#so i guess he just figured i knew already or could handle it

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

They talked about this before it started, that if it got to be much for anything, they would talk about it. Steve would understand. He always did, especially since he was afraid himself. Eddie's panic attacks were happening more frequently, and what happened over spring break was still fresh in everyone's minds. It was difficult for Eddie to breathe, and Steve knew it was coming, and Eddie did too. They could feel it when they touched, kissed, and fucked. They were already mourning a relationship that was never supposed to be serious in the first place. The next morning, Eddie told him that his band wanted to go on the road.

"I figured," Steve said, picking at his blanket.

"You're not mad?" Eddie asked.

"Of course not," Steve said. "This town is killing you, Eddie, I couldn't ask you to stay."

"You could ask," Eddie shrugged.

"You wouldn't say yes, and I wouldn't want you to resent me for staying," Steve said.

"You could come with me," Eddie said.

"You know that I can't leave the kids until they graduate," Steve said.

"And I can?" Eddie asked.

"Yes," Steve said. "You want to go. Do you want to go?"

"I do," Eddie said, swallowing thickly.

"I don't want to hold you back," Steve replied.

"You could never," Eddie said and paused. "I suppose you really can't have it all. You're right, I suppose I can't stay. I know I should have said. . .but I guess you could already tell. This town is killing me and not even you - which is crazy because you're Steve fucking Harrington. You're the most beautiful man alive. Inside and out."

Steve pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring everything he had into it. He could taste salty tears on his tongue. He couldn't tell who was crying more. Steve pulled back with a gasp.

"Eddie, I - " Steve closed his mouth and said nothing.

The next day, they said another goodbye, this time in front of everyone. It wasn't nearly as intimate. No one knew they were fucking. They had still been figuring things out about themselves, and Eddie hadn't been quite ready to label himself or tell anyone. Steve couldn't even tell Robin. The day after Eddie left, Steve took off to another bar outside of Hawkins. He couldn't go to the Hideout, too many memories, and he couldn't explain to people why he was drowning his sorrows. Steve was having a lot more difficult time than he had thought he would, and he respected Eddie's choice but it was killing him that he was gone, that there was an empty spot in his bed. He couldn't even tell Robin why he was so heartbroken. The best thing about this bar was that it was attached to a motel, so he was planning on getting drunk and finding his way to the room he rented. Of course, that's where he met Tiffany, who was just as heartbroken as he was. . .

"Steve, Steeeeve," Robin sang.

"Ugh, Robin, go away, my head is killing me," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's probably because you drank half the motel bar," Robin said.

"How are you here?" He asked, burying his head deeper into the pillow.

"You gave the girl you slept with my phone number, and you told her to let me know if you accidentally died," Robin said.

"I'm not dead," Steve groaned.

"No, but you look it," Robin scoffed. "You're going to need to check out soon."

"Where's - " Steve asked, looking up. "Tiffany?"

"Yeah. She left," Robin said.

"That's probably good for her," Steve said. "Ooh. I'm going to puke. Yeah, no, wait - yeah, I'm going puke."

He slipped out of the bed, butt naked, and ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.

"Jesus, what the hell? I thought you were done with one night stands?" Robin asked.

"I just - yeah, I mean, I was but then - FUCK!" Steve yelled and then he burst into tears.

Robin frowned and grabbed a sheet of the bed, tossing it over him. She cleaned his mouth, sat on the floor, and pulled his head into her lap.

"Steve?" Robin asked. "I know you and Eddie have gotten close, but I didn't think you'd be this upset that he left. Jesus, how are you going to handle me going off to college? Shit, I put my foot in my mouth again, didn't I? Was that a little insensitive? Steve?"

"I'm in love with him," Steve sobbed, and then everything came pouring out. "I'm sorry and shit, I think I need to apologize to Eddie because I shouldn't have told you."

"Hey, hey, slow down. I think he'd understand," Robin said softly. "There's a lot to process here. I'm sorry, babe, I should have known."

"It's not your fault," Steve said. "I'm just so stupid."

"It's not your fault either," Robin said. "It was just a sticky situation for the both of you. And if you ever call my best friend stupid again, I'm going to beat you up. Only I'm allowed to call you a dingus, okay?"

"Okay," Steve said and laughed.

"Come on, let's get you home. . .dingus," Robin said.

Steve smiled. She always said dingus like she was saying I love you. God, she was his best friend.

"Dingus," Steve said, and Robin laughed.

"You're so drunk," she giggled. "Come on, Popeye."

It was a difficult time for Steve over the next few months, even more difficult than when he got over Nancy Wheeler. Maybe because he had allowed himself to be more vulnerable than he ever had with Nancy, and maybe in doing so, he had fallen harder for Eddie. With Robin's help, he was able to move forward. It helped that he had sold and moved out of his parents' place. They didn't think he could sell the place, but he proved them wrong. And with the money, he was able to tuck a lot of it away and move into a comfortable two bedroom apartment, an apartment that he was allowed to decorate however he wanted. After nearly a year, he was in a good place when things decided to turn upside down again for Steve. We'll, roughly 9 months later, to be a little more precise. . .

"Oh my god! I can't believe you forgot to buy me my favorite chips! After I came all this way to visit you!" Robin yelled.

"If you would move stuff around, you'll find them!" Steve exclaimed as he set up the movie.

"Oh, there they are! I knew you still loved me," Robin said.

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin came into the living room, her arms laden with snacks. She unceremoniously dumped them on the table.

"I'm glad you were able to pull yourself away from Vickie long enough to visit me before heading back to Chicago," Steve said.

"I can prioritize between the romantic love of my life and the platonic love of my life," Robin said.

Steve and Robin snuggled into each other, their matching pajamas firmly in place, as they settled in for the evening. Just as they were about to start the movie, Steve got the phone call. Robin watched as Steve could only give one words answers before finally putting the phone back down, his face pale.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"We're going to have to cut the evening short," Steve said.

"What? But we've been planning this evening for weeks - "

"Robin, I'm a dad."

They drove to Indianapolis, where Tiffany had given birth, and now they were standing in the nursery, staring at the swaddled baby right in front of them. Tiffany had already left the hospital by the time they arrived.

"She's so tiny," Steve said breathlessly.

"And pink," Robin said. "She doesn't have a name yet. Do you have any ideas?"

"I - I don't know," Steve said.

"Do you want to keep her?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I know it's crazy, but I want her," Steve said as he took her hand in his, letting her tiny hand wrap around his finger. "More than anything."

"You think of a name while I take your credit card and go get some supplies for your little chicken nugget," Robin said, squeezing his shoulder. "You're going to be a great dad."

Robin pressed a kiss to his hair, cooed at the baby, and then quickly left them alone. Steve watched his daughter wiggle in her blanket and listened to the noises she made, her little tongue darting out every so often. He watched as her brow furrowed in confusion. It must be so confusing to come into this world, not knowing who you are, where you are, and taken from the only place you've ever known. Steve placed a hand on her chest.

"It's okay, I'm here," Steve whispered, and he smiled when she calmed down a bit.

"You can pick her up, you know," the nurse said.

Steve almost jumped. He forgot he wasn't alone in the room. A friendly faced hispanic nurse was there, chuckling at him.

"I know, I just don't want to - she's so small," Steve said.

"Every good parent is afraid of dropping them," the nurse said. "Come sit over here."

Steve sat down in the rocking chair and watched as she picked up his daughter. He glanced at her name tag. Sofia. She placed the baby carefully into his waiting arms. He gasped in delight, the feeling of holding her overwhelming him in a very good way. Was he crying?

"Thanks, Nurse Sofia," Steve said.

"She looks good in your arms," Sofia said.

"She feels good. Feels right," he muttered. "She's so wonderful. Hey, there. I'm your dad. I know, it's crazy. Don't feel intimated by my hair. You're bald now, kiddo, but it'll grow. . .and even if it doesn't, I'll still love you. . .oh, I'm suddenly terrified. I am going to mess her up."

"Hush, you're going to be fine," Sofia said.

Steve watched as the baby's head started to move around, as though she was looking for something and she started to whimper.

"I think she's hungry," Steve said.

"See? Your instincts are already kicking in," Sofia said.

Steve smiled. Sofia reminded him of both Claudia and Sue. Oh, speaking of them. . .they're going to freak when they find out Steve made them grandmothers. Sophia left to go the formula and came back with it pretty quickly. She showed him how to hold it so the baby wouldn't choke.

"Thank you," Steve said. "I really appreciate it. . .oh, she's really going to town. Yeah, she was hungry."

"She goes after it like my four boys did," Sofia said.

"You have four boys?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah, they're a handful, but I love them. Supposedly, girls are easier, but I think that's bullshit," Sofia scoffed.

"Oh, girls are just as much of a handful. I babysit a group of teenagers," Steve said.

"Then you have some practice under your belt," Sofia said. "I always thought that if I had a girl, I'd name her Elizabeth. Never happened, but I'm happy with my boys, more than enough for me."

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered.

"Does that name mean something to you?" She asked. "It sounds like it."

It was Eddie's mother's name. He remembered him talking about her all the time, how she died when he was six, and how he got his love of his music from her. Eddie always wished he could have had more time with her.

"Elizabeth," Steve whispered to his daughter, and he smiled.

"Elizabeth Robin?"

"Of course, I named her after you," Steve scoffed.

"Oh my sweet little baby bird," Robin cooed. "I can't believe I have to go back to school soon. . .as her godmother, shouldn't I get like godmaternity leave?"

"Yeah, I don't think they do that," Steve said.

"Well, they should," Robin said.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Steve said.

"If you love your child, you would," Robin said. "By the way, Tiffany left you a letter at the front desk. They gave it to me."

Together, they got Elizabeth into the car seat and then into the car with Robin in the driver's seat, bringing her home. . .

Dear Steve,

I hope that night meant a lot to you as it did to me. I wanted to face you and tell you so many times, but I'm kind of a coward. I think we were both very heartbroken that night, and I hope you found the same comfort in me that I did in you. It gave the courage that I needed to face who I truly am.

I feel like something greater than ourselves brought us together that night. I was just a mere vessel. . .I know you wanted to be with someone else. You called out their name, and you said it like a declaration of love. I wasn't meant to be a mother, not yet. This isn't my baby. I hope that everything works out and that you feel it as much as I do. I was glad to help you and be a part of this journey. Don't wait too long to be honest with yourself.

Sincerely, Tiffany

"A mere vessel? What the hell does that mean?" Steve asked.

"Fuck if I know."

A YEAR AND THREE MONTHS LATER. . .

Eddie scowled, his ear pressed to the phone, as Dustin went on about Steve’s new special girl in his life. How many times did Eddie have to say that he didn't want to hear about it? He swore that Dustin's ears were only there for decoration.

"Yeah, yeah, that's great that this Liddie person likes Robin more than you, but I need to tell you something, and you can't say anything to Steve," Eddie said. "You can't say anything to anyone."

"Ooh, a secret, lay it on me, and by the way, her name is - " Dustin started to say.

"Okay, whatever. I don't care. I'm surprising Steve and coming home for his birthday," Eddie said.

"Oh, shit! He'll love that. He's missed you like crazy. We all have," Dustin said. "If you get in late, make sure it's before 7 because that's when he puts her to bed."

"He gives her a bedtime?" Eddie asked.

"Of course, he does! It would be completely irresponsible to let her go to bed whenever she wanted to. She needs a schedule, Eddie," Dustin said.

"That sounds a little controlling, but okay," Eddie said.

"Well, what time would you give her?" He asked.

"I wouldn't give her a bedtime at all!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie! You can't do that!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Look, just don't ruin the surprise, okay?" Eddie asked before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.

Yeah, he was definitely going to win Steve back because, honestly, this new relationship of his sounded a bit messy, and Steve deserved better than that. How much trouble could this girl be that she needed a bedtime? She has to be the one that's trouble. . .right? Steve Harrington couldn't have lost his way. There's no way he would have turned to the dark side after he left. Either way, Eddie needed to intervene.

"Okay, okay, you can do this," Eddie breathed.

He looked at the address written on the piece of paper and checked it again. He was in the right place. He didn't waste any time after visiting with Wayne. Steve’s apartment was his second place to visit. Eddie took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Coming!" Steve yelled, and then he heard muffled laughter from Steve. "Lizzie! Stop barking! You're not a dog! I'm going to have to talk to Robin about teaching you that."

Steve opened the door, and he nearly stumbled back at the sight of Eddie. Steve was wearing sweats and an old t-shirt of Eddie's. . .to Eddie's delight. His hair was longer, and he had quite a bit more scruff to him. Eddie was also pleased to see that he was wearing his glasses.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Eddie," Steve breathed.

They've talked on the phone and written each other letters but it was definitely better seeing each other in person.

"I wanted to surprise you for your birthday," Eddie said. "Surprise!"

"My birthday isn't until next week," Steve said in amusement.

"So, I came early," Eddie said, and then he smirked. "It's not like I haven't done that before. . .but then, you know that."

"Eddie," Steve scolded, but he was smiling and blushing. "Come on in."

"Don't mind if I do," Eddie said, stepping over the threshold. "So, where's this girl of yours? . . . Liddie? I want to meet her."

"She's in the living room, and her name is Lizzie," Steve corrected, laughing. "Come on."

Eddie followed behind Steve, enjoying the view as he did so. When he walked into the living room, all he saw was a playpen with a little girl inside. Was Steve in the middle of babysitting?

"I don't see her," Eddie frowned.

"Lizzie's right there, Eddie," Steve laughed, pointing at the crib.

"Oh my god! Steve!" Eddie yelled, appalled.

"Uh?" Lizzie asked, looking up from chewing on her teddy bear.

"Yeah, I know, I have a daughter," Steve said. "Surprise! Although, I thought you knew."

"A daughter! Oh, oh, thank god!" Eddie said, clutching his chest.

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked in confusion.

"Uh, never mind what I was thinking," Eddie said, blushing. "So, a daughter, huh? How old?"

"A year and three months," Steve said proudly.

"Oh, wow," Eddie said with a grin.

"Yeah. Time flies, and it seems like only it was only yesterday that I was in the hospital with her. . .holding her for the first time," Steve said.

A year and three months. Eddie looked at the kid. She was cute with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Apart from that, she looked almost exactly like Steve. Eddie chuckled. It almost looked like they had a baby together. A year and three months. A year and three months?! Eddie did the math in his head. They had sex right before Eddie left, which meant that Lizzie would have had to have been concieved sometime around there. Lizzie. . .Elizabeth. . .oh, after his mom?

