of the bowl, watered beef bunched together as they bobbed above the juices. "Oho, come to papa Adonus" he flicked the fork along its side to a tray along the bottom counter, lifting the entire bowl to his mouth. The juice of the soup enriched his tongue of the stewed food, the essence of carrots and meat flowing down his throat in mere lumps as they zoomed down his food pipe. His stomach yearned for its nutrients, forcing his mouth wide as if it were a trapped door. He never thought food tasted so good than before, he must more, so much more.

"Ahem." A raspy voice pierced the room, causing him to nearly spit out the delicious goods satisfying his hunger. He tilted his gaze to a pot bellied gut staring at him, a massive wall of abdominal muscle as a man's bearded face glared down. "That bowl was a customer's."

Adonus looked at the bowl, bashfully swallowing the bits in his mouth. "Oh..this..is a customer's?" He said, putting the bowl down. "It's a..really good soup. I'm sure they'll enjoy it."

"Uhuh, now onto pressing matters, what are you doing here?" he pointed a spoon at him. "I haven't seen someone as stylish as you. You a city boy?"

"City boy? I don't know I-"

A husky arm wrapped around his shoulder, yanking him close to the bearded man. "Nah I'm just messing with ya, we love all types of people from this land. Name's Babo, I'm the owner here of this restaurant."

The little guy pushed against his pectorals, wrestling with the gut's jiggling surface along the side of his cheek. "Adonus..my car broke down a few miles from here. I was hoping to crash somewhere while I find a repair man."

"A repair man huh? We got loads of those here. I'm sure I can get them to visit your car." He squeezed Adonus closer, his armpit oozing its sweat into his nose. "But don't think I'm gonna dismiss your chomping on my dish. you must be famished, why don't I fix you up something special. one that I like to give all my lovely city goers"

"Really! Er, I mean..I wouldn't want to intrude, you do have customers to-"

"Nonsense, they can wait. You're my first priority."

He lifted him off the ground, carrying the both of them through another pair of doors as he went into the hallway. Dinner plates clanged together in a path further ahead, chatting following them from a lighting further up the pathway. they softened as Babo moved into another pair of doors, a single table resting beneath a lantern. He sat Adonus down, on one of the chairs, scooting him up as the table cushioned at his torso.

"Now why don't you get yourself comfortable, and I'll whip up some..delicious food." He licked his lips, making his way through the doors and back to the kitchen.

The doors came to a silent shut, Adonus looking to the window before he gave a sigh. He kicked back along the chair, placing his hands at the back of his head. "Finally some service after so long. I don't know if my car breaking down was a god send, or luck."

He sat back and let his mind wander. What kind of food will Babo be bringing him? A deep fried steak with fries? Ooo, or maybe a crispy ham. Those would go great with easing his hungering stomach. It nearly growled at the thought as drool slipped from his lips. Not a moment later, Babo returned with a tray in hand, a dish resting upon it. Adonus just to his full height in the chair, his eyes glued to the silver tray.

"Hope you're hungry for my favorite recipe." Babo announced, he sat the tray along the table, lighting a candle upon it.

A large bowl rested up the tray, a turkey leg as thick as his hand sticking from the side. It looks. "It looks glorious!" He blurted, his nose almost sticking into the bowl. He grabbed one of the silver wares, spooning the mush surrounding the leg as chunks of its meat scooped into the pile.

He brought it into his mouth, and mashed the potatoes to the roof of his mouth. His body melted at the taste, releasing a moan as it flowed down his throat. He spooned another portion, noticing Babo pinching at a bottle next to him. "Was tha?" He garbled through his mouth, slobbery chunks dropping to the tables.

"What this? Just a little bit of ingredients to makes this dish special. Really special." He shook the bottle with his arm, his hand digging inside before it pulled. The materials were no bigger than a parsely stem, sprinkling over his tank top as he brushed them to the floor. "Care to have a taste." He jangled his fist around.

Adonus swallowed the portion in his mouth. "Would I ever." He moved his plate to Babo, his palm sprinkling the special ingredient before moving it back. He spooned another bunch into his mouth, and paused when the particles touched his tongue. It left a tangy taste, as sour as it mixed with the rest of the dish. Swallowing, he pounded at his chest. "A little rough around the throat."

"Here, drink this." Babo pushed a cup along the table. "It washes that down real good."

Adonus gazed upon the small cup in hand, sniffing at the corner. It was sweet, he can tell, but it reeked of beer behind its scent. He shrugged, pouring the fluid down his throat in a firm swig. "Man, you were right, my throat feels..a lot..better.." A whoozy sensation washed over him, his vision turning to wavy as he grabbed the table.

He looked to Babo who stood next to him, his bulky physique swirling as if he were in a vortex. "Something the matter? You don't look so good."

"I..I think I'm gonna-" he belched into the air, knocking into his chair. His body pulsed when the table climbed up his arm, his feet leaving the ground as the very room expanded. In moments, he found himself dangling from the wooden furniture, his feet unable to register against it.

Heavy steps peered to the left of him, Babo's thick belly jiggling to a halt. "Man, and here I thought those saps out there were gullible."

"What's..what's going."

"Why we're just getting to the main course." He dug a pair of chop sticks from his pocket, lowering just enough to let the tips loom over Adonus. He wheezed as the utensil squeezed at his sides, plucking him off the table and into the air. Babo traced his naked body like a paint brush, pinching at his now round stomach as he squeaked. "Yes, that's the size I'm looking floor. You're gonna make a fine little dumpling for my soup."

"Soup?! what are you talking about?!"

"I've been wanting to change things up this time around. It's been so long since I've had one of you stumble into my restaurant." he lifted his tank top, lowering Adonus toward his rounded gut. he stuffed him into his belly button, letting the doughy ring gum at his body. Mmm, the many memories I've had of having you city lovers squirming in my big belly, it's been ages."

he struggled against the advancing flesh, managing to slide his head from it maw. "That's insane! You can't eat me!"

"Not without marinating you I can't"

Babo hummed a tune as he took to the corner of the room, slobber drooling from his lips as he opened a pantry. He grabbed a plastic bag from the shelf, filled with red juice as it swished at the bottom of the bag. Pulling the seal, he hovered Adonus overhead as its released into the marinated seasoning into his nostril. he swatted pitifully at the air in efforts to ease his sense, but it only received a soft chuckle from Babo before he hovered him closer.

"In you go." He flung Adonus inti the opening, watching him as he splashed into the red juice.

He paddled aimlessly to reach the opening, his body submerging before he flailed to the surface. The bag sealed as the zip drawed across the lining, turning on its side as a tide crashed him into its plastic walls. Babo watched from further above, his fingers pinching on the bag's side as he rocked it in place. From one swish, he caught a clear glimpse his smug smile. from another, it became disfigured as he sunk beneath the seasonal tide, his limbs gliding from the bottom as he crashed to the surface of the bubble he was trapped in.

Eventualy, the bag stopped rocking, taking his chance to pierce the juices as he gasped at the salty air.

"There we go, my little dumpling's all seasoned up." Babo said as he unzipped the bag.

Adonus continued to paddle as he clawed at the sides of the bag, rubbery gloves reaching into the bag as they plucked at his side. Deep hums rang from above as he was hovered to Babo's bearded face, his tongue glossing over his oily lips.

he slapped him atop his pudgy belly. "Meet your new home, Adonus, you and it are gonna be spending so much time together." His hands stamped as waves rippled around his gut, its hairs snagging along his limbs as they tied knots around his knees. Removing his palm, he watched as his stomach danced to a halt, Adonus caught amongst his hair like a mouse trap.

"Look man, you don't have to do this. Im..I'm better than just a snack. Y-you want dish washer, I can be dishwasher!"

"Tempting offer, but I'm afraid I'm way to eager to have my dinner for the night. I bet you taste way better than the slop I serve. His Raspy voice soothed, his maw opening to reveal the fleshy cavern of his mouth. "time for a taste check."

"No wait-!" He was dropped from the stubby finger, Crashing along the spongy tongue as he slid to the back of the throat. the white molars around him swallowed the swallowed the light, the muscular organ coming alive as it twisted between his legs.

it coiled around his body like a snake, dragging him against the gums before it rolled him to the roof of the mouth. "Hah!...Waah!

He rubbed beneath its weight as a suction pulled the saliva to the back of the throat, a satisfying moan escaping from Babo as the tongue's pressure increased. He wheezed, wiggling against it like a worm. When another suction pulled at his body, the tongue flicked as the cavern was shined with light. His body sliding to the tip.

"Oh ya tast betta than a Imagin!" Babi said, garbled through his mouth as the tongue thrashed about. It curled and pinned Adonus against the bottom teeth, the little guy watching as one of the large hands reached toward a table.

Its fingers curled aeound a wooden bowl, a cocaphony of vegetables and meat resting among its bubbling juices as they were brought to the giant's mouth. The tongue bucked at his torso, sending him to the back as the giant uvula curled around his shoulder like a sleeve.

"Down the hatch.." He garbled, the bowl tilted as its contents spilled into the fleshy cavern.

Adonus let out a yell before a tidal wave of veggies toppled over his body, the beef scented juices washing him in its aroma. He pierced through a chunk of mushy potatoes, but the bulk of the tongue crushed its gap as it lifted to the room the roof of the mouth. The pile of vegetable dragged him over the muscular appendage, tonsils patting against the corner as its tucked against the wind pipe.