"Oh my god," Eddie whispered softly and grabbed his arms. "Steve. . .Steve, is she mine?"

"Eddie," Steve said slowly. "I want you to really think about what you just said."

"I am thinking about it! I'm thinking about you going through all that alone!" Eddie exclaimed. "You had to deliver her without me there to hold your hand!"

"Eddie, I didn't - "

"I'm such an idiot! I never should have left, I mean, I could have toughed it out a few more years!" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie, I swear - "

"Oh, my god, and even though I wasn't there for you, you still named our daughter after my mother," Eddie rambled.

"If you would just stop for a minute and listen - "

"Steve!" Eddie said, grabbing his arms. "Was it the bat bites? Because I slept with a guy like a month ago, and it was only because he was wearing a polo like you! I also slept with a girl. . .she had hair like yours! Can girls also get me pregnant?! Do I have to take a pregnancy test?. . .Lizzie, sweetheart, I think you're going to be a big sister!"

"Arf! Arf!" Lizzie barked.

Eddie bent over, putting his head between his legs as his mind spun around in circles. He felt Steve grab him and drag him into the kitchen. Steve yanked off his vest and jacket, tossing them onto the counter. He turned on the faucet, grabbed Eddie's head, and shoved it under the water. Eddie shrieked.

"Okay! Okay!"

Steve turned off the water and let him up. Eddie scowled as he rung out his hair.

"Are you done?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, thanks, I needed that," Eddie said.

"Lizzie is not your daughter," Steve said.

"She's not?" Eddie asked, with wide eyes.

"Okay, with you looking at me like that, I kinda regret saying that," Steve said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left," Eddie said. "I think I just regret doing that."

"Eddie, this town was suffocating you," Steve said. "You needed to leave."

"Did I, though?" Eddie asked. "Wayne managed to tough it out here."

"You need to stop beating yourself up for reacting to a bad situation that was out of your control," Steve said.

"I regretted the minute I left, but I was already out there on the road with the boys," Eddie said. "I loved it, but I think I might have left my heart behind here."

"You want to stay?" Steve asked.

"If you'll take me back," Eddie said.

"It's hard to say no when you're looking all sad and wet like that," Steve said.

"I want to stay anyway, even if you don't want to take me back," Eddie said.

"I have missed you every single minute of every single day," Steve said. "I haven't stopped loving you or hoping we'll find our way back to each other."

"I love you," Eddie whispered.

"I love you, too," Steve said.

Eddie grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. He felt Steve smiling into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. He pressed Steve up against the counter, melting into him like butter. He broke the kiss, crossing to press thousands of tiny kisses all over Steve’s face. Steve giggled and pushed him back.

"Will Lizzie's mother have a problem with this?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, she's not in the picture. Hold on," Steve said.

He left and came back to Eddie, putting his hair into a towel. He handed Eddie a letter.

"What's this?" Eddie asked, sitting on a stool.

"The day after you left, I went to a hotel bar, drank it, and met a woman who was just as heartbroken as I was," Steve said. "We slept together and nine months later, Lizzie was born."

"A mere vessel," Eddie cackled after reading it. "I like her. She sounds like me."

"She also looks like you," Steve blushed.

"Okay, so we went the long way around, but we got here," Eddie laughed. "She is my daughter."

"What?" Steve asked.

"In every other way except biologically, Elizabeth is mine. I mean, you even named her after my mother," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I did do that," he blushed.

Eddie pulled Steve in between his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist. He studied his face, drinking in every inch of skin, every mole. . .God, he loved this man.

"Steve Harrington, if you want me to, I want to be your baby daddy," Eddie sighed.

"I do," Steve smiled.

Eddie flashed his dimples and smacked Steve’s ass.

"Well, introduce me to our daughter, big boy," Eddie said.

Steve laughed and pulled him up off the stool. Holding his hand, he pulled him down the hall. Eddie stopped him before pulling the towel off his head and fixing his hair. He straightened his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, his hands on his hips.

"I want to look good," Eddie said, and then he gasped. "Steve, what if she doesn't like me?"

"Eddie, she barks like a dog. She's going to love you," Steve said.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, and Steve just shook his head.

Eddie followed Steve into the living room, where Lizzie had moved onto a cloth book. Her little tongue was out as her little finger traced the words as though she was trying to teach herself how to read. Eddie smiled. She glanced up and smiled at Eddie then at Steve.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked and held her hands up towards Steve.

Steve pulled her out of the playpen and put her on his hip. Holy fuck, Eddie thought, he looks totally hot.

"Lizzie, this is Eddie. He's going to be your other Dada," Steve said.

"Dada?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"You get two!" Steve exclaimed, pointing to himself and then to Eddie.

"Two Dadas!" Lizzie clapped.

"Wow, she caught on quick," Eddie said.

"Yeah, she's smart. I'm still not sure how much she understands," Steve said.

Lizzie leaned over Steve’s arms and reached towards Eddie. He grinned and took Lizzie into his arms.

"Hi," Eddie whispered.

"Hi," Lizzie said.

"Hi."

"Hi," Lizzie said, and then she giggled.

She reached over and started licking Eddie's cheek. Eddie cackled.

"Yeah, we definitely should talk to Robin about this. She can't go around licking people," Eddie giggled.

"Dada! Dada! Dada!" Lizzie shrieked as she bounced on his hip.

"Ooh! I wonder - ," Eddie gasped.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve asked.

Eddie set Lizzie on the floor and sprawled out in front of her.

"Okay, can you raise your little fingers like this?" Eddie said as he raised his pointer fingers to his head to make horns.

Lizzie blinked at him. She reached over and grabbed Eddie's hair.

"Ah!" Lizzie screamed.

"No, baby, no!" Eddie said while Steve laughed.

Eddie eventually guided her gently and got her to make little horns while sticking out her tongue. It wasn't perfect, but she managed it with Eddie's help. Luckily, it took Eddie long enough for Steve to get a camera.

"Good job, daddy," Steve said.

He leaned down and kissed Eddie. Lizzie shrieked and pushed Steve off Eddie. She scrunched up her face at them before hugging Eddie.

"No, Daddy, don't do that," Eddie laughed. "That's gross. . .Thanks for saving me, baby."

"I ordered dinner. . .Are you gonna stay the night?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to stay forever," Eddie said as he hugged Lizzie to him.

After dinner, Eddie happily helped Steve give Lizzie a bath before throwing a colander over a flashlight in Lizzie's room to make stars. He laid down on the floor with Lizzie curled up between him and Steve, her eyes getting heavy.

". . .so I opened my eyes and wondered if I was floating. I realized a moment later that a beautiful man was carrying me out of hell. He was begging me to stay with him, and I did want to stay with him, but I didn't know why. He spent the next few weeks taking care of me, and I spent the same amount of time trying to fight the fact that I was falling for him, a man. It wasn't until the town had run me out that I realized I was in love with him. When I came back, I realized I never wanted to leave him again. . . That man, of course, was your daddy. So, the next time I go on the road, it's going to be with you and your daddy in an RV. Your daddy is going to be playing obnoxious music, so I apologize in advance."

"Hey, your music is not obnoxious," Steve said.

"I was talking about yours," Eddie grinned.

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed, slapping his chest.

"Shh! Steve, our daughter is asleep. . .what is that sound?!"

"Yeah, she snores," Steve said.

"My god, that's the loudest sound I have heard from someone so tiny."

"Hey, Eddie," Steve whispered.

"Yeah?"

"We're a family," Steve said and Eddie leaned over Lizzie's head to kiss him.

" . . . And they all lived happily ever after. . ."

[ghsface]

Hi k have a kinda specific request that I thought would make a good fic! I was thinking that maybe we see the BAU and y/n and Spencer the morning after Yk… the girls figure out that y/n just got layes and they do the whole bonding girl gossip thing. Derek sees Spencer wearing a scarf and makes a joke about it, only to realize that he was right. Penelope tells Derek and then without y/n or Spencer realizing like everyone knows. They also figure out why Reid is the only one with hikeys 🫢 and yeah…. Thanks queen! I hope this makes sense

New Message ✮⋆˙

Hey gorgeous, I love this idea so much, it was very fun to write I hope you like 🎀 🩷

our secret, not so secret - Spencer Reid

Sumary: You and Spencer try to hide your relationship, but it's hard when you have hickeys on your neck.

Warnings: fluff, jokes, hickeys, the bau being chaotic, I think that's all, this is pure fluff,

A/n: I'm sorry if there is something wrong or not understood, my first language is not English.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

It was a chaotic morning for you. You woke up a little late and the mess was evident in Spencer's bathroom mirror, with those little reminders on your neck that not even the concealer could completely hide. You were aware that you were trying a desperate maneuver, but well, Spencer had already warned you that the makeup would not last the entire day. Still, you were determined not to leave any evidence, you applied the last layer of foundation before leaving his apartment, determined not to give any clues about what happened the night before.

For Spencer, the situation was not much different. She decided to cover the marks with a scarf, trying to act normal as they prepared to face another day of work at the BAU, as if everything was perfectly under control. The two of you looked at each other knowingly before leaving, in an attempt to keep your relationship a secret... again.

Arriving at the office, you said good morning as if nothing had happened. But it wasn’t long before Emily and JJ, who seemed to have a radar for these matters, caught you in their line of sight. They looked you up and down with a mischievous grin, and without missing a beat, JJ raised an eyebrow and fired the first bullet: “And that face, Y/N? Long night?”

You tried to shake your head with a nervous laugh, avoiding looking at the two too much, but Emily stepped closer, lowering her tone so as not to draw too much attention. “Oh, come on, babe. There’s a sparkle in your eyes… and, from what I see, on your neck too.”

With your heart in your throat, you quickly glanced at your reflection in a nearby frame and noticed that the base had already begun to fade, leaving a faint purple mark showing. Emily and JJ glanced at each other, and then Penelope, who appeared out of nowhere as if she had smelled the drama, also joined the small circle. “Please let me guess… was anyone busy last night?”

Between laughs and accusations, you tried to defend yourself without much success. You knew they were trying to provoke you and that, at this rate, the secret wasn't going to last long. Emily and JJ's laughter soon attracted Derek, who approached with a mocking smile. “What's up, girls? Something I'm missing?”

Emily gave him a knowing look and pointed towards the entrance, where Spencer had just appeared with a very inconspicuous scarf. Derek narrowed his eyes and laughed. “Since when does Spencer wear scarves? It's spring, for God's sake.”

They all looked at each other, hiding their laughter, as Derek approached Spencer. With an attitude that only Derek could adopt, he patted him on the back and gave him a knowing smile. “Pretty boy… do you need some advice on how to handle the weather?”

Spencer froze for a second, trying not to lose his cool. He knew he had been caught. He tried to respond with a vague excuse about “changing his style” and “protecting his throat,” but Derek simply held up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Sure, sure, I imagine the weather was intense last night, right?”

Meanwhile, you were trying not to burst out laughing at Spencer's obvious blush and despair. But Derek, who had caught on to the whole situation, turned around to join Emily, JJ, and Penelope again, winking at the girls. “See what I'm saying? Our genius boy is growing up.”

Before Spencer could respond, Hotch walked past the group, observing the laughter and commotion with his usual seriousness. But something in his expression betrayed that he fully understood what the conversation was about.

“Anything you want to share?” he asked, without losing his composure.

Derek shook his head with a smile, but took the opportunity to continue provoking. “Nothing, Hotch. It just seems that some of your colleagues have… interesting extracurricular activities.”

Hotch cast a quick glance at you, who were trying to make yourself small at your desk, and then at Spencer, with her suspicious scarf. For the first time, a barely perceptible smile crossed his face.

“I guess ‘activities’ require a little more discretion next time, too, huh?” Hotch said, before continuing on his way.

As the team laughed and threw around comments, Rossi walked over with a cup of coffee, assessing the scene like the veteran he was. “Ah, youth… that energy and lack of subtlety. There’s nothing like first love at work.”

By then, the rumor had already spread throughout the office.

Hours later, as you tried to continue with your work, Penelope approached with a whisper. “Honey, we all know. You two don’t have to hide anything.” Your surprised expression was enough to make her laugh. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret? Come on, we’re profilers. Wait not me but thay do. Plus… you’ve never come to the office so… happy.”

You decided to give in and accept it, and just as you were about to approach Spencer to tell him, he appeared at your side, still wearing the scarf. When you turned to look at him, he already had that resigned expression on his face that made you laugh. “How much did you hear?” he asked with a sigh, looking around and catching everyone’s smiles.

“Everything?” you said with a mocking smile.

Finally, Derek, with an air of triumph, approached the two of you and announced loudly, “And that’s how it’s done, ladies and gentlemen! Our boy has become quite the man.” The office was filled with laughter and jokes as you and Spencer exchanged glances that were somewhere between nervous and amused.

Emily approached you and, not missing the opportunity, added, “So… how long did you think you were going to last without us finding out? A day, maybe two?”

You bit your lip, embarrassed, and looked at Spencer, who didn’t know whether to laugh or faint. In the end, there wasn’t much else to say.

JJ laughed, giving you a gentle shove. “Relax, Y/N. We knew before you guys realized it. We were just waiting to see how long it would take you to admit it.”

You and Spencer exchanged a resigned look. Maybe their “secret” hadn’t been so secret after all.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly, and feel free to leave a request ✮

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Azul Ashengrotto

Cliché: Objecting to a wedding (with a little twist)

Others: Leona ; Vil ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

Azul sat at his desk in his office, pen poised, tapping thoughtfully as he contemplated what had become his primary preoccupation lately: how to tell you he was in love with you. It was strange, really, to be brought to such an embarrassing level of angst over something as ridiculous as romance.

He had been calm and calculated through all kinds of treacherous deals, survived the most unruly of contracts, and even faced the wrath of certain dorm leaders. And yet, here he was—totally, desperately, in love.

The problem, of course, was how to bring it up without appearing half as desperate as he actually felt. He could already hear Floyd’s teasing if he ever caught wind of it. Not that Azul would ever admit it, but he might be… hopelessly, pathetically desperate. A shudder of horror ran down his spine.

“Alright, Azul,” he muttered to himself, smoothing out his vest. “You’re a businessman, a negotiator—you can handle this.”

But he hadn’t factored in one tiny detail: you were so busy that week, you barely had time to look in his direction. Every time he thought he had an opening to finally confess, you would dash off on some new errand, looking distracted. Azul was beginning to think you might not even realize he existed.

One afternoon, when you came in looking particularly absorbed, he thought, Alright, maybe I just need to be patient.

But then you said, “Azul, can Mostro Lounge handle catering for a wedding reception?”

He blinked, entirely taken off guard. “A… wedding reception?”

“Yeah,” you replied, flipping through some papers as you looked at the lounge thoughtfully. “Also, can you do a big spread? You know, food for a few hundred people?”

Azul’s heart did an odd stutter as he absorbed your words. A wedding… Surely, you didn’t mean your wedding, right? Right? He felt his pulse quicken, but he nodded, doing his best to appear calm.

“Yes, Mostro Lounge can cater… sizable events,” he managed, his throat oddly dry.

“Oh, good,” you said, looking relieved. “Could you put together a sample menu sometime? I’d love to see what the possibilities are.”

You seemed distracted, almost… giddy. Azul’s nerves were fraying with each passing second, but he held it together. It’s just an event, maybe they're organizing for a friend. It doesn’t mean—

But then, the twins ambled into his office later that afternoon. Floyd sauntered over, that unnerving grin plastered across his face. “Shame, Boss. Guess they're tying the knot with someone else, huh?”

Azul���s blood ran cold. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Jade chimed in, eyes glinting with unholy amusement. “Our prefect is planning their own wedding. I heard them talking about the caterers—thought you would’ve figured it out.”

Azul froze. No… it can’t be…

“Yeah,” Floyd continued, clearly relishing his shock. “They’re talking about the reception, catering, the whole deal. Sounds like a big one, too!”

Azul’s brain short-circuited as he tried to process this bombshell. He’d thought… well, he hadn’t thought you would actually marry someone else. Suddenly, an image of you in a wedding with some faceless stranger standing beside you flickered in his mind, and he shot up from his desk, knocking his pen off the edge.

“Where… where are they right now?”

Jade and Floyd exchanged glances, a wicked grin growing on Floyd’s face as he pointed toward the lounge.

Without a second thought, Azul tore out of his office, heart pounding. He found you near the dining area, still sorting through event plans, and before he knew what he was doing, he blurted, “Wait!”

You turned around, startled. “Azul? Is everything alright?”

“No, actually, it isn’t,” he said, words spilling out in a rush. “I—I object to this wedding!”

There was a beat of silence before you blinked, baffled. “Wait… what?”

“The wedding!” he cried, nearly breathless from both panic and embarrassment. “You can’t just— I mean, I didn’t think you were… I mean, I thought…”

You raised a brow, looking both concerned and a little amused. “Azul, what are you talking about?”

He stared at you, realizing too late that he hadn’t exactly… clarified his feelings. The few bystanders who had overheard him began to chuckle, and Azul’s face turned the deepest shade of red you’d ever seen.

“Well,” you prompted, folding your arms with an amused smile, “care to explain yourself, Mr. Ashengrotto?”

Azul opened his mouth, then closed it, absolutely mortified. “I… I thought it was your wedding you were planning.”

He could feel himself spiraling into a pit of despair as laughter rippled through the lounge. You, however, just looked at him, touched and amused all at once. You stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, and he felt his pulse quicken.

“Azul,” you said gently, “I was planning this for a friend.”

Azul’s shoulders sagged in sheer relief. He let out a breath, and for the first time in his life, he genuinely didn’t care that people were laughing at him. Because you weren’t marrying anyone else, which meant—

“Oh,” he said faintly, face still red as a sunset.

You chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the moment far too much. “Did you really think I’d go through all that trouble to plan a wedding just for myself without saying a word to you?”

“I… I might have,” he admitted, glancing away sheepishly.

You laughed, stepping even closer. “You really think I’d do that to you?”

Before he could answer, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, leaving him in stunned silence as the last of his anxieties melted away. “I take it you don’t want me planning any weddings unless it’s with you, hm?”

Azul felt his heart lurch, and though every fiber of his pride fought it, he nodded, his blush deepening. “…Yes. That would be… preferable.”

“Well,” you said with a grin, “how about we just start with a date?”

He stared at you, relief and joy mingling into a grin that he just couldn’t hide. “I would… like that. Very much.”

Floyd’s cackling erupted from behind you both, and Azul shot him a murderous glare, but he couldn’t find it in him to care too much—not when he had just won the only prize he truly wanted.

Masterlist

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Ace: Part 2 

Summary: Ace takes care of his blue balls; text below the cut. If you haven't already, read Part 1 here!

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: penetrative sex, dirty talk

Word Count: 1,255

———

Ace couldn’t believe his rotten luck. 

Thatch had you on deck that entire night handling something, and just before dawn, Pops sent Ace out on a mission to a nearby island. It had all happened so quickly and he’d barely had the chance to tell you goodbye and punch Marco in the arm for that knowing, teasing look on his face before he was off. 

When he returned, it was just past three in the morning, and he was absolutely miserable, with a hole in his stomach and a throbbing, aching problem between his legs. He ground his teeth together to keep from groaning as he climbed onto the ship. 

Rotten luck, indeed. 

He’d had a real rough go of things, not just because he had a serious case of blue balls but because that mission Pops had sent him on had proven to be the sort of thing that only the second division commander could really take care of. 

He normally enjoyed that sort of thing, and he’d had a few moments that he relished, but ultimately, his mind was on you and the fact he hadn’t told Thatch to go fuck himself that night. 

Marco met him on deck with a plate of food that Ace tucked into as soon as he dropped his things. As he bit into two rice balls at once, he gave the deck of the Moby Dick a once over. It was deserted, most of the crew asleep in their hammocks for the night. 

“She wanted to wait up for you,” Marco said with a knowing look, "but I sent her to bed. Thatch has been running her ragged, poor thing.” 

Ace grunted with a mouthful of food, Marco’s phrasing conjuring images in his head that he knew he should have been ashamed of. But he wasn’t ashamed. He was tired and hungry, and he needed you.

“You should let her sleep. She’s in for another long day tomorrow.” Marco chuckled and clapped Ace on the shoulder. “But if you want to keep her awake, I’m guessing you could bribe Thatch with some of that sake you brought back.” 

Ace just nodded and headed inside.

Exhausted, he paused outside the door and pressed his forehead into it. His blood was absolutely boiling in his veins, and he knew he needed to calm down some before coming on to you, but he wasn’t sure how to do that. 

A sound filtered through the door, and Ace’s ears twitched. 

No way. 

He leaned in closer and held his breath to listen. Sure enough, he heard a small, wanton moan come from inside his cabin. 

Ace’s heart jumped in his chest. All thoughts of remaining calm and slipping quietly into bed left his mind. He whipped open the door. He intended to slip inside smoothly, but he ended up stumbling, accidentally slamming the door shut behind him. 

You gasped, sitting up straight in bed. You squinted in the dark, only just making out a tall, broad figure in a cowboy hat. “Ace?” 

“Did you really get started without me?” Ace stepped out of his boots, almost tripping he was in such a rush. “You knew I was coming home tonight.” 

“I started thinking you got delayed and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.” You fell back on the pillows, enveloped in the scent of him once more. You were naked under the covers with your hand still between your legs, where you had been rubbing furiously at your clit in a pathetic attempt to get off on your own. 

“I’m here now.” He shoved his shorts down and stepped out of those, too; he never wore anything underneath. He practically dove into bed, struggling to get the covers off your body. 

He felt your lips on his shoulder. 

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe under the weight of your boyfriend, but you didn’t dare complain as the two of you struggled to get the covers out from between you. His crushing weight on top of you was the best feeling in the world. 

Well, one of the best feelings in the world. 

“How many times did you cum?” He asked, finally peeling back the covers. He pressed his naked body into yours and groaned. “How many times did you cum without me?” 

“You interrupted before I could finish,” you told him. You sighed in relief at the feel of his chest against yours. Your hands went straight to his black locks, but they didn’t stay there for very long. You ran them down his face and neck, squeezed his shoulders, and grabbed hold of his muscular biceps. 

“What about last night?” He pushed your head to the side and went to work on your neck, kissing and sucking to his heart’s content, biting so hard you mewled in pain. “How many times did you cum last night?” 

“None.” 

“And the night before?” 

You hesitated, but answered honestly. “Once.” 

He didn’t run his fingers up and down your slit. He didn’t tongue fuck you to make sure you were good and ready. Hell, he didn’t even ask you to finish the blowjob you’d been giving him before the two of you were separated. He just aligned his cock with your slick entrance. 

“Need this so bad,” he moaned into your shoulder. “I have the worst blue balls of my life right now. Hurts so bad.” 

“You say that every time.” 

“It hurts every time.” He pushed the head of his cock into your entrance and let out a loud groan as if nobody could hear. “Oh, that feels so good.” He pushed another inch in. “Tell me how you came the other night, sweetheart. Tell me all about it.” 

“I was thinking about that time you went down on me on deck,” you confessed. “When the others were all drinking in town.” 

Ace hummed in encouragement, pushing another inch in. His mouth watered and his abdominal muscles spasmed at the feel of your warmth encasing him bit by bit.

You whined at the stretch but kept on. “I rode your pillow like it was your thigh. It was so good.” Another inch, another whine. “I’m pretty sure Marco heard. He knocked on the door right after I came to check on me.” 

That bastard, Ace thought to himself. 

He couldn’t stop himself. He bottomed out inside you, pushing your thighs apart for better access. He rolled his hips against yours, fucking you like a maniac, the two of you panting and moaning.  

He was a complete mess, a sheen of sweat appearing on his brow line as he fucked you. He panted and whimpered, his rhythm far less consistent than usual. He rutted into you like he'd never done it before, like he'd never even experienced pleasure before.

Ace at least had the sense to thumb your clit while he fucked you, but he couldn’t think of anything beyond that. He tried desperately to hold off until you came. 

The second he felt your walls tighten around him and your nails dig deeper into his back, he released all of the tension he’d been carrying around with him, filling you with his cum. He gave another few deep strokes before collapsing on top of you. 

“So tired,” he muttered into your hair, still inside of you. 

You rubbed the back of his neck. “Go to sleep, then. We can catch up in the morning.” 

Ace didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you one final time and was out like a light. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie threw an arm over Steve's shoulder, bringing him into a half-hug, “So, what did you guys think?”

“It was great!” Steve said quickly, relaxing into Eddie’s side, “You guys killed it, dude!”

“He’s right,” Robin agreed, “It was awesome! Super, duper fun and we’re so glad we got to see it. But actually, we kinda got to go-”

Eddie frowned, the loose grip he had over Steve’s shoulder tightening on it’s own accord, “Go where? Don’t tell me you guys are tired already?”

For some reason, Robin didn’t look at him after he asked the question. Instead she looked to Steve, a brow raised as she waited for something. But then Steve was giving her a subtle nod, her queue to start talking again. She leaned in closer, whispering as loud as she could in the noisy environment, “So… you’re like cool, right? Steve said you were cool.”

Eddie cocked his head at her, beyond confused, “I-yes? I guess?”

“About the thing?” She pressed, jerking her head his direction, “Steve’s thing?”

“Oh!” Eddie blurted, finally catching on. But he still didn’t get what Steve being gay had to do with them ditching. He nodded quickly, “Very cool with it. Have zero issues.”

It was almost true. Whatever issues Eddie had with Steve’s sexuality involved his own bullshit more than anything else. Plus, his answer had Robin smiling. Gesturing for Eddie to lean in closer, “Good. Because we, um. Share the affliction if you catch my drift.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie said, not missing a beat. He had kind of figured that out along the way. Considering the process of elimination on who could have possibly talked Steve through his queer thoughts. Not that Eddie cared, “No problem here.”

“Good!” She said with a grin, “Then you know just how limited our options are where we live. And according to an insanely pretty girl, there is an honest to god gay bar, like a few blocks away!”

Eddie swallowed, discomfort suddenly settling in at the suggestion, “T-That’s where you guys are going?”

“Yeah!” She said excitedly, setting her sights back onto Steve, “It’s time for someone to realize that we are hot enough to flirt and be flirted with! Closets don’t matter when you’re hours away from home.”

“We share the exact same closet,” Steve groaned, “Don’t start preaching to me.”

“And tonight we can escape from it!” Robin argued, “Come on! Eddie’s going to be busy with his friends and groupies anyway. What else are we doing-”

“I’m actually not that busy,” Eddie interrupted, trying his damndest to keep his voice calm. Suddenly, he felt nauseous again. He didn’t-He knew Steve could handle himself. He did. B-But creeps were everywhere! And he wasn’t used to being around guys who only wanted one thing and Robin would be distracted with girls a-and Eddie was really struggling with this idea.

Though Steve seemed to disagree. The next thing he knew, Steve was smiling back at her. Letting out a good-natured sigh, “Fine, fine! We can go. Someone has to make sure you don’t get kidnapped.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Robin nearly squealed, bouncing a little in her seat, “This is gonna be so fun!”

Eddie’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his his chest at the excitement, dread starting to fill him. He opened his mouth, words escaping before he could even think of it, “Sounds like you two might need a D.D. I can do it.”

It was probably the first time Eddie had ever invited himself to something he clearly wasn’t a part of. But he had to give himself some credit for how smoothly it came out. 

Robin looked up at him, clearly surprised, “Really? It’s not exactly your scene.”

Eddie shrugged, “It could be. I like George Michael.”

Steve snorted next to him, “That is the one true gay litmus test. You got us there.”

“Seriously though,” Eddie pressed, refusing to let it go, “Then you can both drink, dance, have fun. And not worry about how you’re getting back to the hotel.”

“But don’t you want to stay here?” Steve asked, “Robin wasn’t kidding about the groupies. You should have heard what some of them were saying.”

“You could definitely get laid,” Robin added. She was staring at him now, looking at Eddie in a way that seemed a little past confused. Like she was examining him. Testing him. Or maybe that was just in his head. 

Eddie held firm, “Maybe, but I’d rather hang out with you two vs playing wingman to the boys. What do you say?”