Gulp! The sound erutpted, the tongue opening like a trapped door as he and the other chunks of food were depostied inside. The inner tube squeezed like a vice, potatoes crumbling beneath its weight as they dressed Adonus in its rubble. Pull after pull, he past through as heavy thumps trailed beyond the walls, growing louder before it carried upwards.

After seconds of descending down Babo's throat, another opening met at his feet, suckling at his ankles before they widened to the rest of the contents. He was deposited inside a more open space, falling between a fold as gurgles lingered in the chamber. He was in the very source of the giant's appetite, the bottomless belly as it wobbled around him.

"Babo! Let me out of here!" He shouted, hearing his own boice rebound as they absorbed into the walls of his tubby tummy.

A chunk of beef crashed into his head, landing into his laps as it dosed his legs in a saliva and beef juice. He kicked at it in disgust, but looked to the quivering sphincter as fluid oozed from its folds. It opened like a flood gate, releasing a current of beef stew ontop of him as it filled the chamber to his chest. "Babo! Babo!"

**********************************************

Babo gulped at the veggies and meat as they flowed through his throat. Even with the thicker chunks mixed within them, it proved no more easier than drinking water. He tilted the bowl higher, tapping at the bottom until the last bits of potatoes slid along his throat.

"Man that hit the spot, you really added a kick like no other." He rubbed at his stomach. He fondled at the sides as he wobbled his fat in a handful, its gurgles tossing around the devoured contents while they stewed in his gut. But a softer sensation swam through his stomach, paddling against the bottom while a lighter touch tapped at the corner walls.

"Ba..hel-!..mm!"

Babo raised a palm to his ears, leaning into his rounded gut. "Come again? I couldn't exactly hear you with all that me in the way." He grabbed a portion of his belly,scooping them into his palms. He thrashed it around, its heavy mass spilling between his palms. "Babo to dumpling, come in dumpling!" He chuckled through his sways, listening to the sounds that resonated within. Gurgles were all that met his lobes, watery squelches flowing deeper inside. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, at least try to put a bit of oomph in your struggling. And here I went to go and make you all small."

He raised a finger and snapped them into the air, a pulse ringing inside him as it glowed. His stomach swelled beneath his arms, unraveling their crossed state as hair filled their gap. His belly soon overshadowed his view from the table, doughy hands stamping into the round ridges.

"Its so cramped in here!"

"Ah there's my dinner." Babo laugh, rocking his stomach in place. "Tell me, how does it feel to be in a stomach like mine. Is it comfy?"

"Far from it! Its ghastly, mushy. Its like a pig's pen in here."

He tossed his weight to the side if the table, getting from his chair. "Well, that's a stomach for ya. They tend to get a lot more..messy when you gain such a good dinner. But I'd say, you'd look pretty good being in there." He hugged his own punch, squeezing it s if it were a beach ball. "I could almost call it my own, soft, mmm, so big"

A punch grazed the side of his cheek. "I'm not your food."

lifting him off from the surface. He as surprised he could even punch that hard, but barely left a bruise as he massaged at the faint feeling. "You're right, you're my new belly."

He pulled his tank top around his stomach, tying his apron around his waist. Adonus proved resilient as he thrashed about inside, forcing him to readjust the strings to keep them secure. When the thin layer hugged at his stomach, he posed in the mirror and gazed upon his reflection. His stomach held its physique, round as a ball as it spilled over his waist. He almost, couldn't recognize the difference, at least he would if he hadn't focused on the faint punches absorbing beneath it. "All that kicking isn't gonna fly dumpling. Can't my dinner slip away before I even got to show off my new body."

He clemched his gut, snapping his fingers as a pulse rung through him. His stomach sharnk in size, Adonus' call.growing softer. By the time he rest his hands along his belly, it was no different than the fat he already had. With a satisfying oat, he entered back into thw hallway and to the kitchen.

He prepared slop for the customers, moving through the building to the booths along the window. His stomach swayed from side to side, brushing against the tables as they pushed to the walls.

"Yeesh, watch where your swinging that thing" a man said, holding his plate from the table.

"Hah, sorry, had a really heavy lunch."

Swift kicks cushioned against the muscular walls, Babo smiling as he turned over to the other tables. After serving the customers for a good while, he relaxed against his chair as the events hosted took place. He popped open a barrel of beer and poured it for the participants. The old belching game, customers always had a kick of seeing who could best the other's belch. He served the cups and watched as they wolfed down their beverages.

They erupted like fireworks, belches ringing from all sides as they laughed amongst themselves. Babo picked up his own glass, swirling it between his fingers before sipping at its glass. A soft muffle whispered from the speaker playing as he looked to his stomach, the bulky bully rocking in place in protest.

"Got a tummy ache, Babo? Guess your record is good as mine" one man said.

"Please, my belch will out way the both of yoy"

He merely chuckled, pouring another glass for himself. "Please, don't think a little belly ache with make such a threat to my title. " he raised the glass to his lips, fluid trickling into his beard while the rest flowed down his throat. Struggling from Adonus answered when the cold beverage filled the chamber, but it was nothing that a quick snap didn't fix, as it vanished beneath the layer of fat. When the empty space filled with air, he pointed his mouth to the air, releasing a monstrous belch. It volume rivaled the very music players through the building,any hushing as they stared at Babo's egregious roar.

He closed his mouth after a moment, wiling the fluid from his lips. "And that is how its done."

He basked in the crowds cheers, pouring another serving for the other contenders, but he doubted they'd be able to best that one, at least, not without the help of his little secret. After hours of serving the other customer, they eventually left as the sign dimmed at the front door, stacked plates topping the tables. Babo waddles through the lobby to the front entrance, locking the door as he crashed against the booths.

"Phew, what a day, Was pretty packed than the usual rush." He snapped his fingers as he patted at his swollen gut, the drunken beer sloshing inside solidifying as Adonus bulged from his form. "I suppose I have you to thank for that. You must be a lucky charm."

Hands imprinted from the corners of his stomach, a death mask of Adonus' smudge face gumming at the walls. Sloshes drowned out his voice, overthrown by Babo's breathing as his belly contracted to his lap. He nearly forgotten how long he's been stewing in there, like a part of himself he barely paid attention to. He liked that, more than he liked watching his gut overwhelm his knees.

"Mmm, my new belly, mine and mine forever" he hummed to himself, pushing at the imprints sticking from his stomach as if they were buttons.

He soon got up from the booths, turning off the light before heading out the back way to his car. He hopped into the driver's seat, the wheel mashing into his stomach. Hearing Adonus protest was music his ears, faint lumps pressing into the wheel turned by itself. He was going to get used this, it'll give him lots to look forward to after hours.

He buckled up, pulling out of the drive-thru to a cabin beyond the trees. The little snack was gonna be stuck with him, so he might as well get used to his nice longs drive in his stomach.

***************

It was a long night when Babo arrived in his cabin, hauling his weight from room to room was drawback when it came to walking , that much he could admit. But it was child'd play compared to when he arrived in his room, feeling Adonus sandwiched between him and and his own bed sheets, it was ecstasy beyond all else. He slept soundly through the night as the little guy swam through his stomach for a way out, drawing in limbs that stretched from his stomach.

Dawn soon arrived as he slouched from bed, his hand groggily fumbling at his gut. To his surprise, a punch escaped from beneath the layer, thrashing as his voice returned. Interesting, he should have digested with the rest of the stew. Guess he used too much of his secret ingredient for it to work naturally. No matter, he wasn't finished having fun with him anyway, and he knew the perfect place for him to have some quality time.

He hopped from his bed and took to his clothes, grabbing a pair of shorts before heading to his normal business. Fully dressed, he took to his boat and cruised upstream where he could see the restaurant between the slandered trees. When he arrived, he tied the boat to the dock before making his way onto shore, a bucket of his secret ingredient in hand as he rested along a beach chair.

He crashed upon the chair, kicking off his flip flops. "What a perfect day to visit lakeside, wouldn't you agree."

"It would be better if I were outside?"

"And risk you trying to high tail it? Hah, don't think so." He hugged at his stomach, squeezing upon its soft surface until limbs rested along his forearm. "Nothing separating me and my favorite belly filler."

He held firm as Adonus struggled in his grasp, bulging into his chest as his beard lifted to the side. But even he knew that wouldn't work, his stomach enjoyed him way too much to just let him slip away. No, he was going to stay right there, and nothing was going to change that.

"The signal's coming from here." A voice said from further up the shore.

Babo turned slightly to see a leaner person approaching from the road leading to the trees, a phone in hand as he used it as a compass. Who's this guy, he's the same clothes as his belly filler. He eyed them as they stepped onto the shoreline, their phone turning toward them.

They met eyes, the man sparkling with light as he made hisnway to toward him. "Oh! Another person! Please can you spare a moment."

"I know that voice from anywhere, Ditri!" Adonus called out, thrashed Babo's stomach from side to side. "Ditri! I'm in here-" Babo snapped his fingers in annoyance, tucking his belly into his palms.

Of all the times he had to be interrupted. "Oh uh..hey there. Can I, help you?"

"Yes, yes, I'm looking for a friend of mine. Adonus is his name."

Looking him huh? Explains why he got so exited. He relaxed in his chair, holding his stomach tight. "Adonus..a-don-us. Hmm, doesn't ring a bell. What this that french?"

"He's missing somewhere in these part of the woods. His car was found just down the road from."