“If you really don’t mind…” Steve said, trailing off. But Eddie could tell that he was happy. He could barely keep his smile to himself as he looked to the side, biting his lip in a way that Eddie fucking knew other people would notice. How could they not? 

from the next chapter of this fic

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |15 - Final|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam stood next to Tara as she got patched up in the ambulance. Sam couldn’t believe she made it out without another stab wound and that Tara only got stabbed in the shoulder. Her eyes drifted across the way to see you in the back of another ambulance, getting stitched up once again. It seemed you had been right; you tore open all of your stitches, again.

Chad was standing next to you, seeming to talk rather animatedly as he gestured around crazily with his arms. Sam was sure that when they got outside, they’d find Chad in a puddle of blood, but they didn’t, he had been completely fine. When Chad hadn’t been able to get ahold of Mindy, he said he went to go inside but the doors were all locked, so he ran to the nearest police station. By the time they were leaving the building police and medics were already waiting, a few minutes earlier and maybe Bailey and the others would have been arrested instead of dead.

“You know,” Tara said, interrupting Sam’s thoughts. She looked to see her sister was all patched up and now had a simple makeshift sling as she hopped down from the ambulance. “They’re not so bad,” she nodded in your direction. Sam followed her sister’s gaze and couldn’t help but smile. “I think you picked a good one.”

Sam let out a breathless laugh. She knew Tara was right, you were one of the good ones. They didn’t lose anyone with you by their side, you ended up getting the most hurt out of all of them in fact. Sam didn’t even want to know where they’d all be without you, she certainly didn’t think they’d make it out and she didn’t think she could handle losing any of them.

“I almost got them killed,” Sam said. She couldn’t see why you’d ever stick around; no one was crazy enough to put up with her after seeing her life. She figured you’d return to North Carolina and go back to your special ops missions; you were clearly quite good at it after all.

Tara scoffed and Sam looked back at her sister just in time to see her rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” Tara said. “They almost died for you!” She gestured at you. Sam furrowed her brow; Tara said the same exact thing she just did but in a different tone. Sam couldn’t figure out how it was any different, she was pretty sure you almost dying for her and her almost getting you killed meant the same thing.

“They’re still here,” Tara said slower as if that would make Sam understand better. Sam guessed it was obvious she was still confused because Tara threw her head back and let out an exaggerated groan. “They know everything,” she gestured widely. “And they still stayed.”

“They had a whole life before me.” Sam watched as the medic finished stitching up another one of your wounds.

“And you could be a part of it.”

“I don’t-”

“You deserve to be happy Sam.” Sam snapped her head towards her sister in shock, Tara sounded so confident when she said that. “You just got to take the chance:”

Sam sighed and looked back over at you. You stayed, you got hurt protecting her and her friends. Not to mention the fact that you also killed two people for her, probably would have done all three but you let her have Bailey. You didn’t need that kind of drama in your life, you could go back to your own life before you ever met her. Sam wasn’t even sure what a relationship with you would even look like. She worked two jobs to pay for the apartment and Tara would always be her priority. She would be stuck working dead end jobs because she never went to college, she barely got her high school diploma, but you were exceptional, you were smart and strong, you were a hero.

“Hey,” Chad said as he jogged up to the sisters. “I just got off the phone with Mindy.”

“Is she okay?” Tara asked. Sam watched Chad’s face with worry, they didn’t know anything besides the fact that Quinn apparently stabbed her. Chad had been asking for information on his sister since they got outside, several people said they’d learn what they could.

“Yeah,” Chad nodded. “She’s at the hospital, she said Gale also made it.” Sam couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, her and Gale may have had their differences, but she certainly didn’t want to see the woman die, Gale didn’t deserve that. “I was going to head down there now; did you want to come with?”

Sam opened her mouth to say yes, she wanted to see Mindy and even Gale for herself. She wanted to be able to tell Gale that they got them, that it was finally over. The words never came out though as her eyes drifted back over to you. Chad whipped his head back and forth looking between you and Sam, when she finally turned back to answer Chad he was giving her a knowing smile.

“They’re okay,” Chad said without even being asked. “Giving the medics a hard time.”

Sam couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle and roll her eyes. That definitely seemed accurate, they were probably trying to give you the best care possible while you insisted you were fine. Sam was sure the only reason they didn’t take you to the hospital was because you, once again, denied doing so.

“But you should talk to them,” Chad continued. Sam raised an eyebrow at that, she knew how much Chad liked you. Only one conversation and you had Chad vouching for you and had him telling you all about them, probably when you didn’t even ask. “They seem great!” He smiled innocently.

Sam rolled her eyes again; between Chad and her sister she didn’t know what she’d do. “We’ll meet you at the hospital in a bit,” Sam finally said. Chad nodded and ran off to a police officer who seemed willing to give him a ride.

Sam looked up just as you smiled and thanked the medic as she packed up her supplies. She looked back to her sister who gestured at her to go over to you. Sam sighed and made her way towards you. She had talked to you plenty of times, it wasn’t until you almost died trying to save her life, but since then it seemed like the two of you shared a lot. You talked about your past, Sam talked about hers, the two of you even shared a kiss when you spent the night. None of that meant you wanted anything more, if anything you’d probably want nothing to do with her.

“Hey,” you said as you hopped out of the ambulance.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked. She looked you up and down, her eyes seemed to only go to the injuries she knew you had and a the blood covering your shirt. She knew most of the blood couldn’t have been yours, it was most likely from Quinn and Ethan.

“Yeah,” you shrugged as if everything that happened to you was no big deal. “What about you?” Your brow scrunched up as your eyes searched her face. Sam hadn’t even been stabbed and yet you were asking if she was okay. “And your sister,” you nodded at something behind her and Sam glanced back to see Tara watching the two of you.

Sam rolled her eyes; Tara was relentless when she made up her mind about something. “She’ll be okay, has to wear the sling for a few day.”

You let out a knowing hum. “And Chad said Mindy and Gale made it. Guess everyone made it out,” you smiled.

“Only thanks to you.” You scoffed and let out a little chuckle as if you didn’t actually believe Sam’s words. “I’m serious.” You rolled her eyes, still clearly not ready to accept what Sam was telling you. “Hey,” without thinking Sam reached out and caressed your cheek which you almost instinctively leaned into. “You saved us, there is no way all of us would have made it out, especially with most of us unscathed.”

You gave her a soft smile, finally seeming to accept the fact that you wouldn’t win this argument. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence and Sam couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes as they stared into her own. “Your sister is staring at us,” you whispered, never taking your eyes off of Sam.

Sam felt her face heat up at that, she should have known you’d notice, you proved to be rather observant. “She’s making sure I talk to you,” Sam admitted.

“About anything in particular?” Your mouth twitched up in a smirk, as if you knew what Tara wanted Sam to talk to you about.

“I just…” the words got caught in her throat as she stared into your eyes. She couldn’t believe the person who was looking at her with so much cared had just killed two people, had killed them for her.

“Just what?” you rasped out. Sam wasn’t sure when she got so close to you, she had heard you as if you were the only two in the world.

Sam shook her head and pushed out all the voices telling her this was a bad idea and that you could still hurt her. She didn’t hesitate as she shot forward, catching your lips in a surprising kiss. She felt you stiffen but before she could pull away you grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Sam couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, it was even better than the first one and this time she didn’t intend on stopping you.

Eventually the two of you did have to breakaway because both of you needed to catch your breath. Sam couldn’t remember the last time she smiled so much, she bit her lip as she looked up at you shyly, as if she hadn’t just been to make the first move. She didn’t ask permission; she just went for it and the soft smile on your face was making her want to do it all over again.

“My life’s a mess,” Sam blurted out, but this time she was smiling as she spoke. “As you’ve seen,” she gestured to the chaos around them. “But, would you maybe,” Sam couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip as she was suddenly unable to look you in the eye. “Want to go out sometime?”

Sam glanced up through her lashes and was met with your soft smile. “I’d like that,” you said.

Sam smiled; it had been a long time since she asked someone out. She almost felt like she was back in high school, having her first crush. You gently put your finger under her chin and tilted her head up, so she was looking into your eyes again. Both of you couldn’t seem to help but smile as you leaned in for another kiss.

You broke the kiss quicker than Sam would like this time; she wanted to chase after your lips, but it was clear you had something you wanted to say. “Maybe I’m overthinking and rushing this,” you whispered. “Maybe our first date will go horrible, and you won’t want another.” Sam couldn’t help but silently chuckle at that, she didn’t think that was possible. “But I’m not easy to be with.” Sam furrowed her brow at that.

“I’m military, if I’m not deployed, I’m in North Carolina, I only get to come back home, to here, when I’m on leave, maybe a weekend, if I’m lucky,” you sighed, you seemed to really be stressing how little you would actually physically be able to be in the same place at Sam. “A lot of people don’t want to put up with that. You’re trying to lessen the complications in your life, I don’t want to add to it.”

Sam rested a hand on the side of your face, you closed your eyes as you leaned into her touch and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I don’t think either of us can make any promises, or that we should,” Sam said. “But I’m willing to try.” You gave her what she could only describe as a relieved smile, as if you expected her to back down. “Let’s just live in the moment and take it day by day.”

“I like the sound of that.” You smiled and it seemed like you were about to lean in for another kiss, which Sam was more than happy to meet in the middle when the two of you were interrupted by someone calling out Sam’s name.

Sam furrowed her brow and turned to see Kirby being wheeled out on a gurney. “Oh my god,” Sam yelled and ran to Kirby’s side. “You’re alive!”

“I’m so glad while I was bleeding out, you two were making out,” Kirby mumbled, slightly drowsy from the drugs the medics gave her, or the blood loss.

“We weren’t the ones and who got ourselves shot,” you snarked.

“Hey,” Kirby pointed a finger at you, leaning up from the gurney slightly. “Remember who gave you that gun.” Sam’s eyes widened, she completely forgot you had a gun, one you didn’t tell her about. “And it seems it came in handy.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes and waved her off. “We’ll stop by and visit in a bit.”

Kirby nodded, seeming to get more sleepy the longer she laid there. “You did good sergeant.” You smiled at that and nodded for the medics to continue on towards the ambulance.

Sam crossed her arms as she stepped in front of you. She raised an expectant eyebrow at you, and you just tilted your head, as you pretended to be confused. “You failed to mention Kirby gave you a weapon,” Sam said.

“The less people who knew the better,” you defended. Sam scoffed; she couldn’t believe you were trying that with her. “And look, your sister is coming over,” you gestured to the side, effectively changing the subject as Sam glanced over and saw Tara was indeed walking over.

“So, you two together now?” Tara asked as a greeting.

“No!” Sam denied, she was sure her face was bright red after that. “We’ve barely known each other three days.” It felt like she had known you a lot longer than that, even if she didn’t count the longing stares she gave you at the gym the last three months. “But, we are going on a first date.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Guess that’s something,” she mumbled. Sam smacked her sister in the arm and nodded towards you. Tara gave a dramatic roll of her eyes again. “You did good,” she nodded at you. “Total badass.” Sam closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, that wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. “And thanks for saving our lives,” Tara mumbled under her breath.

You took it well though and just quietly chuckled at her sister. “You weren’t so bad yourself,” you said.

“Come on,” Sam said, giving you and Tara a tired smile. “Let’s go check on Mindy and Gale.”

The three of you walked away from the flashing lights and the chaos all of you just survived. Sam couldn’t help but smile as her hand brushed against yours, until you took the initiative and took her hand within your own. She glanced at you out of the side of her eye and saw you looking ahead, the only evidence that you knew what you did was the smirk on your face.

“So,” Tara said, interrupting the peaceful silence. “How many dates do the two of you have to go on before I can meet the dog?”

Sam chuckled to herself; she should have known that would be a thing. The second Tara learned you had a dog her face lit up. Sam wasn’t sure she wanted to see your dog again; she was still a bit intimidated but based on the smile on your face and the way Tara was looking at her, she had a feeling she’d be seeing a lot more of the dog.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler @marsyay78

[bachiras-toaster]

dazai teaches you how to suck dick : ̗̀➛

OSAMU DAZAI x f!reader

cw. nsfw virgin!reader, dick sucking, hand job, alcohol consumption

wc. 2.9k

When the two of you arrived at Dazai’s apartment to hang out after a long evening at the Agency, you had already made yourself comfortable on his couch as he placed the pizza boxes he had ordered on the coffee table in front of you.

"Nice!-" You beamed, taking a slice before your best friend even had the chance to sit down.

"Hey, don't get too comfortable there without me." The scruffy-haired man smirked slightly as he took a seat on the other end of the sofa, looking at you over the pizza; also putting a bottle of sake down. "You might want to sit closer." He teased lightly before taking a bite of his own slice.

"Alcohol? I like your way of thinking." You giggled, already having grabbed it by the handle to pour yourself a mix into the cup you had preparedly set in front of you.

Dazai laughed slightly, holding his pizza up in challenge as he watched you pour your drink from beyond his bites.

"You can't resist a drink, can you?" He hummed lightly, pouring his own glass once you had finished. "I knew you’d be all over the bottle as soon as I put it down.”

"You know me so well." You beamed brightly at him, clinking your cups together when he had finished pouring.

“Cheers." He exclaimed with a small smirk before taking a sip from his cup, watching intently as you did the same. Your willingness to drink with him had always amused him, and he couldn’t help but smirk as he felt the need to take advantage of the situation with the spark of an interesting conversation. "So to pass the time... Let's play twenty questions."

"Twenty questions? Alright." You giggled, already beginning to tap your chin thoughtfully. "Well, I've known you for quite a while, so there aren't a lot of questions I could ask, so I'm gonna try to be reall obscure about what I say..." A lightbulb seemed to flicker in your mind. "Aha! What's the worst thing you've been told off for during your school days?"

The man just chuckled lightly at your query before taking another bite of his pizza, considering the question deeply.

"Oh, well, there's been quite a few times I’ve been in trouble. Usually, it's just for something small like talking in class or not turning in an assignment on time." He grinned, taking another sip of his sake. "...But the worst thing I got into trouble for was sneaking a girl into my dorm room. The dean wasn't very happy about it."

"Seriously?!" You chuckled brightly. "Oh my god, you would do that, wouldn't you?" You asked rhetorically with an amused smile. "Okay. now your turn to ask me a question."

Dazai questioned almost immediately, like he had such a question simmering in the corner of his mind for so long.

“What's the one thing you want to do but are too afraid to try?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

You giggled a little, trying to cover your laughs by sipping your drink over your own words.

"Oh, god. This is an embarrassing one..." You mumbled out, hesitant to respond- but figuring you didn’t have a lot to hide from one of your closest colleagues at the Agency. "...I guess probably giving someone a blowjob." She shrugged lightly, bringing her legs up onto the couch to cross them as she drank more.

"Wow— I really expect that from someone who's a virgin." Dazai’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before he quickly recovered and chuckled, trying to keep his expression neutral. "I'm not sure why you’d think that's embarrassing. It's just something you haven't done before." He jabbed, leaning back on the couch slightly. "Don't be afraid to try it. You never know if you'll like it until you do." He teased lightly, enjoying the playful banter between you two.

"Okay, haha, very funny." You feigned an amused expression, rolling your eyes at his virgin comment. "I get it. I'm a virgin and you're a massive playboy."

"Hey, I didn't say I was a massive playboy! I just happen to be a little popular with the ladies.” Dazai grinned, his eyes twinkling with pride. "I have more experience than you, that's all." He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

"...Have you ever gotten a blowjob?" You asked curiously, but you quickly felt like retracting your statement when you realised what kind of question you had just asked- and to your best friend too! "—Nevermind! Forget I asked that—"

"Well, it is twenty questions. If you're going to ask, you might as well know." Dazai shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "Yeah, I have. Feels good." He smiled slightly, trying not to look too smug about it. "If you ask me, it's nothing you should be scared about trying."

"It's just scary because I'm a—... I haven’t done it before." You grumbled, hiding your lips behind your cup. "Like— I wouldn't even know what to do. And if the guy I lost my v-card to turned out to be an asshole, it'd ruin my whole experience."

“Then you'll just have to find someone who knows what they're doing, then." He winked playfully, his smirk turning slightly teasing. "Or you could always practice on something else beforehand." He casually took another sip of his drink, watching you carefully.

"Oh yeah? And who the hell would be willing to let me practise giving them a blowjob?" You scoffed at his suggestion, only for them to respond in all seriousness.

"I could always volunteer, you know. You know I'd be more than happy to help you out, even if it's just practice."

You froze for a moment, staring blankly at him. You didn't seem to believe that he was being anything but sarcastic in what he was saying, and you just let out a chuckle in order to match what you thought was his playful intention.

"You're funny."

"I try." Dazai chuckled, putting his cup down onto the coffee table to focus his entire attention on you; he couldn't help but grin. "So, are you gonna take me up on my offer or what?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Are you being serious?" You asked plainly.

"Of course I'm serious." He couldn't help but tease you a little bit, enjoying the atmosphere between you two. "You know I'd never lie to you." He added. "But then again... Maybe you're to innocent for that." He commented with a grin as he looked away for a second, knowing that it would get a rise out of you.

"I am not innocent!" You put your cup down on the table, your face flushing as you looked sort of offended at the remark.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n)." Dazai chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You know you are. But that's what makes you so damn cute." He leaned forward, his nose scrunching with an adorable smile.

But you simply furrowed your brows, gnawing your her bottom lip as you seemed to be deep in thought at his abrupt offer.

“…You'd really help me?"

"Of course I would!" He smiled, taking your hand in his. "I'd do anything for you." He leaned back in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "It'll be our little secret, okay? Just between us. I just know you’d be embarrassed falling into the same palm of mine that so many women have fallen into before.” He boasted, to your reluctant agreement.

"Okay..." You said, watching as he reclined comfortable against the sofa before you began inching closer towards him. "But— I don't know what I'm doing." You gulped, abruptly freezing at the realisation.

“That's what practice is for." Dazai smiled, pulling you closer to him. "Don’t worry! We’ll take it slow, and I'll teach you everything you need to know." He ran his fingers through your hair, savouring the feeling of you sat so meekly opposite him. "I'm actually glad you agreed to this. You have no idea how much I've imagined you in front of me like this."

"What—?" Your face immediately felt warm when he said that.

"Don't pretend like you didn't know." He teased, smirking at you. He leaned in close, his lips close to your ear, whispering softly. "And don't pretend that I'm the only one with such thoughts… You seriously thought I couldn’t hear you the nights you’d let me crash on your couch?”

"What are you talking about?" You asked, reluctant to crawl any further towards him.

"Oh, come on," He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with playful amusement. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." He leaned back against the sofa, patting the spot in front of him. "I've heard you… And it wasn't just the occasional moan," he whispered, his hand stroking along your jaw as he leaned in close. "I'm always getting hard listening to you. Fuckin' my own fist and pretending it's you."

"You— What?" You gulped, your face blushing profusely. You admitted, you did find him a attractive as hell, but never had you thought that he'd have such lewd thoughts about you.

"You were always whispering sexy things in your sleep, about wanting someone to fuck you hard." The man smirked, his hand running gently down your arm before lifting his thumb to trace your collarbone. "It only made me want you more… The fact that you’d be so bold to make those noises while I’m here."

He reached out to take your hand to place it on his crotch, which already seemed to have a tent formed in it due to his erection. You gulped as he forced you to feel his hard-on, and you looked up at him, sweating a little.

"You could... Hear that? I didn't realise I spoke in my sleep..."

“Well, now you know." Your friend smirked, still holding your hand firmly against his crotch. "You were really anything but quiet. But truly. Your voice was like music to my ears." Dazai whispered, holding a smug grin. "I couldn't get enough of it." He leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "And I still can't."

You felt like you couldn’t say anything. You just remained seated where you were, hesitant to crawl further towards him; but your hand was still confidently placed on his pants, which you could feel was growing tighter by the second.

"(Y/n)..." Dazai moaned softly, his hand moving to your thigh. "You're making this so fuckin’ hard for me..!" He chuckled gravelly. "How about this, sweet..." He purred, his fingers lacing with yours as he began to guide you to the space between his legs, his other hand moving down your thigh to tease at you. "If you like the feel of this..." He trailed off, his thumb brushing against your clothed cunt. "Maybe you could return the favor? Come on. I’ll talk you through how to suck dick well.”

After a moment, you just nodded, feeling as if you were complying completely.

“Okay… As long as you tell me what to do…” You sat on your knees between his thighs on the couch, loosening the bands of his sweatpants so you could pull it down— He had helped you with that.

“Atta girl." Dazai murmured, his voice rough with desire as he watched you undress him. He had even leaned back against the couch, giving you plenty of room to work. "Just take your time and pay attention to how I react." He purred, his hand reaching down to guide your hand to his base. "…C’mon... Touch it. Take it all in your hand. Feel how hard it is for you."

As he fished his cock out of his pants, you seemed a little intimidated by how big he was— you started to understand what women saw in him… Had this been the first time you had actually seen a dick in person? You took his length into your palms, trying to adjust yourself to the feeling before looking up at him and awaiting further command.

“Good." Dazai praised softly, his voice hoarse with need. "Now, slowly, start to stroke up and down." He instructed, watching as your hand began to move in time with his words. "Don't worry about being gentle. I like it when you're firm."

You started firmly stroking your hand up and down the length of his cock, interested in how warm he felt in your palm.

"That's it." He encouraged, his hips starting to roll slightly in time with your strokes. "You're doing great." He murmured, reaching down to run a finger lightly over your lower lip. "Tell me... do you like touching me like this?"

“It… Feels okay…” You said softly, continuing to run your hand up and down his cock.

"Just okay?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow playfully. "To me, I'd say it looks pretty fucking hot seeing you touch me like this." He leaned back against the sofa, leaving you more space to work with. “Now, I want you to use your tongue.”

“My—?” You stammered, not stopping your hand movement. “Like… What do I do? Do I just— Do I need to put it all in my mouth?”

"No, not yet." He reassured you. "Just tease me with with your tongue; run it along the underside of my cock." He watched as you complied, his member twitching slightly at your touch.

You leaned down forward a bit so you could run your tongue up the length of his dick. You seemed a little surprised with the surface of how it felt, but you let your taste travel the entire length before you got to the tip, where you swiped a lick over the slit of it.

“Fuck." He hissed, his hips jerking up slightly. "That feels so good." He groaned, his hand sliding into your hair to grip gently. "Keep going, (Y/n)." He encouraged, his voice thick with lust.

You kitten-licked his cock, your tongue licking stripes up his dick like it was some piece of candy. The view of you from above only aroused Dazai more- Which you could tell by the way he subtly attempted to lush your head down.

"Oh god—“ He groaned, unable to get the words out fast enough. "You feel fucking incredible." His hips jerked up, his cock twitching almost painfully against your mouth. "Suck on it, (Y/n), suck me off. Take the tip into your mouth first.” He demanded, his grip on your scalp tightening.

You followed his command, finding the tip of his cock and planting a soft kiss onto it before you took it into your mouth. Once the tip was settled between your wet lips, you began licking at it from the inside of your mouth.

“Oh, fuck." He shakily breathed out, his hand sliding from your hair down to your neck, gripping it lightly. "You're doing so good, baby." He praised, his voice rough with need. "Don't stop, just keep going. Take more of me down as you go.”

You nodded, holding the base of his cock with your hand as you gradually began taking more of his dick inside of your mouth as you sucked on him. Your tongue swirled from his tip down to the veins of his length, your saliva coating his cock.

"Shit." Soft groans were heard from his lips, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back against the couch cushions. His voice was thick with lewd noises, almost hoarse from the sound of it. "(Y/n)— Fuck, that feels so good." Dazai moaned, thrusting his hips forward slightly. "Don't stop, baby. Come on—" He encouraged, sliding his hand down to your cheek to rub lightly.

Your head bobbed up and down on his cock, and you quickly realised that the parts that you couldn’t reach with your tongue, you could just stroke with your palm. Your slurping became more aggressive as you found your rhythm, and the pace in which you sucked him off became more steady.

“Fu-uck—" You could vividly hear his panting, hands gripping the couch behind him. He could feel himself getting close, his hips starting to buck forward more forcefully as he gave in to the pleasure you were giving him. "Your mouth is so fucking amazing, you sure you’re not a virgin?”

You continued, feeling fuelled by his praise and wanting to suck him off more simply because of how much he seemed to enjoy it. You also seemed to get off to how much his muscles tensed at your tongue. Dazai moaned— Almost a little too needily— hips jerking up forcefully. His head was thrown back, eyes closed tight as he tried to get closer.

"Don't stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—“ He whined out. “(Y/n). I'm about to cum. Fuck. Fuck." Dazai’s breathing hitched as he watched you, his fingers tangling in your hair lightly. He could feel his climax building fast, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. "Fuck...”

You kept at the pace you were going at, but your sucking became more desperate as you wanted to know how it would feel to make a guy cum— And partially because of how nice Dazai sounded when he whimpered.

“(Y/n), open your mouth." He ordered, voice low and demanding. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, and he didn't want to cum in your mouth without permission.

Though thankfully, he didn’t have to. You did as you were told quite obediently, and immediately opened your mouth wide to him, your tongue laid flatly as you let him in. Dazai looked down at your opened mouth, eyes dark with lust. He could feel his climax rushing up fast, his cock throbbing against your soft inside.

"Swallow, (Y/n)." He warned.

As his reddened tip spurt his seed into your wet mouth, you didn’t even need to be told twice before you swallowed it almost immediately without a second thought. Your face seemed to contort a little as you hadn’t expect the cum to taste so salty, nor did you expect it to have such an odd consistency, but you swallowed nevertheless.

Dazai let out a shaky breath, his hips jerking back against the couch.

“Fuck." He panted, unable to believe how good that felt. He looked down, eyes soft and smouldering. "I really shouldn't have let you do that." He sighed as he felt your warmth envelop his cock, swallowing him down. He groaned deeply, his body shuddering from the intense release. "Shit, (Y/n)..."

“Why not…?” You queried innocently, swiping off the cum that dropped from the corner of your lips to swallow in your mouth.

"Because now I want more." He had confessed, running his fingers through her your gently. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I know you're not ready for what I really want." He whispered, his voice low and rough.

[shybunnie20]

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, includes swearing.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute. 

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess. 

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy,” Eddie smirks. “Could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha,” you leer, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs, “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight,” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily. 

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.  

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it. 

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.” 

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah,” Eddie answers. Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll,” Eddie cautions, pointing the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope,” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously,” Eddie says while reaching for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie reaches for the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is,” Eddie exclaims. He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," You offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips, “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best,” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There,” you adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah,” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He adds, pulling a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly,” you scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe,” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together,” his voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as he’s capable. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah,” you maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back,” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?” 

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight,” He says, striding toward the front door.

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one,” He insists and heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so,” his tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you say, begrudgingly taking it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated,” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing,” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass,” You whine.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter. 

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently,” you acknowledge, barely having the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” You suggest as you struggle to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing,” Eddie confirms, “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the eerily quiet hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked, “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off, “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve,” Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He asks, instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid,” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you,” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong, I thought-”

“You’re not and you didn’t,” you choke out. “They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault,” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry,” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there,” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch,” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me,” you grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you,” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little,” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful,” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” he nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too,” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Holy shit.”

“You can say that again,” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could,” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that,” you smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you, “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much,” you remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though,” You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity | Jeongin

Jeongin x Gn!Reader

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You’d never thought of yourself as “weak.” Sure, you were aware you weren’t as tough or unshakeable as some others, but you knew you had your own strength, in your own way. So when Jeongin threw out that one, seemingly harmless comment – “You’re a little fragile, huh?” – it cut deeper than you expected. It wasn’t even the words so much as the way he’d said it, casually, almost dismissively, like it was something that didn’t need much thought. Like he just assumed it was true.

You brushed it off at first, telling yourself it was just a passing comment. But as the days went by, the thought began to settle, slowly festering.

Maybe I am fragile, you thought bitterly. Maybe I’m not enough.

That night, you found yourself in Jeongin’s apartment, doing your best to act normal. But deep down, there was a knot in your stomach. You were trying to smile, to laugh, but something felt off, like there was a weight holding you back from feeling fully present. It was as though everything you said or did was under a harsh spotlight.

Jeongin was always so unshaken, so composed in the face of stress. Whether he was handling work, navigating personal issues, or just being his usual easygoing self, he didn’t seem to falter. His resilience was like armor, and you found yourself feeling smaller, somehow inadequate. How could you measure up to that?

It didn’t take long before you started questioning yourself. You’d catch yourself second-guessing your every reaction, wondering if you were being “too sensitive” or overreacting, fearing that any display of emotion or vulnerability would only confirm what Jeongin already seemed to think of you.