Damn it, he forgot tell the boys to take the car. "Er..like I said, I haven't seen a guy like that around. So many try somewhere else and-" a kick pierced through his hold, sliding his arms to his belly button. He slammed his forearms against his belly, a ripple subduing the struggle beneath.

"Are you alright."

"Ah it's nothing. Just a..fish I caught was relaxing out." He hugged his stomach tighter, laying it atop of his knees. "And I'd appreciate if I can tend to it in private. So shew." He scratched at his stomach to erase the little lumps bypassing his forearms, turning his backside toward to Ditri.

"Please sir, you must know something about his whereabouts, give me something, anything."

He groaned at the response, placing a hand to his cheek. The mood was about to be gone at this rat. If he weren't trying to digest in piece he would throw the pestering small fry to the river side. With Adonus' squirms returning, he dug his fingers into his paunch to subdue him. But in that very moment, an idea resonated in his mind.

"Actually, I do remember this..'Adonus' fellow stopping by my restaurant last night."

"You have?! Where did he go?"

"Mmm, hard to say, its all fuzzy now that I recall. And with this squirming fish, I can think while I digest it." He rocked his front toward his direction, his pudgy stomach spilling over the edge. "You think you could give me a good belly rub, I think by then I'll have a clear idea of where your friend went."

He eyed Ditri as their gaze stared at his gut, the small movements beneath swirling around the surface as it it were a love trash bag. All this laying around was getting boring, so why not spice things up with a little misdirection. Having this little shrink close by will get his little snack kicking, that much he can assure.

His gaze focused upward as Ditri moved to its side, holding his fingers in the air. "Alright, if there's a chance you know where he went, I'll do it."

And the line is set. "Splendid, I really appreciate the assistance." He leaned his weight onto the center as his back crashed against it, exposing his belly to the warmth of the sun as he crossed his arms and legs around himself. "It's gonna take a lot of rubbing to get this fish bubblin'.." He said, fighting to not release a chuckle, "so be sure to put those noodles of yours to good use."

"O..kay?"

Babo smiled as the small fry moved closer, his jeans pushing over the side of the bench as his for looming his own. The hairs along his belly spiked as their palms touched along his belly button, their smooth skin brushing through them like a carpet. The burly mam moaned deeply, scratching at his sides to in ecstasy. The palms moved in a circular motion, dragging a corm of flesh to the sides as wobbled from side to side.

Struggling returned from inside, punching at the doughy surface to the outside world. Ditri moved his palm backward in response, but came to a halt when Babo wrapped an arm behind him. "Don't be squeamish, get a closer look." He heaved his arm into their back, their land halfway as their torsos connected. He pinned them beneath his forearm, squishing him into his stomach.

Ditri winced at the lumps washing beneath his face, wiping the the hair that caught between his lips. "Any..do you recall anything about where Adonus might be?"

"Who?"

"Adonus! My friend?"

"Oh! Oh yeah. It's uh..slowly getting back to me, I'll be happy to tell you before you know it. But first, a little around my love handles, love it when those get rubbed."

The little guy groaned as he continued to massage at his stomach, Babo crossing his arms behind his back as he looked to the sky. By now Adonus was too weak to struggle any longer, he powerful punches turning into mere taps by the second.

An hour soon passed as he rested upon the bench, lofting his arm off Ditri as he got to his planted his feet onto the rocky soil.

"There..is that..it?"

Babo looked to his stomach, eyeing its corners as he patted it down. When it wobbled over its form, his smile grew wider. "Not bad, not bad at all. You did great work with digestion." He tucked his shirt over his belly, reaching for the bucket before returning to his boat. "Welp, I'd best head back to the restaurant, gotta open the doors before the customers riot."

"Hold it!" Pebbles skidded behind him, Ditri blocking his path.

"Yeah?"

"You said you'd tell me where my friend is. I held up my end of the bargain, now you hold up yours."

"I did mention that did I? Must've slip my mind. Alright, lean in real. close." He wiggled his finger, Ditri obliging as he ear brushed his beard. Your friend is.." He flexed his stomach as air escaped into his throat, erupting from his in a monstrous roar. His belch was heavy in nature with the contents of slobber flicking to the small fry's nose, it was a sight to behold as he squirmed in its path. Closing his mouth, he patted at his stomach. "Here."

Ditri grew pale at the statement. "What? I..I don't underatanding."

"Oi, city goers. Let me spell it out for you then..." he snapped his fingers as his paunch grew in size, faint handprints stretching the walls. A disfigured face stretched from beneath his tanktop, Adonus calling to his friend. "I. Ate him."

He hovered hand full palm toward Sitri, blowing him a kiss as his secret ingredient speinkled ocer him. He watched as he fanned tonget the flakes off, but to no avail as his body shrunk to the pebbles resting alomg the shore. He kicked over the clothes woth his feet to peer into the collar of the shirt, plucking the small friend into the air as he licked his lips. "Now I not only got one stuffer stashed away, now I've got two."

Ditri swatted at his thumb, his blows meres making then jiggle as Babo brought his closer. He opened his mouth, letting the hot air inside flow out. "No! You can't!"

"I can." He replied. He dropped his inside his mouth, holding his jaws open as he tumbled to the back.

He didn't have to move a muscle as he tongue overwhelmed him, bucking the unfortunate small fry down his food chute to join his awaited friend. Reaching his stomach, he snapped his fingers as the two of them grew in size. Tearing his tank top from his body as if it were a slither of paper.

"Haha! That's what I'm talking about. Now there's a belly worth talking about!" He massaged over his stomach, the two inside thrashing it from side to side. "Oh don't worry boys, at least you have a new purpose in life. Making my belly big."

He stepped into his boat, his weight rocking its balance as he made his way into the cockpit. Turning on the engine, he massaged over his down as he moved down the riverside, taking his belly fillers along to relish in his new fashion.

[catdragonstella]

Ladies and gentlemans. Meet Muse

Gender: Female

Height: 8"4'

Age:29

"Wings" 8"11'

Hobbies: Singing, dancing, sweetsmaking, partying, grooming and styling her two aurlumises fur.

Worship gods: Emory, Ascention, Vizion (secretly)

Design n personality

Muse (her artist name) is a famous singer and sweets maker on the road. Does that sounds crazy? Good, because she just loves to do things her way. She is passionate, has a lot of charisma and beautiful voice she uses to charm customers. She can be little way prideful and pushy, but she cares alot about people she loves and pampers them with love, especially her two aurlumises Carrotcake and Candycane. She likes to wear stylish clothes for her shows and parties, always puts her wisps up with her hair tie and always wears her mechanical wings made out of donated vexeneer's feathers and gear. They are not really functinoal for flying (more for gliding), but she still wears them.

Story details

Muse is from Lourielle, where she grow up and become a business woman with delicious treats of her making, but it bored her in the city, so she took some of her employees, bought bigger vehicles that are carried by bigger animals that can resist heat and long journeys and took the show on the road. Nobody knows where she got her wings, but she still proudly preforms in them. When she arrives in a town, or an village, she preforms for advertisement for her sweets and in some rare occasion she will throw a selling party. She will help Marmur to get to the poachers den to safe other vexeneers, because she already met him one time when she arrived to Haloville (Marmur's village) met Mura and had a little adventure with her, but that's an other story. ;)

(Vexeneers belongs to @clock-onyx, go follow them they are amaizing artists)

[sweetdreamsofgelato]

Tis the Season

(gif shamelessly stolen from google)

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (You)

Summary: Henry takes Christmas decorations a little too seriously

Rating: T-M for language and innuendo and the lightest sprinkling of spice, but nothing explicit. Mostly just snarky, fluffy nonsense.

Word Count: 2160

Warnings/Content: RPF; Adult language and very mild sexual innuendo

A/N: AUish; could easily fit into my Midsummer Misadventures universe, though it was not written with that intent.

This is a product of a conversation with my neighbour who asked, rather bluntly, how I planned to decorate the outside of the house for Christmas. Not if, but how. Moved to a new area earlier this year and this is my first holiday season here. Apparently, the neighbourhood takes decorating very seriously. Anyway, this idea popped into my head and snowballed into a day lost to hyperfixation. Hope you all enjoy it!

Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own.

Reposting my works on any other sites or platforms is strictly prohibited (my official AO3 is linked in my master list). Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

All was not calm on the Yuletide front. 

A collapsed polar vortex brought with it uncommonly cold temperatures and a sudden heavy snowstorm that thickly blanketed the majority of the county. Henry had just returned from a shoot he’d left for at the beginning of autumn. He’d assumed he’d return in time to string up lights and set up decorations before the winter weather set in, but mother nature had other ideas. 

On the harrowing drive back from the airport, you’d tried to talk him out of his ridiculously overwrought plans but had been resoundingly unsuccessful.

“It’s not worth breaking your neck. I’m pretty sure unnecessary risks to life and limb violate your contracts anyway.” Your grip tightened on the steering wheel when you felt the tyres glide across an icy patch in the road. You'd not even put the winter tyres on yet. 

“This is unbelievable,” Henry breathed against the window. He quickly wiped away the patch of fog to take in the steadily growing snow drifts. “Winter's barely begun.” 

“All the more reason not to tempt fate.”

Henry let out a noncommittal grunt and then squinted out the windscreen. “Turn up here.”

“Are we at our turn-off already?” The windscreen wipers worked overtime, but the steady torrent of fat snowflakes still hindered visibility.