Jeongin was oblivious to all this, busy as he was with his own routines. When he noticed you acting a bit distant, he figured it was just stress or a bad week. But then, a few days later, he walked in on you talking to Minho. The two of you were laughing, and you looked more at ease than you had in days. Jeongin tried to brush off the feeling of unease that crept up on him, but he couldn’t shake it. Seeing you with Minho brought on an unfamiliar pang of jealousy.

Later that night, unable to contain his own insecurity, he texted Minho, trying to keep it casual but unable to mask the edge in his words. “You and Y/N seem close these days. Something I should know?”

Minho’s reply was blunt, as usual. “We’re friends. I’ve just been there for them. You’d know that if you paid a little more attention.”

Jeongin frowned at his phone, Minho’s response sinking in. The comment gnawed at him, making him wonder if he’d been missing something all along. The following day, he confronted Minho in the studio, unable to hold back.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N?” Jeongin’s voice came out a bit sharper than he intended.

Minho just sighed, his expression softening as he looked at Jeongin. “Nothing’s going on,” he replied firmly. “Y/N’s been going through something, though. They feel like they’re… I don’t know, like they’re too sensitive for you or something. They think you see them as weak.”

Jeongin’s face fell, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I… I never meant to make them feel that way.”

Minho nodded, watching the realization dawn on Jeongin’s face. “Look, I don’t know what exactly happened, but you might want to talk to them. They’re really trying to toughen up, all because they think you need someone stronger.”

Jeongin could barely process Minho’s words as he turned on his heel and hurried to find you.

When he finally sat down with you that night, he didn’t waste any time. “Y/N… have I made you feel like you’re not enough?”

The question caught you off guard, your heart pounding as you tried to brush it off. “It’s nothing, Jeongin. You didn’t mean it like that.”

Jeongin’s hand reached for yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. “No, please,” he said softly. “I think I really messed up. I’ve been so busy, I didn’t realize what my words were doing to you.”

You stayed quiet, swallowing hard as you tried to push down the knot in your throat. But Jeongin kept his gaze steady on you, his expression open and sincere. “You don’t have to pretend to be anything other than who you are for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean it the way you took it. When I said you were ‘fragile’… I was just talking. I didn’t think about how it would sound. I didn’t realize it would make you feel like you needed to change for me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Jeongin’s thumb brushed it away gently. His face softened, guilt evident in his eyes. “I know I made a stupid comment. I was careless. But I never, ever wanted you to feel like you weren’t strong enough. That’s the last thing I’d ever want.”

You felt the last bit of tension slowly fade as Jeongin’s words settled into your heart. His apology didn’t erase the hurt, but there was something real, something healing, in his sincerity. He wasn’t trying to fix you; he was trying to understand you.

His hand remained on yours, grounding you as he spoke. “I love you for exactly who you are,” he murmured, his voice breaking just a little. “Not because you fit some idea of what I need, but because you’re real, and you’re you. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you needed to be someone else for me.”

Your heart softened, the hurt melting away as Jeongin’s words washed over you. He saw you, all of you, even the parts you’d tried to hide, and he was here, offering you the space to just be yourself.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Jeongin,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, but the weight of your gratitude said everything you couldn’t put into words.

In that moment, as you sat there together, you knew you didn’t have to prove anything. Not to him, and not to yourself. And in that knowledge, you found a quiet, profound strength you hadn’t known was there all along.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

You up?

Need you. Now.

Can’t wait.

The repetitious vibrations from your phone pull your attention away from the open book resting against your thighs and over to where it lay on your mattress next to you. Grabbing it, you press the button on the side that turns on the screen and check the clock in the upper right hand corner. It’s later than you thought, but being the night owl you are meant that you were still up messing about even if you shouldn’t be.

He knew it.

Rolling over to your side as you read and reread the short messages, discarding your book to the other side of the bed, the sudden racing pulse through your veins makes your stomach cartwheel. It didn’t take much these days to get your body aching for a certain Lieutenant, not when he’s texting you shit like that at this hour.

As quickly as your fingers can type you text Ghost back, an instantaneous need swelling inside at the thought of being with him again.

And what if I am?

You need something?

Not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes to life again and quickly you read the bubble that pops up on screen.

Are you going to get that sweet arse over here or not, luv?

A flutter in your chest makes your breath hitch as you jump up from your bed and throw on whatever articles of clothing that are within reach; time is of the essence. Doesn’t matter what the hell it is when you know Ghost will be tearing them off you the moment you get to him anyway. Things usually get hot and heavy pretty fast when you two are together, so the only real rule that you stood by was less is best as that meant you could get to the deed that much quicker.

Both of you knew why you’d be there, no sense in beating around the bush when he could immediately be diving into one.

With slow, careful movements and silent steps, you leave your quarters and set out across the base towards your superiors room. Once you’re outside you keep to the shadows, trying to minimize any unwanted attention to the fact you are out far too late and that your destination just happens to be where the officers are housed; getting stopped now will not be ideal. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

He’s already waiting for you when you arrive. Your knuckles barely touch the surface of the door before you hear the lock click and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless, brown-eyed Adonis staring straight back at you. It’s clear from his ruffled, unkempt locks and wrinkled sweatpants that he had not been successful in trying to get to sleep before his desire grew into a beast too difficult to handle alone.

"Fancy meeting you here," you pick at him as he reaches for your arm and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. “What’s that, like the third time this week alone?”

As he turns back to you Ghost’s sight locks to your body, slowly taking you all in as he eyes you up and down, hunger glistening through his gaze. "Is that complaining I hear?" he smirks. "I’m not apologizin’, luv. Do you know what you fucking do to me?"

"I have an idea," you breathe as that imposing figure of prime masculinity moves in closer, "but you know I’ve always been a bit of a visual learner, so why don't you show me again?"

A smile that could make Satan blush flashes across his lips and with a growl that sets you shivering with anticipation, Ghost closes the short distance between you and leans in, pulling you against his warm, tight chest as he meets your mouth greedily with his.

“mmm … mmh… !” he groans into you.

A series of frantic, heated kisses overwhelm your lips as if he is trying to devour every bit of that soft, full pout as he can; how can someone’s kiss feel like heaven? Your rapidly palpating heart makes your head buzz as he pours his desire into you and you respond in kind by meeting his intensity with your own.

Breaking away for only a moment, his hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head and off to remove any barrier between the both of you. He tosses it out of the way and moves back against you, nearly crushing you in between him and the door as he can’t stand being separated.

Warm breath is at the side of your head. "Need to feel you," he groans near your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and giving it a bite. Your ears pick up the sound of his breath hitching as he comes apart at the sensation of your breasts plastered to his chest, hands surveying the rest of the skin available to him.

“Goddamn, I feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire. Don’t know what spell you fucking have me under sweetheart, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you say against his swollen lips, “to become your problem.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans before his mouth latches back on to your own.

You already are.

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. That insatiable appetite is something of a marvel as you both had been messing around for a couple of months and yet his texts seem to come at a more frequent rate now than when you started. Nothing is more euphoric than to be desired to the point of obsession, especially when it came to someone like the Lieutenant; there’s something primal in the way a big man possesses you.

Without warning his hands clasp securely around your waist as he picks you up so that you can wrap your thighs around his hips, your back slamming harshly against the door for leverage. The sound of your body bouncing off the surface echoes through the quiet room as that sculpted body of his presses firmly into you so the prominence of his arousal can be felt as he grinds it up into the crotch of your pants.

His face is still joined to yours and the sensation of his tongue pressing against your mouth brings you back to reality, impatiently knocking for entry, and you part your lips so that he can slip the thick muscle inside. He shoves it within the confines of that wet cavern so that it can do its exploring while it dances alongside your own tongue; he sure does enjoy keeping all your holes nice and stuffed full.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more.

You both are on the move now and you have to lock your arms around his shoulders to hang on as he makes the short distance to the bed not a few feet from where you are and sets you down. He kneels before you on the floor, pulls you to the edge, and in one swift motion his hands are on your pants before they are suddenly off you and next to him.

Even in the dim light of the small room, you can see how his eyes shimmer with lust and want, a predators gaze just before they go in for the kill. This man would be the death of you, but what a glorious death it would be.

“Lay back for me,” he demands and you follow.

A powerful grip is placed on each one of your inner thighs to spread them wide as Ghost moves them to sit on his shoulders where they will rest as he works. Leaning in towards your cunt he goes in face first with no hesitation like a starved man read to eat his first meal in days.

With shaky hands you cling to the sheets for dear life as the he nestles the tip of his tongue between your petals, gathering your sweet juices along his taste buds as he drags it across the length, teasing circles around your aching clit before thrusting up against it. There he begins to stroke with languid movements along that organ of pleasure, go in with all he has amidst the sound of your mewls at the pleasurable sensation.

Goddamn you taste good.

That face with its beautifully chiseled features is buried so deep in you Ghost can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his movements all work together to fuel the passion for your cunt. On his knees between your legs is his favorite place to be, listening to the symphony you make, even with the threat that you’d lock your legs around his head; god, he hoped you would.

Your eyes clamp themselves shut as your head falls back while another back-arching vibration of pleasure hits your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to breathe when your brain had lost all its functions. Ghost’s intense pace never slows even as you writhe violently across his face, your sweet nectar coating itself across his cheeks. Oh no, it only fuels him more; he’d drown against you and still say thank you.

Ghost’s hands move up further on your hips suddenly, pulling you against his face until he is latched so securely that you can not buck him off. There is not anywhere for you to go at this point and the only thing you can do is ready yourself as that warmth in your stomach grows stronger and stronger, your toes curling with each thrust of his tongue.

Releasing your grip on the sheets, you bring your hand down and ruffle your fingers through his hair and he moans into you. “Sh-shit,” you stutter breathless. The pace is steady, sucking and stroking, but it’s intense as the minutes pass without any sign of him letting up. You know there will be no mercy found for you here; Ghost will stop when his job is done and not a second before.

Tiny beads of sweat speckle your body as you burn under his touch and he smirks against you, feeling how hard he is working you as the perspiration hits his fingertips. The pressure was overwhelming and your hips rock with him trying to get you there.

There is nothing more beautiful than the mess he is always making out of you lately and if he has his way he will keep you on your back almost constantly.

Pressure building, warmth gathering, the precipice within reach with each stroke. Relentless he feasts with fervor until your eyelids flutter shut.

Right there. It’s right fucking there. Just a few more licks of his tongue, a few more precise hits and that is going to be all.

It’s coming, the plunge. Ghost’s fingernails are piercing the skin of your hips as a few more deliberate strokes of his tongue on your clit cause your butt to lift up of the bed as your orgasm rips through you.

Your thighs clamp around his ears, blocking him in against you and yet he doesn’t stop. The entirety of your ecstasy you ride out with him licking and sucking until you sink into the mattress, breathing through the pleasure. After a moment you look down to see the demon emerge from you with a smirk strung across his mouth that sparkles with your slick.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sighs and stands to his feet, fingers capturing the drawstrings to his pants and with a pull the tie untangles itself so that the slack fabric can hang low on his hips.

“What?” you play, knowing what he wants and even though you are still catching your breath, you are more than ready to give in to him.

“You know damn well what. Night’s still young, luv,” he says as he slips the waistband down even lower, “and now it’s my turn.”

He isn't finished with you yet, not even close.

His desire is beyond reason now, even more than before, and it fills his gaze as he stares back at you. No movement yet as Simon allows that bit of tension to linger in the air before he pounces.

Fuck anymore foreplay, this can’t hold off any longer.

Those legs of yours you have kept open, inviting him back, but this time with his cock instead of his tongue. He moves back in, dropping his pants off his legs and stepping out of them. A quick order he barks to move back further onto the bed has you scooting and he is following you, crawling across the surface with the power and grace of a lion before he goes in for the kill.

“You ready for me, princess?” he growls.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyed gaze watching him as he prepares to claim you again. “Give it to me,” you say and that is all the confirmation needed.

Sliding between your thighss as he parts them as easily as a knife through warm butter, he pushes one back where your knee is near your chest while the other is straight beneath him; he wants to get as deep as he fucking can. There is no hesitation as with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock, his balls bouncing off your ass.

“Ahh…” you cry out as you stretch to capacity to accommodate all of him, your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulders as your body adjusts to his mighty girth.

Ghost bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body gives him is enough to make the man see God.

“Goddamn sweetheart, the way you feel around my fucking cock,” he groans, “just want to keep it in you at all times. If I had my way, you’d stay on your back all day every day.”

Obsession is not quite the word, but you already have the man wrapped around your little finger. The things he'd do to have you at this point border on the diabolical.

There is no holding back once he starts thrusting in and out, desperate to find his rhythm, not with how wet and tight you are; it is paradise. Soon enough that pace is set and you are joining him in grinding your hips against his pelvis. Ghost rests his forehead against yours, rough, strong fingers finding your hands so that they can lace themselves in between the paces of your own as he holds them above your head. The building pressure causes him to start panting.

“O-OHH, FUCK…!!” he exclaims as you tighten yourself on his cock, putting those kegel practices to good use just to see him falter.

It is not expected and throws him off a moment; he’s the one that is suppose to be showing that pussy who’s boss, but you’ve taken the reins with that one move. Someone is bound to hear him and yet he can’t be bothered to quiet himself. If you want to make sure this stays a secret, you shouldn’t pull moves that can bring him to his proverbial knees.

Time after time he feels the need to remind you in breathless moans how you are his, but if Ghost is honest you have him fucking whipped; not that he is going to let you know that. Still, if you pay close enough attention you will be able to tell the signs, like the way he is utterly falling apart now. Fuck, he needs to come so bad now he can taste it.

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. He needs to take over your entire being, possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you but him.

Releasing your hands, he moves back to sit taller on his knees so that he can put the most leverage behind his thrusts. He helps you to reposition so that both of your thighs are now secure high on his hips; you are going to need to hang on for this. Abdominals are straining along his torso, contracting down with each movement until they are coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration.

“Com’ on, pretty girl, you goin’ to give me another?” he grunts. The knot in your brows and the way your mouth hangs slack must say it all. He’s going to make you come again.

You nod furiously, focusing on that warm gathering in the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, sweetheart, com’ on. I deserve to feel you this time. Com' on my cock, slather it nice and proper.”