Henry didn’t answer, and then the lighted sign indicating the direction to Highgrass Hill Manor (your closest neighbour) came into view.

“No, Henry. Absolutely not. I am not driving up to Highgrass.”

“It’s on the way, and I just want to see.”

“It’s out of the way and it’s already late, but that’s beside the point.” You firmly shook your head. “I am not encouraging this absurd rivalry.”

“C’mon, just a quick peek.”

“No.” You watched the turn-off to Highgrass Hill disappear in your rear-view mirror then turned down the road that led home. This was precisely why you insisted on driving. Henry kicked up quite the fuss about it when he saw the state of the roads, but you knew if he was behind the wheel, he’d take a detour to scope out the Highgrass holiday display. You’d made the mistake of mentioning it when you’d last talked and he’d been overly eager for details, none of which you’d felt inclined to provide at the time.

“Fine,” Henry pouted, folding his arms and settling back against his seat. He lasted all of two minutes (you timed it) before he turned to you and asked, “Do they have the elf workshop? I tried to buy it before I left but it was sold out everywhere.” He looked supremely annoyed. “No time to order a custom build either…”

“Henry…”

“How about the life-size Santa sleigh and full reindeer team?” he asked eagerly, his lips curving with a self-satisfied smirk. “I managed to get that one just before I left.”

“I know,” you grumbled, “it was delivered on ten pallets.” That’d been a fun morning. The poor garage was bursting at the seams.

“I reckon he’s doing the ice palace again this year,” Henry remarked bitterly, completely unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm. 

You angled him a serious look. “You need help.”

“I could probably bribe one of my brothers to drive out.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The man’s tunnel vision was formidable. Despite his late night return, he bounded out of bed at some obscenely early hour that morning. You hoped against hope that it was simply jet lag, but the incessant banging about outside forced you from bed a few hours later. You swore groggily when you discovered the remnants of his breakfast: an oversized bowl coated in dregs of congealed porridge, three shrivelled banana peels, two empty yoghurt pots, and what looked like the scraps of a six-egg steak omelette. 

He fuelled for battle.

You got on with your day and ignored it the best you could, repeatedly reminding yourself that this year’s “Cavillmas” festivities were to raise money for a new ward at the local children’s hospital. You were positive it was a conveniently cooked-up cover for his annual decoration war with Highgrass. You knew Henry already arranged the needed funding for the hospital in full. Proceeds from any public donations were just icing on the cake. 

"A win-win,” he’d called it. 

Another jarring thump sounded from above, followed by three loud bangs. Chunks of dislodged snow showered down outside the front window. A long string of violent curses—though out of your earshot—surely followed. 

You set down your book and scowled through the ceiling. This would end in one of two ways: either Henry would finally end up in hospital or yet another Christmas display would meet an untimely end. Frankly, you weren’t keen to deal with the aftermath of either. With one more sip of steaming tea for fortitude, you jammed on your coat, boots, and knit hat and trudged outside. 

Last night’s storm had finally blown through, leaving brilliantly clear skies and frightfully cold temperatures. You pulled your coat collar tighter around your neck, your breath billowing from your lips as you stomped through the innumerable winding tracks Henry had already left in the snow. Damp bit through your fleece joggers as you assessed the carnage. Pallet after overturned pallet was haphazardly discarded across the lawn. Bits of torn boxes and wrapping drifted from the overstuffed bins next to Henry’s work table. Various tools were scattered about the surface and fresh sawdust danced in the air. Your head tilted to the side as you caught sight of a crumpled piece of paper secured under a fresh offcut of wood, the free corner flapping in the frigid wind. You tugged it into full view; it was a preliminary sketch of something you could only assume was obnoxiously large. 

Speaking of obnoxiously large. 

“Henry!” you called out with renewed urgency.

There was another thump and this time you did hear the cursing. “Get back inside! It’s freezing.” 

The command drifted down from the roof. You looked up and Henry’s head was just visible over the ridge. Snow caked the collar of his puffy coat and knit benny hat and his cheeks and nose were ruddied by the cold. His mien, even at a distance, was utterly defiant. If the man didn’t end up hospitalised from injury, surely it would be from catching his death in the cold. 

“Pack it in!” you shouted back, “you’re going to get yourself killed!”

“The only one at risk is dear Rudolph here,” Henry shouted as he wrestled a large, festively painted 10-point plastic stag into a headlock. “Bloody thing refuses to stay put.”

“You’ve gone absolutely mad!”

“You know what’s mad?” Henry’s tone grew increasingly manic as he crawled across the ridge and toward the ladder perched against the edge of the roof. The reindeer’s hooves cut a sharp line through what was left of the snow as Henry dragged it behind him. “Highgrass installed an ice rink in the middle of his circular drive, and he’s got not one, not two, but five—” He lifted a hand and splayed five gloved fingers in the air. The motion made him wobble precariously and loosed Rudolph from his grip. The reindeer ricocheted down the roof and ended lodged, hooves to the sky, in the tall holly hedge below. Henry thankfully remained safely on the roof. “—fully trimmed fir trees lining the drive. Each one has to be at least fifteen metres tall.”

“How terribly asymmetrical of him,” you deadpanned. You knew all this already and kept mum about it, rightly fearing it would send him into a tailspin.

“Exactly what I thought!” Henry visibly brightened and you groaned toward the sky. “Horrid design plan. Quantity over quality, I say,” he continued. “He’s added a winter wonderland adventure golf to Santa’s grotto, but that isn’t even the worst of it…” 

You briefly wondered if Henry had even taken a breath. His hat had gone askew in the scuffle with Rudolph and he looked properly unhinged.

“Henry, will you please come down before you hurt yourself? You can rant to your heart’s content once you’re on the ground.”

He waved off your concern. “I just want to finish the roof display and then I promise I’ll come in for lunch, but you won’t believe it…” he scoffed as he toed for the ladder, and that’s when you noticed them. 

“Are those rugby boots?”

He glanced at his feet and grunted affirmatively. “Needed extra traction.”

“Henry…”

“...he’s converted the old stable for a live nativity. I saw the donkey! I bet he hired the local acting troupe as well. The absolute cheek of it!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and willed forth every last ounce of your patience. “Please tell me you did not trespass into Highgrass’s stables.”

“I…” Henry sheepishly cleared his throat, having suddenly realised he’d openly incriminated himself. “I, erm, went for a run this morning and took the…scenic route.”

“Henry!”

“He stole my idea!”

“We don’t even have stables!”

“It’s the principle!”

That was it. Enough was enough. Time to break out the big guns. Henry was officially in A State™ and it was time to snap him out the best way you knew how.

“Well, if you aren’t going to come down then I shall just have to manage by myself.”

Henry was halfway down the ladder and trying to yank Rudolph out of the holly by the leg. He was so far gone that he didn’t even look up when he asked, “Manage what? Are you finishing the indoor decorations? I’ve got a great idea for the Blue Room. I’ll help once I’m done with this.” He gave the reindeer’s leg another firm tug and the force very nearly sent the whole ladder over.

Your nerves would never survive him.

“Manage my way onto Santa’s naughty list,” you ground out with as much mystery and allure as your frustration allowed.

That got his attention. He stilled but kept a hand on the reindeer. “How do you intend to do that?” Henry tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice dropped an octave at least, as it always did whenever his interest was piqued. 

“Oh, you know…I was thinking of doing that thing.”

Henry fully focused on you and you graciously afforded him a sly smile. He abandoned Rudolph and his knuckles whitened around the ladder rung as he descended a step. “Which thing, precisely?”

Whenever he went off on a shoot, your nightly phone calls and texts almost always ended naughtily, and you’d be the first to commend the man for his creative mind. This most recent stint away produced a sizable list of new and wicked endeavours. 

“The thing we talked about whilst you were away…” you answered as you casually undid the front of your coat. It was the last thing you wished to do the bleeding cold, but you weren’t about to chance losing him now.

“The thing…” he mused aloud, his voice gritty. “In the…” 

“Mmhmm.”

“On the…”

“Yes,” your voice was intentionally smokey as he descended three more rungs.

“With or without the…”

“Oh,” you shrugged your coat from your shoulders and shivered, only half from the cold air, “definitely with.”

“Alone?” Two more rungs. His eyes narrowed accusingly. “You wouldn’t.”

“I can see you’re a busy man.” You edged backwards toward the front of the house. “Would hate to distract you.”

Henry leapt the remaining distance to the ground and landed crouched in the snow. He slowly rose and when his shadowy gaze locked on yours, the corner of his mouth pulled into a predatory smile.

You had him. 

You immediately turned tail, squealing as you sprinted across the snowy lawn. You did your best to dodge pallets and crates as he gave chase, the thudding of his heavy footsteps keeping pace with your rabbiting heart. You just managed to reach the front door when he grabbed you from behind. 

He spun you about. The chase left you panting, but not nearly as much as the sight of him. His eyes, hot and alight with want, greedily roved over you. His broad chest heaved as he pushed you back against the door frame; he brought his hands to rest heavily against the column of your neck. Your throat bobbed under the possessive weight, and he hummed appreciatively as he drew your face up to claim his prize. The feral, bruising kiss stole what little oxygen remained in your lungs and left your mind deliciously hazy. 