Hips rolling as if his life depends on it, he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. It’s working, your back is arching, and release is gaining on you. “Yes, y-yes,” you choke out.

The pressure is overwhelming and your hips buck, the pain of over-stimulation turning to pleasure as your body readies itself to shoot that hot electricity through your limbs. Ghost presses the pad of his finger harshly up against your clit and with his thrusts working inside you, that is finally enough to make you spill.

Your second orgasm rockets through you, causing you to clamp down on him with fluttering walls. The sensation is enough to cause that deep ache to finally find its remedy and his pulls out of you quickso that he can coat your torso with his cum. You quickly reach down and grab his cock, stroking out all his has to give until he is shuddering and please with you to stop.

He has to sit back on his heels and just breathe a moment before he can move to grab something to clean you off, but soon he’s able to go off and grab you a towel, handing it to you as he falls on the bed beside you while you finish wiping off the last of his cream.

“So, I guess that means we’re done here right?” you playfully tease him as you throw the towel aside and lay back down.

Strong arms enfold you and pull him to his chest as he smirks, the euphoria of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

He catches your mouth with his to shut you up. “You should know fucking better than that, luv,” he says, nipping at your lips. “Price may own you when the sun is up, but that still a ways off. You and that sweet cunt of yours are mine until then.”

Hell, he cannot seem to ever get enough of you no matter how many times you frequent his bed. Those strong fingers draw lazy circles across your back, making you tingle as you come back down from your high

You chuckle sleepily, the consequences of you staying up so late mixing with the act you just performed. “I’ll be so tired, not gonna be able to run drills properly.”

“More complainin’?” he retorts. “I must not have finished the fucking job yet. You’ve been doin’ just fine with keeping up with your duties so far. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll make sure your proper exhausted just as I always do.”

[lovelygirlwithablog]

Heart on Trial | part 1

pairing: Harvey Specter x f!lawyer!reader

summary: Harvey Specter doesn’t let anyone in. But when his trusted associate starts slipping past his defenses, he’s forced to confront the feelings he’s tried to ignore. Torn between pride and desire, Harvey finally faces the truth—and this time, he’s willing to risk everything for you.

warnings: angst, mild language, slow burn, explicit content, smut, dirty talk, extra fluff, use of Y/N

word count: 2399 (bruh)

A/N: i came up with this idea after the first episode with Scottie; i kinda hate but love her at the same time (pls don't kill me) and i already feel Christmas coming so i wanted to make something winter themed ❄️ requests are open!

You always knew Harvey Specter was dangerous. Not in the obvious ways—the smug smirk, the razor-sharp suit, the ego big enough to fill his corner office. No, what made him truly dangerous was the way he could make you feel with just a look.

As his associate, you’d gotten used to being his confidante, his sparring partner, and sometimes the one person he could depend on when things got messy. But lately, it’s been different. There’s a spark simmering under every exchange, a tension that neither of you wants to name. And yet, every day, you find yourself pulled back into his orbit, craving the thrill of his attention while knowing it can never go further.

Until it does.

The stack of case files on your desk seemed to grow every hour. Between prepping depositions, reviewing contracts, and tackling the endless demands of high-profile clients, you barely had time to breathe. Pearson Specter was always high stakes, but today felt like a marathon. You glanced at the clock—already well past the time any sane person would have left the office.

In the quiet lull of the late evening, you caught sight of Harvey’s empty office across the hall, lights off, door slightly ajar. It was rare to see his space unoccupied; his presence filled the floor even when he wasn’t around. You tried to shake off the thought.

Tonight, though, you pushed those thoughts aside. You had your own cases to handle, and letting Harvey Specter occupy any more space in your mind was a risk you couldn’t afford—especially when your work was demanding every last bit of focus you had left.

You were deep in thought, lost in a mountain of documents, when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. Glancing up, you saw Mike Ross heading your way, a lopsided grin on his face that made it impossible not to smile back.

“Hey, do you have a second?” he asked, leaning casually against your desk, his eyes sparkling with that hint of mischief you’d come to love.

“Always for you,” you replied, raising an eyebrow playfully. “What’s going on?”

“I need your genius brain for a minute,” he said, feigning seriousness but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I’m trying to figure out the Thompson case, and I think I might be missing something important. Can you help me out?”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you regarded him with mock suspicion. “You mean you just want to avoid doing all the hard work yourself?”

“Hey, I thought we were friends!” he laughed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “But seriously, I’d really appreciate your input. You always see things I miss.”

“Alright, alright,” you said with a chuckle, pushing aside the files in front of you. “Let’s take a look."

Time passed away fast. The soft hum of the office lights felt more pronounced in the quiet, and you could sense that it was time to wrap things up.

"Alright, I think we’ve gone through enough for tonight," Mike said, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

You chuckled, glancing at the scattered files on your desk. "Yeah, I guess we’ve done enough detective work for one evening."

Mike stood up, pushing his chair back with a grin. "I’ll race you to the elevator. Loser buys the first round of drinks next time we go out."

"Oh, you’re on!" you replied, jumping to your feet. You both made a break for the door, laughter hearing in the empty office as you raced down the hallway.

As you walked toward the exit, you could feel the chill in the air creeping in through the glass doors. When you pushed the door open and stepped outside, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight. Snowflakes were falling gently from the sky, blanketing the city in a soft, white layer. The streetlights cast a warm glow on the freshly fallen snow, making it sparkle like diamonds.

“Wow, it’s snowing!” you exclaimed, momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of it.

“Looks like we’re in for a winter wonderland,” Mike said, a grin spreading across his face. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. “Well, I should get going before the roads get too bad. You’ll be okay getting home?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you assured him, though you were aware of the distance you still had to walk.

“Alright, see you tomorrow!” he called, giving you a quick wave as he turned and started down the sidewalk, his figure slowly disappearing into the snowy haze.

You watched him go, the thrill of the snowfall filling the air around you. Just as you were about to head in the opposite direction, you heard a familiar voice call out.

"Hey, Y/N!"

Turning, you saw Harvey striding toward you. He looked effortlessly handsome, even in the cold, wearing his tailored coat with a purposeful air.

“Harvey!” you replied, a smile breaking across your face. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just heading out and thought I’d check in,” he said, his gaze flickering to the snowfall around you. “I see you’re still working. You shouldn’t be out here alone in this weather.”

“I was just about to head home,” you said, brushing off the concern. “Mike just left.”

“Let me give you a ride,” he offered, the warmth in his voice making you feel at ease despite the cold. “It’s not safe to be out in this.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the snow piling up on the sidewalk, then nodded. “Okay, that would be great. Thanks.”

With a slight nod, Harvey led you back toward his car.

Harvey opened the car door for you, his hand brushing against yours as you slid into the passenger seat. The warmth inside was a welcome contrast to the cold outside.

As he drove, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminated his profile, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and his gaze.

“Here we are," he said as he pulled up in front of your building. The snow continued to fall.

“Thanks for the ride, Harvey,” you said softly.

He just nodded and looked at you with those beautiful, brown eyes.

As you stepped out of Harvey’s car, the chilly air hit you, but you still felt a bit warm from the ride. You wrapped your scarf tighter and waved goodbye.

Once inside your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and tossed your coat over a chair. You wandered into the kitchen and made a cup of tea, breathing in the warm, cozy smell.

You plopped down on the sofa with your tea in hand, feeling finally relaxed.

The next morning, you arrived at the office. As you settled into your desk, you barely had time to open your laptop before Jessica’s voice rang out.

"Y/N L/N. Come in my office. Now."

You felt a jolt of nerves and quickly made your way to her office, knocking lightly on the door before stepping inside. Jessica was already on the phone, concentrated. She ended the call and gestured for you to sit.

“I need you to take on a case,” she said, her voice firm. “It’s time-sensitive.”

You blinked, processing her words. “What kind of case?”

“It’s against Harvey’s client,” she replied, locking eyes with you.

You felt your stomach drop. “But… that means I’m going to work against Harvey.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jessica said, her tone unyielding. “I need someone I can trust, and you’re the best fit for this. Here’s the situation: the client is being accused of fraud in a high-profile deal, and the evidence is stacked against them. We need to prove their innocence quickly, or they could face serious consequences.”

You blinked, trying to process the implications. “What exactly do I need to do?”

Jessica leaned forward, her expression serious. “I need you to gather evidence, interview key witnesses, and build a defense strategy. You’ll have to dig deep, and it may involve getting information that’s tightly held. It’s going to be challenging, but I believe you can handle it.”

Your heart raced as you considered the weight of the task ahead. “But working against Harvey—”

“I know it’s complicated,” she interrupted, her tone softening slightly. “But this isn’t personal. It’s about doing what’s right for our client. And if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. “Okay, I’ll do it,” you said, though uncertainty hung in your throat.

"Good. I’ll brief you on the details and put you in touch with our investigators,” Jessica said, already pulling up the case files on her computer.

You nodded, steeling yourself for what was to come, knowing you were about to step into a conflict that could change everything.

You returned to your desk, feeling a mix of determination and anxiety swirling within you.

You opened the case files Jessica had given you and immersed yourself in the details, focusing on the accusations of fraud and the evidence against the client. With each page you turned, the weight of the situation pressed down harder, but you pushed through, reminding yourself that you had a job to do.

As the hours passed, you stole glances at Harvey’s office, half-expecting him to come out and greet you with his usual confidence. But he was deeply engrossed in his own work, the door mostly closed, leaving you to your thoughts. You didn’t have the courage to approach him, not when you were about to undermine everything he was working on.

You were on opposite sides now, and that realization stung more than you expected.

Lunchtime came and went, and you barely noticed as you powered through your research. The few times you encountered Mike, he greeted you.

By the time the clock struck six, you had gathered a solid amount of information but felt drained from the emotional toll. You stood up, stretching and rubbing your neck, ready to head out for the day. Just as you were about to grab your things, you looked over to Harvey’s office one last time.

He was still there, leaning over his desk, completely focused on his work. A small part of you wanted to go in, to say something, but you hesitated, knowing you couldn’t. Instead, you sighed softly and walked toward the exit, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders.

As you left the office, the snowy streets greeted you once again, but this time, it felt different. The magic of the snowflakes didn’t reach you the way it had the night before.

Days passed, each one feeling heavier than the last. You worked diligently on the case Jessica assigned you, but every time you passed Harvey’s office, your stomach twisted with guilt. He was busy with his own cases, and you were careful to avoid him.

Finally, one evening, the office was quiet. Most of the staff had gone home, and you were focused on your work, buried in documents, when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up just in time to see Harvey standing in front of your desk, arms crossed, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low and tense.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you replied, feeling your heart race as you tried to maintain your composure. You stand up and look at him.

"You’ve been avoiding me for days,” he said, his tone sharper than usual. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ve just been busy with my new case,” you said, hoping it would suffice.

“Busy? That’s it?” He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You don’t just ignore someone like this without a reason. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, knowing you couldn’t keep avoiding it. “I… I’m working against your client, Harvey. Jessica put me on the fraud case,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression shifted, the anger giving way to disbelief. “What do you mean? You’re working against me?”

“I didn’t want to!” you exclaimed, frustration bubbling over. “Jessica needed someone to take the case, and she thought I could handle it. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“By completely avoiding me?” he shot back, his voice rising. “That’s not how this works! We’re supposed to be a team, and you’ve turned your back on me.”

You felt your heart race, anger flaring in response to his accusation. “I didn’t turn my back on you! I was trying to protect you! I thought it would be easier if I just stayed away.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away before turning back to you, frustration etched across his face. “Easier for who? Because it’s not easier for me, standing here wondering why the hell you won’t talk to me. I thought we had each other’s backs, no matter what.”

“We do!” you argued, your voice rising as the tension crackled in the air. “But this situation is complicated. I didn’t want to create conflict between us. I thought if I just kept my head down, it would be less messy.”

His eyes softened slightly, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “Less messy? This is a mess. You should have come to me, talked to me. Instead, you chose to shut me out. Do you even understand how that feels?”

Your chest tightened at his words, the weight of guilt crashing over you. “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn’t want to drag you into this.”

He stepped closer again, his voice low and heated. “You think this is just business for me? You think I can separate this from everything else? I care about you, and it hurts when you act like I don’t matter.”

“Maybe we both need some space,” you finally said, your voice barely a whisper, feeling the weight of those words settle between you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he replied, his eyes searching yours as if looking for an answer neither of you could find.

As he stepped back, the moment fractured, leaving a lingering ache in the air. You knew this was far from over, and the unspoken feelings hung like a storm cloud, threatening to burst at any moment.

To be continued ...

[augustinewrites]

[twenty-two minutes to midnight]

hange zoe is a special brand of stupid. 

at least that’s what levi thinks as his friend says, stupidly, “if neither of us are kissing anyone at midnight, i guess i’ll have to kiss you, levi.” 

levi ackerman makes it his special mission to be as far as possible from his friend before the clock strikes 12. when it comes to hange, his ever-scowling lips are for critical judgment and insults only. 

“pass,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes when they pout at him. 

“but what about all those times you asked me how to—”

“this conversation is over,” he deadpans, emphasizing his point by walking away. 

but levi has learned long ago that there’s no walking away from hange. they drags themselves up and away from the table to follow, throwing a heavy arm around his shoulders. “why not though? are you planning on kissing someone else tonight?”

their tone is teasing, but their eyes give them away. hange’s fishing for a specific answer. 

“no,” he answers much too quickly to be nonchalant.

his friend just smirks. “she’s here, you know. erwin said she just got back a few weeks ago.”

“i had no idea.” (he already knew.)

“she’s still single.”

“i don’t care.” (he might care.)

they hum thoughtfully. “so you wouldn’t mind if i kissed her instead?”

levi doesn’t answer this time, shoving his friend’s arm off his shoulder and trying to disappear into the party. 

erwin’s parties were always too big, in his opinion. he packed his penthouse apartment to the brim, and how anyone had this many friends, he had no idea. at least the sheer amount of people would allow him the opportunity to slip away, maybe hide in some quiet corner wearing a scowl that could repel the bravest souls.

(and if he hides, there’s no way he’ll run into you, right?)