His thumb roughly grazed your cheek; he dropped a quick kiss on your forehead before your world turned over. His low, chesty growl rumbled through your bones as he tossed you over his shoulder. Even upside down, you could see the dents his rugby boots left on the bottom of the door when he kicked it open.

You half-heartedly tried to squirm out of his grip, which earned you a playful slap on the arse when he crossed the threshold. “Never too busy for this.”

[idyllicwillowtree]

A Good Pair (of Skates)

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, afab!reader, rollerskater!reader, y/n

Summary: Steve’s in love with his childhood best friend and he does everything he can to keep his feelings a secret from you. A roller skating injury might change that.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: swearing, friends to lovers, injury, broken bones, mutual pining, road rage, he want you to have his babies, hurt x comfort, use of y/n

Author’s note: My first fic! I broke both my arms while roller skating (but I was by myself) so this is loosely based on true events!

part 2 | main masterlist

Part 1:

“Hey! Settle it down, you’re gonna scare away all my customers,” Steve ordered in his signature “dad tone” as he whipped open the glass door at Family Video.

Mike and Will were seated at the dark green bench outside the store while Dustin was standing and waving his arms frantically. They were all arguing about different Dungeons and Dragons strategies, a game Steve will never understand. It’s not like he hasn’t tried playing before but he just couldn’t get into it, much to Dustin’s disappointment. 

“I don’t think you want us to leave, Steve,” Will commented, sharing a knowing smile with Mike and Dustin.

“Oh yeah, Byers? And why not?” Robin said, popping out from behind Steve. The working duo didn’t really want them to leave, though. They were in desperate need of a distraction so they could survive the last hour of their shift.

Dustin raised a brow, “because our ride happens to be your favorite customer, Steve.”

Steve finally took the time to look up at the mostly vacant parking lot, surprisingly quiet on this nice summer evening. A beautiful golden color lit up the end of the day as the sun was getting ready to set. The sharp ka-thumps of a basketball caught his attention next. Lucas was patiently teaching El how to dribble and pass the ball a few yards away from them. She was taking it very seriously, eyebrows pinched in concentration as she listened to her friend.

“Yeah, well as much as I like those two, I don’t think-” Steve abruptly cut himself off, realizing they don’t have a car, they can’t even drive yet, duh. His eyes slowly widened as he heard his favorite sound in the world. 

Your laughter filled the air as you zoomed past the group at an alarming speed, Max gliding quickly behind you. 

“Hey! You’re cheating,” the redhead exclaimed with a laugh.

“There’s no rules in drag racing, Mayfield” you teased. 

“There’s no rollerskating in drag racing either,” she quipped back.

Steve realized Max was on her skateboard and you were wearing your famous roller skates, the tan and worn out boots you’ve had ever since your feet stopped growing. He once offered to get you new ones for your birthday, fearing for the safety of your ankles, but you had declined. It’s not like you couldn’t afford new skates, he just thought you deserved something new and nice. But you liked what you were familiar with.

We’ve been together for so long! If I were to get new ones it would almost feel like cheating! You laughed, trying to be serious, but even you knew how silly that sounded. 

Fine, just don’t come crawling to me when your ankles snap in half!

Okay fine, I guess I won't! You playfully shoved at his chest.

Wait, wait, you can come to me. I'll just have to give you a lot of shit for it though.

Deal. 

Stubbornness was an ugly trait in most people but you managed to make it beautiful. You did that with the majority of the things in Steve’s life. No matter how horrible his day is, one look from you and all the ugliness of the world would simply melt away. Every look, every shoulder graze, every embrace, he’d treasure it. He treasured you.

Steve was brought back to reality by an uncomfortable intrusion in his ear. 

“Damn it, Robin!” He swiped at the pencil she was trying to stick there, “I told you to quit doing that.”

“But you make it so easy,” she teased, basking in the validation of the other kids’ snickering.

Robin started messing with Steve when she realized he would fall into a bit of a trance when he was busy admiring you. Placing small pieces of trash in his hair, sticking candy up his nose, things like that. It made his blood boil, mostly because it was frustrating to be stuck in a hypnotic-state of love without actually being with the person he’s in love with, and all his friends were there to witness it. This was made worse by their incessant teasing. He hated himself for being so obvious, that meant it was only a matter of time before you figured it out and would hate him for it. Steve figured you’d want nothing to do with him if he tried to change the dynamic that you already had, but it was getting increasingly difficult to mask his affection for you.

“Hey guys,” you said breathlessly as you rolled over to the group. He did the quickest glance to your heaving chest, hoping his eyes were fast enough for no one to notice. “Hi, Steve,” she added, causing Steve to send you a dopey smile.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you guys up to today?” Steve said, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady and casual.

“Oh you know, just lugging the crew around,” you gestured towards your trusty yellow ‘67 Volkswagen Kleinbus. Giant enough to fit all your friends. How’d he manage to miss that? Every time he hears the gentle purr of your car’s motor he’d come running, but the walkman he was listening to earlier must’ve drowned it out. “Thought we’d pay you guys a visit and maybe pick up a movie.”

“That’s good ‘cause we’ve got plenty of those,” Steve awkwardly jokes. He missed the door frame as he moved to lean on it but he’s hoping he saved it well enough for you not to notice.

It took only a second before a loud laugh bubbled up from your throat, causing you to let out more of a snort than the dainty giggle you were going for. Everyone else stayed quiet, not appreciating the joke as much as you did. Mike looked downright disgusted by Steve’s attempt at humor, but that didn’t matter as long as he got a chance to hear you laugh.

“You guys should come over after work and watch with us,” you said excitedly. “My parents are gone for the weekend so we get the whole place to ourselves.”

“We would just LOVE that, wouldn’t we Steve?” Robin gripped his shoulder and shook it with more force than was necessary.

“Y-yeah that sounds like a great idea, we’re definitely in.”

“Great,” you beamed at him. You pulled out a couple of bucks out of your jean short pockets and handed them to Will, “Will makes the final call on the movie decision, no exceptions.” Dustin and Mike groaned in response. “Don’t give me that! Unless you two can finally agree on something then you can choose, but Will’s the only one who actually thinks about what the group would want. They don’t call him Will the Wise for nothing.” The boy’s ears and cheeks turned a bold shade of pink, embarrassed by the positive attention he was getting from someone he looked up to so much. 

“Will calls himself that,” Dustin grumbled.

“No talking back Dustin,” Steve added cheekily.

You sent Steve a goofy smile as Dustin harrumphed in protest. 

Max got impatient by the lack of attention you had on her. Instead of using her words she hooked her fingers into your back belt loop and started wheeling you away. “Make sure they stay in line, Harrington,” you said, ignoring the redhead as you continued being pulled backwards.

“I’m on it, Y/L/N,” he saluted. You giggled and turned around to playfully scold Max about her manners.

You and Steve had always had this good-natured mom and dad role in the group. The younger of the kids appropriately nicknamed your bus the “mom-mobile” as you’ve taken it upon yourself to carpool them around the entire town whenever they asked. When Steve had work, you were the driver but Steve made sure he was the one behind the wheel whenever he was around. It’s not like you were a bad driver, he just wanted you to relax and focus on picking the music. 

He would imagine being an actual dad with you by his side whenever he was in the driver's seat. Steve couldn’t help but fantasize about how you’d be as a real mom. So supportive and sweet, but strict and protective when you needed to be. You took your role as group mom very seriously. Going as far as to remember and plan everyone’s birthdays, making sure everyone ate food and drank water, and you would even volunteer to make extravagant Halloween costumes for them. Steve would chastise you for spoiling them too much but you’d just shake your head at him and smile. It was just as nice for you to spread the love as it was to be on the receiving end of it. 

You and Steve grew up near each other and have been friends since he saw you skating around in circles on his street. It was a warm spring day when he saw you out his window. You stumbled every so often but never managed to fully fall. His parents weren’t home and he decided to just start biking alongside you. When you spotted him you lit up and shyly asked him his name. 

‘I’m Steve, do you want to be friends? I have a pool!’

Relationships were so much simpler back then.

Your parents, much like Steve’s, were never really around. You both bonded over your lack of parental supervision. Birthdays and holidays were always spent making sure the other one wasn’t alone. Even when Steve started to become more focused on popularity, he always made sure to find time to make you feel loved and special. Steve felt so lucky that they were both welcomed into their new group of friends together. This ‘found family’ would not be the same to him if you weren’t a part of it.

You were always one step ahead of Steve, anticipating everyone’s emotional needs before he could. He knew for certain that he wanted someone like you for his future children. Steve convinced himself that there had to be other women out there who were just as equally thoughtful and patient as you, but deep down he knew no one could compare. The longing he felt for you was resting heavily on his heart, but he had to resist so he didn’t ruin your friendship. It was 10 years in the making, all you had were each other. He couldn’t risk losing the one thing that anchored him just because he was having romantic feelings.

He stood there in the Family Video doorway for a few more minutes, watching as you gracefully circle Max, making it look like you were walking forward while actually moving backwards. He admired the way the golden sun spread across your body and the way it magically transforms your eyes into a whole different color. 

Steve used to be nervous about your lack of safety gear when you would go out skating but once he saw you in action after you practiced more he loosened up a bit. The skates were like an extension of you, anyone who watched you would see that. Your passion shining through as you glided around the parking lot, occasionally flowing into a beautiful spin. Those were Steve’s favorites to watch, your hair would splay out with the movement, the colors of your outfit blending together, and your arms pumping you around and eventually being placed in a delicate pose as your momentum picked up. 

You’d make it look so easy and smooth that even Steve believed he could emulate the grace you possessed on wheels. He has tried before, much to your delight, but it was definitely harder than it looked considering he ended up with two bloody elbows and a fat lip. At least you were there to patch him up afterwards. Hating the sting of the alcohol wipes but enjoying the excuse to be close to you and to have your delicate fingers on his skin. 

Robin managed to get a Red Vine part way up his nose without him noticing before he dramatically smacked it away. He spun towards her ready to give her a piece of his mind when suddenly your terrified voice broke through the peaceful evening.

“MAX! LOOK OUT!”

Steve turned just in time to see you yank the young girl backwards by the back of her bright blue t-shirt. You successfully pulled her away from a pick up truck that was going way too fast in the parking lot. You weren’t able to save Max’s skateboard as the car drove right over it, splintering it to pieces. You both landed on your backs, Max not hitting the ground as hard as you did since you were still on wheels. The man driving continued on at the same speed and even had the audacity to stick his hand out the window to flip the girls off.

El’s instincts took over and she stopped the truck with her powers, causing steam to smoke through the front of the vehicle. The man stepped out in a rage.

“What the FUCK?!” he bellowed in anger, confused by the sudden damage to his precious car.

“Robin, call Hopper!” Steve called out before sprinting towards you two. He needed to make sure everyone was protected from this angry man so he could focus on making sure you and Max were okay, he could trust Hopper to do just that. 

He ran as fast as he could, Lucas trailing closely behind him, basketball forgotten. Max sat up slowly and looked at you with worry in her eyes, you were still laying in the same spot on the ground, frozen.

“Shit! Are you guys okay?” Steve panted as he came to stop in front of you. Lucas was already helping the redhead up and gently brushing the dirt from her clothes. “Y/N?” Steve questioned gently. Your eyes were open, at least you were conscious. It looked like you were processing what had just happened, “Hey doll, are you hurt?”

The nickname made your eyes snap to his brown ones, with a shaky voice you said, “oh, uhh, hi Steve…I don’t think so…”

That wasn’t very convincing.

“I’m gonna sit you up now, okay?” Steve communicated clearly.

You nodded slowly at him, giving silent permission for him to help you. He reached behind your upper back and gripped your hand gently.

“Shit,” you hissed as he pulled you to sit.

“Shit - sorry - shit! What hurts, doll? I’m so sorry,” Steve said, chastising himself for not being more careful.

“It’s okay, Steve. I think I just landed on my arms wrong.”

His eyes scanned your arms, he stopped himself from touching you in case he caused you more pain. Your limbs were at their normal shapes, no bones sticking out at unnatural angles or anything obvious like that. But the way you sat there with your arms still, making sure you didn’t jostle yourself, indicated to Steve that you weren’t okay. He had participated in enough sports over the years to recognize the panicked look of someone who had just broken a bone. Steve’s big hands were hovering around your upper body, unsure of what to do. You missed the warmth they transferred to you when he helped you sit up.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Max told you quietly, kneeling down to your level.

You plastered a big smile to your face and in an overly patronizing tone you said, “oh little Miss Max, you’re so silly. Of course I had to.” 

She rolls her eyes with a soft smile, appreciative of your selfless act but still nervous about your condition. You tried to reach out to her but your arms weren’t responding, this caused your smile to drop and Steve’s anxiety to spike. 

Robin was dealing with the irresponsible driver after getting off the phone with Hopper, who was thankfully on his way. The man was convinced that you and Max had something to do with his car breaking down and was yelling at Robin about it. Mike and El stood behind her as back up in case she needed it before police could arrive. 

“Shitshitshitshitshit...” The familiar sound of Dustin’s repetitive cursing became louder and louder as he got closer with Will by his side.

“Are you guys okay?” Will said, brows pinched in concern.

Max responded, “I’m fine, but Y/N isn’t.”

“SHIT,” screeched Dustin, causing Steve to flinch slightly. He swiped a hand over his face in frustration.

“I’m fine guys, seriously. I just…I just can’t really move my arms, no big deal,” you mumbled the last part, still trying to diffuse everyone’s worry.

“Alright that’s it, we're going to the hospital,” Steve said sternly, making the call to get you professional help. He began untying the frayed laces of your skates and sliding them off your feet. Will silently went to retrieve your Reebok sneakers that you had stashed in your Volkswagen. 

“What?! No Steve, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Steve was already lifting you to a standing position by your hips, not wasting any more time. “You’re hurt and we have to get you help.” 

“I’m fine, Steve, I just need to sleep it off and I’ll be good as n-new,” you said as you tried your hardest to straighten your right elbow, your left wrist not doing any better. There was blood and dirt into your palms, evidence of where you landed. As a skater you know that you’re not supposed to stick your arms out when you fall but your instinct to protect Max took over.

You were actually convinced it wasn’t that big a deal. Adrenaline was still coursing through you so you weren’t able to fully feel how messed up your bones felt. You assumed it was at most just a sprain that you could easily nurse on your own at home. You barely ever get hurt, this is a whole new experience for you. Even when the group was out fighting monsters and Russians, you had managed to make it out mostly unscathed every single time, much to Steve’s relief.

Steve’s grip stayed planted on your hips. If anyone said anything he’d claim it was just to make sure you didn’t tip over, and that might be the case but in reality it was mostly to keep you close to him. “Sweetheart, your arms could be broken. We have to go,” he stated gently.

 “I don’t-...broken?” You had a rebuttal already queued up in your mind before processing what Steve had said. Once he mentioned the “b-word” your nerves started seeping in to replace the adrenaline in your veins and it became more real. Will handed your shoes to Steve and he bent down to slip them on your feet, carefully making sure you didn’t fall in the process. You tried placing your left hand on his shoulder to steady yourself but instead you winced at the dull ache in your wrist.

Steve stood at his full height and was prepared to counter your arguments so he could get your stubborn self to the hospital, “we need-.”

“Okay,” you surrendered softly, glancing up at his eyes before looking down at your shoes. They were equally as worn out as your skates. 

Steve allowed himself to be surprised for only a second before jumping into action. He plucked the “mom-mobile” keys out of your pocket by the colorful braided lanyard that was sticking out of your jeans and started escorting you towards his BMW, hands back on your waist.

“Give these to Robin, she’ll drive you guys home” he said tossing your keys to Lucas. That was the first time since you fell that he took his gaze off of you. 

He wished he hadn’t. 

Steve witnessed how upsetting this was for the group of young teens which made his heart hurt even more. 

Dustin wore his heart out on his sleeve so he was openly letting the tears flow down his cheeks into his quivering chin, while Max was trying her hardest to keep the tears from escaping as she watched you carefully. Lucas looked at how gentle yet strong Steve was being towards you and tried to mirror that with Max. Poor Will looked like he was going to yak all over himself. Sure, they all have the shared trauma of fighting actual monsters, but this was so normal that it almost scared them more. Almost. Seeing a man who is just a man, not some sort of evil supernatural creature or mad scientist, do something so inhumane was very alarming.

Now wasn’t the time to comfort the young teens, as much as Steve might want to, but his focus had to be on you. He knew they could handle themselves, they’ve proven it time and time again. 

Steve was leading you towards his BMW but unfortunately, you two had to walk past the man from the truck in order to get there. Luckily, Robin had been defending you and giving the driver a piece of her mind. Robin’s tactic was to just keep talking at the man, leaving him angry and confused, not able to get a word in. Steve trusted that Robin could handle it until Hopper arrived.

“Robin, you’re gonna have to close up. I’m taking Y/N to the hospital.”

El gasped but you sent her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes, but it was enough to let her know you’ll be fine.

Steve made eye-contact with the driver, sending him the most intimidating look he could muster. He couldn’t stop the rage from building inside his chest as he looked at the poor excuse for a man. He wore grimy overalls that strained against the pressure of his beer-belly. There was a sweat stained t-shirt underneath the denim that Steve assumed used to be white. His patchy beard, that was filled with crumbs, barely hid his excitement at seeing you hurt. 

“That’s what happens when dumb broads like you mess with my truck,” he commented gravelly, still convinced that you and Max were at fault for breaking his clunky vehicle.

Steve felt you tense beside him and before Steve could launch himself at the man, he heard sirens in the distance and decided to let Hopper handle it. His focus needed to be on getting you medical help.

Steve continued with you towards his car and opened the passenger door, gently helping you settle in the familiar spot. The smell of leather and stale coffee would usually envelop you in comfort, sending you into a calm and relaxed state. Being in this spot meant you were with your best friend, but for now all you could focus on was the pain continuing to blossom throughout your arms

Before closing the door Steve knelt down on the ground next to you, trying to catch your eye. They were dancing across the dashboard, not really focusing on it. He could see all the bad thoughts swarming through your head by the look in your eyes alone. 

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do that. Everything’s going to be okay, I’m right here.” Steve placed a warm hand on your knee and it grounded you immediately. Your wide eyes moved to look over at him. You sniffed before nodding, not trusting your voice at the moment. 

Without thinking, Steve used his unoccupied hand to hold your cheek softly and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, hoping to scare away the demons swimming around in your mind. 

His heart plummeted when he realized what he was doing. It might have been a little too intimate to just kiss you like that without even asking first and he was nervous that he broke some sort of boundary with you. Steve anticipated a headbutt for crossing that line as he slowly pulled away, he would’ve expected a slap if your arms had been working. 

But what Steve did not expect was for you to let out the gentle breath you had been holding and for the tension in your shoulders to dissolve.He looked into your eyes and saw nothing but relief.

“Thanks, Stevie.” You smiled sweetly at him. 

“No problem, sugar,” he breathed out, overwhelmed by the love blossoming in his chest. Steve couldn’t help but blush violently when you called him ‘Stevie’. He still had your cheek in his hand so he began to stroke it softly with his thumb.  He didn’t miss the way your gaze stayed on him. He watched you back and noticed a new freckle on the bridge of your nose that caused the butterflies in his stomach to flap even more aggressively. 

Suddenly, remembering the task at hand, he cleared his throat and helped you with your seatbelt. He closed the passenger door and ran around to the driver’s side. Wasting no time in pulling out of his parking spot and driving towards the town’s emergency room, carefully avoiding Hopper’s cop car on the way out.

part 2 | main masterlist

[thetruearchmagos]

Swift Seas And Whirlwinds

An Excerpt: Prologue

Hey folks, Arch here, with a little Prose written on a sudden whim. I've had a a few vague ideas of what I'd like to see someday in a novelisation of SSAW for some time, and one of them pertained to what might go into a 'Prologue' of the first book. Here, that idea's been put to words!

Tagging @athenswrites @theprissythumbelina @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @thatndginger @username-cause-i-need-one @avrablake @coffeexafterxmidnight @nerdexer @lividdreamz

They came for him in the morning. 

Three cars, jet black with tinted windows, glided down the road on St. Quentin Street. This early, the ordinarily busy thoroughfare was empty and lifeless, cast in shadow and the dim light of dawn. The storefronts on the street were still shuttered, and with their lights turned out. 

Except for one. 

The Cafe Dubois wasn’t open for business just yet, but its first customer of the day was already enjoying his breakfast. Seated at a table along the window facing the street, Captain Girauld Castex enjoyed his black coffee and buttered toast, and the show slowly unfurling across the street.

The motorcade pulled along the curb opposite the cafe, coming to a stop in front of a stately brown townhouse just like all the others on the block. The sound of their breaks screeched into the still air, followed quickly by their doors, which opened in unison. 

The men who stepped out of the cars moved with just as much measured efficiency. The fore and aft cars discharged three each, the one in the centre letting out just two. After all, it had to leave an empty seat.

Once they’d formed up in the windy street, they set off towards the house in two lines. All were dressed sharply in black, under black hats, but those pulling up the rear pulled out batons from under their coats.

Castex heard a small noise coming from behind him, distracting him from the scene. It was Mr Dubois himself, standing behind the counter, leaning himself against it for support with his right fist to his mouth. The Captain ignored him.

The man in front rang the doorbell, though Castex certainly couldn’t hear anything. After a moment’s pause, he would, as the smashed point man smashed the door in with two hard kicks. The assembled mass surged through with all the power of a tidal wave, sweeping through and into the home.

The next few minutes were, no doubt, a period of frenetic, vicious action, tearing through all three stories of the fine estate. Castex couldn’t see anything past shadows against closed curtains, or hear anything beyond the occasional crash of something smashing to the ground, but he nonetheless knew every move and every act taking place within those four walls. He knew it in his bones, with all the certainty of a conductor playing the same score for the five hundredth time.

It was all over by the time Castex finished his cup of coffee. Silence reigned as the first rays of dawn’s light cast themselves down the road, and the eight men swept through the shattered door frame the other way, with one more tightly penned in between them. The new figure, forced into the cool morning still in his underclothes, held his head low and hands covering his face as best he could. They each returned to their respective vehicles, the ninth man wedged between the two in the centre car. Then, with all the fanfare with which they came, they slipped into the slowly waking gloom.

“Another coffee, if you please.”

Castex heard no reply, and with an exaggerated groan worthy of his station turned once again to Monsieur Dubois. He hadn’t moved an inch in three minutes, frozen as still as stone. 

“A coffee, Monsieur.”

At last, the man’s lips moved, though his words barely crawled out of his throat.

“Monsieur Capitaine… Monsieur Allard, he—”

“Will receive his due as a criminal, and no more, yes. And so shall you, good sir.”

Castex could see the pasty man turn even more pale, if such a thing were possible.

“Sir, I…I only—”

“You did your duty for your country and countrymen, and for that the People owe you a great debt. Approach the local magistrate, the same man you gave your little ‘tip’ to, and I’ll see to it that our nation’s gratitude is adequately expressed.”

The Captain smiled, though it probably did little to calm the man’s silent terror. Dubois pulled away from the counter and to his feet. Without the support, he seemed almost to curl in on himself, shrinking in stature before turning away, wordlessly, into the back of his cafe.

“And get me another coffee!”

Castex couldn’t help himself. Sometimes, he loved his job.

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY Christmas Tales

Pursuit of Death Part 1

Two cars drove out of control in the streets of downtown Kuroyuri. Both of them skidded along the road, swerving just outside of the Merchant Bank of Takara. The doors opened as a large group of thugs, all masked and armed, walked out. One of them drew a flashbang from his belt and tossed it at the guards. The guards quickly raised their guns, only to be blinded and shot at by the other thugs.

Thug 1: Hmph, too easy. Let's go. The boss is expecting a big withdrawal.

They strolled inside and the larger thug fired a warning shot, sending everyone into a panic. The leader pointed his gun at the staff.

Thug 1: Don't even think about calling security! One push of the button and you get a bullet to the head!

The bank worker hesiated and put his arms up. Several of the thugs started ambushing the customers, tying them in binds and dragging them against the wall. The leader of the gang turned his attention back to the banker, keeping a firm grip on his pistol.

Banker: W-What do you want?

Thug 1: I'm here for an early Christmas present. Me and the boys here would like a million Lien. Each. Do that, and we'll let you live. But if you try to call the cops on us, well, let's just say things will get really ugly.

The banker had no choice but to comply. He and the rest of the staff filled up ten bags with 1 million Lien and handed them over to the thugs. Outside of the building were several police cars of the Kuroyuri Police Squad, supervised by Police Sergeant Clover Ebi. Next to him was Senior Police Officer Hachiko.

Clover: What do we know about this, Hachiko?

Hachiko: It looks to be hostage situation, sir. They've demanded 10 million Lien, most likely unmarked.

Clover: *sigh* All that fuss for petty cash... and on Christmas Eve no less.

Meanwhile, atop a building just opposite the Takara Bank, leaned a figure dressed in black and purple. She was the infamous vigilante of Kuroyuri: Dark Huntress.

Dark Huntress: *places finger next to ear* Glynda, can you see any other entry points to the Takara Bank?

Glynda: There should one of two doors that lead to the roof. I'd recommend the one to your left. Good luck, Miss Belladonna.

Dark Huntress took a grapple gun from the right side of her belt and fired it at one of the railings. Activating a switch on top of the grapple, it tugged her sharply towards the building. Just before she could hit the railing, she jumped onto the roof. She retrieved her grapple gun and made her way towards the wall opposite adjacent to the door. Now was a good time to test out her new gadget; the explosive gel. She lightly sprayed over the wall and stood back. Pressing the detonator, the wall broke open and she stepped inside. Walking down the steps, Dark Huntress noticed the door barred. Beside it was a keypad, easily hackable. She took out a small, rectangular device; the cryptographic sequencer, and began to decode. Going through the various combinations, she was finally through and the door opened. Dark Huntress opened it to find the main lobby, where the thugs had the hostages cornered. The leader of the group was furious.

Thug 1: Who the hell called the cops?! Was it you?

Banker 2: No I didn't, I swear-

Thug 1: *hits banker* Don't lie to me! Oh that's it, ya dead!

The leader put his bullet on the trigger and was about to fire. However, as quick as a flash, the gun flew out of his hand. A fist landed in his face as Dark Huntresses glided down. The rest of the thugs were caught by surprise and she used that to her advantage. She grabbed her batarangs and threw all of them at six of the thugs. Dark Huntress went into action and attacked. Two of them were punched in the jaw and kicked to the side, while she hit two more with her cape as a distraction and beat them down furiously. The next two tried to attack her from behind but were elbowed in the chest and kicked down. The remaining four reached for their guns. Dark Huntress covered her mouth as she dropped a smoke bomb on the floor. In the confusion, they all started firing senselessly, terrifying the hostages even more. Dark Huntress began taking them down one by one. Punches, kicks, knees and elbows all made devastating impact and the thugs fell to the ground, bruised and disoriented. As the smoke cleared, Dark Huntress approached the hostages and asserted her claws. The hostages all closed their eyes in fear, only to realise that their binds had been cut loose.

Dark Huntress: *pants* Is everyone alright?

Civilian: Y-Yes. T-Thank you, Dark Huntress.

Dark Huntress: The cops are waiting outside. Go to them.

The civilians evacuated the building as the bankers put their money back in the safe and Dark Huntress bound the gang together. She raised her grapple gun and shot it at the railing, flying towards it. She exited the way she came in and heard a sinister laugh as soon as her foot touched the snow. She turned and looked up, her eyes shrinking with fear. It was a redhaired bull faunus with two, light blue eyes, wearing black and red armour. On his back, he carried a metal bō staff and two chokutō.

Dark Huntress: A-Adam?

Adam: I knew that would get your attention.

Dark Huntress: You planned the robbery?

Adam: That's right. I provided those fools with the bare minimum and it worked. You haven't lost your touch. Your tenacity, your fury. Just as when you first came to us. And tonight, it's just you and me.

Dark Huntress: *clenches fist*

Adam: Come on!

[aiglesperch]

Writing Prompt #1 - Outside the Window

Photo by Matteo Catanese on Unsplash

It rains down the pale-wood window.

Mist hits the city as raindrops descend down into the tar-laden road, brick tiles, washes down the concrete of the nearby wall, bounces off the feathers of a dove gliding down the snow-hued sky to perch on a high-raise office building's railings, its companions lying in wait for the rains to subside so that they can fly in search of food and shelter.

A murder of crows flock down the branches of the tree nearby.

One among them croaks at the nearby biker clad in rainsuit before realising that its attempts are futile and that the man won't be deterred by a mere bird, and flies up to meet its brothers and caw en masse. The biker hits a dog, who yelps and reaches to bite the man.

He mutters a colourful amount of swears before taking his bike down the highway road, ignoring the animal.

The rain drips down the asphalt sheets, which serve as roofs, of the flower shop down the street. The middle-aged woman, clad in a colourful saree and sporting a cluster of marigolds and jasmine tied at the back of her bun, looks at the skies exasperated, wishing the temporary nuisance to end.

Her flowers are tucked in plastic bags, pink and the usual pale ones. However, it is wise to say that they should be sold soon, lest they wilt.

Her gaze now strikes the peeling posters stuck on the dilapidated wall and a coffee-shop nearby, recognisable by the milk vessel and the ladle the burly shopkeeper holds to pour the boiling decaf into a tumbler, to which he adds the hot milk and sugar, and pours it tumbler-to-vattai and likewise. This, he serves to his patron and turns to listen to the news channel served from YouTube via his phone.

A man drags from the cigarette he's holding and lets out smoke, a matching combination to the fog the rain brings forth. He chats with the nearby man in an intimidating fashion.

His next customer is a man descending from a bike. Rain has washed off the blood from his front wheel. He too orders a warm glass of coffee and a packet of chips for his son as he handles his phone against his ear.

He sips and looks at the torrential downpour, listening to a 60's film's music along with the shopkeeper.

He then gets on his bike and without even sparing the men a glance thunders down the rickety road.

[qwertywrites]

The Hallway Mirror

description: i literally wrote this for english class and was proud so decided to post it here lol. prompt was 'gothic literature using the motif of a reflection' if that helps

When Mother saw me in my new gown this afternoon, she’d said that I looked like a beautiful swan. When Estelle Beaumont glided into the lavishly decorated ballroom, blonde curls cascading over her shoulders, I’m fairly certain I bore more resemblance to a duck. 

Mortified by my complete and utter plainness, I retreated into the crowd, aiming to slink away to a corner where I could glower at my cousin from a distance. As most of the people present were preoccupied with the way Estelle’s dress sparkled in the light of the candelabra overhead, I found it an easy task. Although Mother had expressly forbidden me from leaving the ballroom– “It’s all well and good for you to run off at other people’s events, but we are hosting tonight and you are not to make us look foolish, Jane Reynolds!”– she had not forbidden watching from the side like the pathetic duck I was. 

Unfortunately, keen eyesight was among Estelle’s many blessings. 

“Jane, darling! You must come and see the ring that Lord Wethershaw proposed with,” her joyful voice called, soaring over the crowd. Reluctantly, I turned, plastering a grin on my face and widening my eyes in false glee as Estelle rushed to my side. With a giggle, she thrust her left hand towards my face. 

“Look!” she squealed, waggling her ring-adorned finger at me. It was gorgeous, the thin silver band topped with a stunning pink diamond, a legion of small white gemstones encircling it like soldiers guarding their queen. Lord Wethershaw must have known her well– it fitted perfectly. The small crowd that had gathered around ooh-ed and aah-ed their admiration, and I forced myself to join in. 

“Oh, Estelle, it is simply beautiful! Of course,” I added with a stiff laugh, “so is the rest of you. Wouldn’t you all agree?” Again, the crowd gushed their approval, Estelle’s cheeks flushed pink in delight, and I took that as my cue to leave. 

Alas, despite all Estelle’s charm, she seemed unable to recognise that I did not desire to be within a two-hundred-mile radius of festivities– particularly ones related to her, my cousin who was getting married first despite being a year my junior. 

“Jane, I adore your gown! Where did you get it?” 

Heat rushed to my face. What point was she trying to make? There she stood, in a custom-made gown that rustled elegantly as she floated across the ballroom floor, and she was complimenting my dress. She was better than me in every way, yet still felt the need to offer me a pity tribute as salt in the wound– what sick satisfaction could she get out of that? I felt myself begin to panic, my heart beating so fast it could’ve been trying out for the Kentucky Derby as the gathered audience waited expectantly for my answer. 

In a futile attempt at composing myself, I gestured vaguely before managing to stammer out “I, uh, don’t quite remember. I should go–” before fleeing the scene, ducking and weaving my way through the throng of people to get to the large oak doors. Ignoring the confused looks from the crowd, I slipped through the gap, and escaped their judgemental eyes. Immediately, the oppressive heat in my face eased, and the gallops of my heartbeats slowed to a nervous trot. 

I glanced back at the doors to the ballroom, but couldn’t bring myself to go back inside that glittering hellscape. Certain that I had made a fool of myself, I desperately looked around for the nearest escape. Luckily, the ballroom was near the exit, and a mere hallway was the road to my freedom. My steps were quiet as I hastened for the door, the plush carpet beneath my feet swallowing the click of my heels. 

As I got further from the ballroom, the light drained until the hallway was nearly pitch-black. The weak flickers of the wall-mounted candles didn’t do much to dispel the shadows creeping down from the ceiling, and a sudden chill penetrated the air, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Still, all that did nothing to quench the relief flowing through me. I couldn’t wait to be out of there, away from Estelle and her perfect life that served no purpose but to remind me how pitiful my own was in comparison. 

The door was in front of me. I reached a hand out to grasp the gilded handle. Before I could, however, the image of a pale face in the corner of my eye alarmed me, and I whirled around to see—

The reflection of my own face. 

Of course, I remembered. Mother had hung a full-body mirror by the door so guests could inspect themselves upon arrival. I hadn’t paid much attention to it earlier. As a rule, I avoided mirrors; reminders of my inadequacy were not something I was normally fond of. This time, however, something compelled me to lean in closer, my nose hovering inches away from the girl in the mirror. 

She was a homely creature, with mousy hair hanging limp and flat from her oddly-shaped head and thin, pinched lips that naturally twisted in a spinsterly frown. Most of her other features were similarly dour, but it was her eyes that were the worst– small, dark, beady things encircled by the dark rings acquired by late nights spent reading by candlelight or fretting about whatever took her fancy. Really, it was no wonder she- I- would die an old maid, I thought. The exit long forgotten, I tilted my head left and right, watching the girl do the same. While I internally listed her faults, a strange flicker crossed my reflection’s face. It vanished so quickly, however, that I dismissed it as a trick of the light. 

The longer I looked into those eyes, the more an unfamiliar emotion bubbled in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t quite place it, but it steadily grew, becoming all-consuming. It was only when the face in the mirror contorted into an expression I’d never seen before that I recognised what it was– pure, unadulterated loathing. 

I loathed the girl in the mirror. I despised that her features had cursed me with this life, that she was too dull and homely to ever let me taste happiness. A scream of rage tried to claw up my throat, but I suppressed it. Yes, I sorely wanted to smash the horrible reflection that pursued me wherever I went, but what good would that do?

Still staring into my eyes, I raised a trembling hand to the mirror and pressed my palm flat against the cold glass. A triumphant gleam sparked inside my reflection’s eyes, and I scarcely had time to wonder where it came from before her clammy fingers intertwined with mine and I was yanked forwards. The still lake of the mirror’s surface parted easily and I was falling, further than should have been possible, and the world swirled around me like a kaleidoscope until I landed with a thud on an identical floor surrounded by identical furniture. Bewildered, I looked up at the mirror to see my reflection standing straighter than I ever did with a delighted smile I never wore. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. 

My reflection kneeled down until we were face to face again. Head spinning, it was all I could do to sit upright and gape at her, both in confusion and betrayal. She continued to smile, but it had become a cruel, mocking thing. 

“God, you’re pathetic,” she said with my voice, regarding me with disgust. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you, day after day, squander everything that you have because you’ve decided you’re not pretty enough?” 

I weakly attempted to bang on the glass from my newfound prison, to cry for help, but it was to no avail– I couldn’t seem to speak. My reflection seemingly realised this at the same time I did, because her smile widened even further and she stood, brushing her skirts in mock nonchalance. 

“Oh, now you have something to say? I think it’s rather too late for that. You, Jane Reynolds, are a wretched, ungrateful creature, and you would have wasted this life fussing over everything but anything of real importance.”

My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach, the truth a heavy anchor dragging my hopes down with it.

From my new position, I could view her in her entirety, and it struck me that perhaps she wasn’t so plain after all. In fact, with the way the white lace of the neckline threaded across her shoulders and how her long eyelashes framed the deep pools of her irises, she could, under a certain light, even have been considered… appealing. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she announced, “I have a party to attend.” 

With a final, derisive sneer, Jane Reynolds turned and walked away from the mirror, leaving her reflection behind.