[twelve minutes to midnight]

by merely thinking of you, levi’s mother would probably say he was tempting fate. his mother was almost always right, loathe as he was to admit it.

because, yeah, it’s barely twenty minutes later when he spots you across the room, sipping champagne while chatting with miche and hange. 

you have your back to him, but he knows that it’s you. it’s instinct— the way his eyes linger down the familiar shape of your body. he traces each curve draped in blue silk the way his hands once did.

levi could go over there. he could tell you that you look gorgeous in that dress. he could tell you that he misses you, needs you, loves you…

but then miche would make that face, and hange would fail to bite back that smile, and levi would have to block both their numbers and all their social media accounts again. 

he could tell you these things, but he’s never figured out how. levi likes to handle things on his own and refuses to show weakness to anyone. 

so he turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction instead, towards the kitchen to look for a drink. he wasn’t really one for alcohol, but he needed it tonight. 

he’s frowning over the various bottles when erwin appears, a knowing grin on his face. he has a habit of materializing out of nowhere when levi’s at his weakest.

“looking for anything in particular?” the blond asks. 

“just a beer,” he mutters. 

erwin hums, contemplative, then lists various drinks. “let’s see. there are have craft brews, ipa, winter wheat—”

levi makes a face. when the fuck did beer get complicated? “what the hell is a winter wheat?”

“it’s beer, levi,” he chuckles, shooting him an amused look. it lasts a second too long, and is followed by, “you saw her, didn’t you?”

“what does that have to do—”

“are we talking about levi’s love life?”

“no, we’re not,” levi snaps, shooting miche a warning glare that his dumb friend chooses to ignore. 

“come on, we’ve known about your crush for years now,” the man continues, judging him slightly. “remember when you got drunk on hange’s birthday?”

“ah, yes,” erwin sighs, as if he’s recalling a particularly fond memory. “when you announced that you sorely missed—”

“oh my god. i hate my life,” levi mutters, turning on his heel and making his escape as the two grown men giggle like schoolgirls. he grabs the most expensive looking bottle of liquor, yanking the cork out and tossing it onto the counter. 

“maybe you’ll hate your life less if you get laid!”

levi flips them both off before slipping out onto the balcony, content to hide out here until the countdown is over. the door slowly slides shut behind him, muffling the mellow music and cheery laughter inside. 

he sets the bottle he’d swiped on the parapet, looking out at the twinkling city lights. these parties were much too suffocating, full of bright-eyed people that seemed keen on conversing with him no matter how reproachful his gaze. 

he doesn’t turn around when he hears the door slide open and shut behind. he already knows who’s followed him outside.

winter here provides a crisp cool, but levi doesn’t mind, slipping his suit jacket off and tossing it onto a patio chair. you don’t seem to mind it either, bare back pressed against the parapet as you smile over at him.

“you didn’t say hello,” you murmur, leaning towards him. levi steals a glance at you, eyes wandering down the column of your neck to the tempting plunge of your neckline. 

“hey,” he grunts, holding out the bottle he’d swiped in offering.

you accept it, taking a small sip. your face immediately pinches in displeasure, causing levi’s to crack with a small grin. 

“how’s your night?” you ask out of nowhere. 

“bored,” he answers stiffly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the patio. “though i don’t suppose you actually care.”

you chuckle at that, your amusement barely audible over the breeze. you both know that’s not true. “just making conversation.”

“you’re pretty shit at it.”

the air between you both is suddenly hot, but levi shivers at the brush of your fingers against the corded muscle of his arm. your touch burns like fire across his skin as you murmur,

“shut me up then.”

his gaze falls to your mouth, pulse thundering in his ears as he leans forward and closes the distance. levi moves on instinct, locking a hand around your hip and pulling you closer. he swallows your surprised gasp with a kiss, but you don’t pull away.

he kisses you softly at first, each touch and movement of his mouth hesitant as he tests your boundaries. your hands move up his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt collar and somehow pulling him closer, kissing him back with a fervor that makes him dizzy. your insistent mouth parts his lips, sending tremors through his nerves and awakening sensations he wants to feel again. it’s a good kiss. not bad for the first one you share in front of your friends (who are all gathered at the window) announcing your relationship as the clock the strikes midnight.

[slut4thebroken]

Torture

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Spencer Reid x reader

Summary | You’re his therapist, but seeing you is torture for him, so he give you an ultimatum.

Warnings | Blackmail (but not really), praise kink, emotional manipulation, kind of, idk.

Words | 1k

Notes | Probably gonna do a part 2 I just don’t know when lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 9: prison

“Actually… there is something you could do to make me more comfortable here.” He said tentatively, waiting for your reaction. 

“What do you need? Anything.” You replied earnestly, not even hesitating for a second. 

You’ve developed a soft spot for Spencer since you’ve started working with him. To be honest it was more of a crush, but you did your best to remain professional. 

You’ve started giving him special treatment though. Like bringing him coffee, convincing the right people to add more books to the prison’s library, and sometimes even bringing him some of his favorite snacks to eat during the session. 

It took a while for him to open up and it took even longer for him to accept your kindness because he was adamant that he didn’t deserve it. He told you about what he’s done since being incarcerated and, while you agreed that those things were bad, you also knew that he was just trying to survive. 

Personally, you thought he was innocent, but you’re not the one who decides that unfortunately. 

“I’ve been in here for a few weeks now and… there’s something I’ve been struggling with a lot.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you waited for him to explain. “And quite frankly, seeing you every week just makes it worse.” He said solemnly. 

“What?” You asked in shock, a pit forming in your stomach. 

“I’ve been considering requesting a new therapist.” You felt your heart drop when he said that. 

“Tell me what you need, Spencer.” You pleaded, reaching across the table to hold his hands that were resting there. 

He hesitated, then shook his head a little. “It’s silly… You’re just going to laugh at me.”

“No- I would never. I promise.” 

He hesitated again for a moment before letting out a heavy breath and breaking eye contact, averting his gaze downward. “I’ve tried… using my hand, but it never satisfies the craving. It doesn’t come close to what I need— it only intensifies the need for something more.”

Your eyes widened and your lips parted in shock. He couldn’t mean…

“And I have an eidetic memory so it’s not like I need porn… I just— I need…” he trailed off and finally looked into your eyes again, making you swallow nervously. “You have no idea how.. intoxicating the touch of a woman is after being in a place like this. You're so soft, so gentle… and you always smell so good… It’s torture.” He confessed, his tone cautious, but with an underlying hunger. 

You opened your mouth, trying to find the right words and figure out how to respond, but it was getting harder and harder to think. 

“That’s why I don’t think I can handle you being my therapist if things continue like this.” 

“What,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to stop your voice from wavering, “what do you need?” You asked, even though you were pretty sure you already knew. His eyes flicked down again and this time you realized he was staring at your cleavage. 

“Why were you so insistent on the guard removing the handcuffs?” He suddenly asked, surprising you a little. 

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me… and I didn’t want you to have to feel even more dehumanized.” His eyes snapped up to your face and he tilted his head curiously. 

“Why did you think I wouldn’t hurt you?” His tone wasn’t overly dark, but there was a glint in his eyes that made you second guess yourself. 

“Y-You want to get out of here… You wouldn’t risk getting a longer sentence.”  You said, but you were starting to sound unsure. 

“You underestimate the power primal urges have over men in my position.” He said simply, then yanked your hands toward him, forcing your torso to fall onto the table. He only stopped pulling once he was close enough to feel your breath. The metal edge of the table was digging into your hips and you desperately wanted to move, but you were still frozen in shock. 

“Spencer,” when you tried pulling your hands away, he tightened his grip, “please let go of me.” 

“Why?” He snapped, becoming impatient. “You’re scared, but it’d be obvious to anyone that you’re turned on too.” You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. One of his hands released you to grab your neck, pulling you even closer, his nose almost brushing yours. “You have two choices.” His voice was already low and thick with arousal and you couldn’t help it when your thighs squeezed together. “You either surrender your body to me, or we finish the session as normal, then I request a new therapist.” 

The thought of not being able to see Spencer every week made your heart ache. 

Only a few minutes ago, his proposition would’ve seemed too good to be true… but now you’re starting to question how well you actually understood him. You could no longer say with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t hurt you.

The feeling of his restrained, ragged breaths fanning your lips was making it incredibly hard to think. Your gaze moved all over his face frantically, trying to get a better read on him after being completely blindsided.

“Three…” He whispered, making you stiffen. “Two…” 

Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest and just before he finished the count down, you blurted out, “Yes.” He raised his brows, silently telling you to say it. “The first… I choose the first one.” You said, sounding incredibly uncertain, but it was too late now. 

He grinned wolfishly and his hand tightened on your neck. “Good girl.” You let out a shaky breath that further amused him. He suddenly took his hands off you and sat back in his chair, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. “You have 15 minutes to make me come. Fail, and this will be the last time we see each other.” 

You choked on your spit at the bluntness of his words, but you could tell he was being completely serious. When you look at the clock, you confirmed there was only 15 minutes left of the session. 

“How?” You asked timidly, not wanting to disappoint him. 

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

[severinageto]

"Thus Spoke Kusakabe (or on the Arrogance of the Six Eyes)" ———— Drabble

Sometimes, Suguru wondered if there was a mirror big enough to reflect Satoru's ego.

“Can you see it, Suguru?” he murmured, adjusting his sunglasses with that theatrical gesture he had mastered so well. He looked toward the horizon, as if the entire world belonged to him. And, honestly, in those days, it did.

“Yeah, impressive,” Suguru replied simply, though he wasn’t entirely sure what Satoru was referring to. Saying anything else would’ve been a waste of time. Satoru wouldn’t listen unless it fed his insatiable need for admiration. Suguru had realized this the first day they met, just a few months ago. Half of their conversations were his monologues disguised as dialogues.

Gojo Satoru. The name echoed in every corner of the sorcerer world. Always the center of attention, the sun that illuminated everything around him. Even when he claimed not to want to be the center, there he was: dazzling everyone with his mere presence.

What irritated Suguru most, what made him smile despite himself, was that Satoru actually had reasons to be that way. He was brilliant, invincible, unstoppable. The strongest man of all. And he knew it. Oh, how he knew it.

“Do you know what’s the worst part of being me?” Satoru said with a half-smile, leaning on the rooftop railing. His blue eyes gleamed through his glasses, as if they held secrets no one else would ever understand.

“Enlighten me,” Suguru answered, in the same monotonous tone as always. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because in that short time together, he’d learned it was better to let Satoru talk.

“That there’s no competition.” His voice had a touch of false sadness; Suguru knew he was faking it. It wasn’t a real complaint, but a confirmation of his superiority, a kind of self-affirmation.

Suguru looked at him and thought about how easy it would be to hate him. Satoru wasn’t just arrogant; he was arrogance incarnate. But there was something about that arrogance that was captivating, even seductive. Something that made him that unattainable, almost divine figure.

However, from the first time Suguru saw him, he knew he would accept him just as he was.

Satoru was aware of that. He used his power, his charisma, and his appearance as just another weapon, maybe even more dangerous than his damn limitless domain. On the battlefield, invincible. In life, just as unreachable.

Ah, but not to him. It had only been ninety days as his partner, but Suguru already knew he was one of the few—if not the only one—who could get close to him.

“You must feel very lonely, don’t you?” Suguru commented, not really expecting an honest answer. He wasn’t naive enough to think Satoru would reveal what he really thought, what he really felt: that he was standing next to the only person who could truly challenge him.

Satoru glanced at him, surprised for a second. Then he smiled, but this time there was something different in his expression. Something more genuine.

“Only sometimes,” he replied, before his smile reverted to the one everyone knew—the smile of the "almighty Satoru Gojo."

“When you’re not with me,” he added with feigned nonchalance, adjusting his glasses again, as if he wasn’t showing his vulnerability in front of the only person who truly knew him.

“Thanks…I guess,” Suguru said, moving a bit closer without really knowing why.

Satoru blushed, and his body tensed. Suguru’s shoulder touched his. That was more than Satoru’s fragile heterosexuality could handle. He stepped back, grimacing.

“Or something like that. Don’t let it get to your head, okay?” Satoru teased sarcastically.

And there he was again, the charming narcissist, the invincible sorcerer, his future best friend and lover, and maybe the loneliest person Suguru had ever met.

Satoru was like that. He always would be. And though Suguru understood and accepted him, he couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding behind that mask of perfection.

Well, he would find out. There was a reason fate had brought him into Satoru’s life. There was a reason why, despite the short time they’d known each other, he felt like he understood Satoru better than anyone else. There was a reason why he felt as though Satoru was a part of him that he hadn’t known existed.

Could it be that he was falling in love with that insufferable brat?

He glanced at Satoru once more. The wind tousled his white hair, and for a second, he seemed more human. But only for a second.

Then, he was back to being Satoru. The one and only Satoru.

His Satoru.

—————- image by https://x.com/yuzuki0054?s=21

[bedoballoons]

All of this was amazing and then I saw the cheese stick as the favourite food and went- YESSSSSSS!!! Love this request, love cheese sticks and SUMERU BOYYSS. I miss them :(

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

{༻~Cheese stickies~༺}

CW: GN! Reader, Slight Tsundere vibes for the reader, fluffy! One mention of Wanderer calling the reader a idiot! One curse word...and yes Wanderer gets it :)

(Includes: Tighnari, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Wanderer, and Cyno!)

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari sighed as you shut the door tightly behind you, clearly upset that he'd forgotten your date night. He'd truly just gotten to busy with his forest ranger duties and didn't even realise it was today...buuut that still wasn't a good enough excuse to forget a date you set aside every week to spend time together and he knew that.

"How about I make it up to you? I'll take you out to shoot my bow like you've been wanting to?" He rested against the shut door, his ears twitching as he waited for your response..., "Guess not..." He bit his lip, thinking it over and then it hit him.

He smiled slyly and pushed off the door, his tail swaying behind him as he lit a fire, starting the process of making your all time favourite food. "I think I'll just make some cheese sticks then and spend the rest of the night alone..." He spoke loudly, knowing you'd hear him even with the door closed...there's no shot this didn't work.

"You're forgiven!" He jumped as you somehow appeared next to him, tummy growling and your face warm from the pan as you looked inside it happily. You're date night was now the least of your worries, "You're making lots right?!"

𑁍༄Kaveh:

"I'm truly sorry, I was so caught up in my new designs and what was going on with my work that I didn't even remember our date night...We could start now! I'll get out some snacks and we could watch the clouds?!" He smiled at you hopefully, but in return you just gave him a pouty face and turned away, not entertained by the idea in the slightest.

Had it been watching the stars at night like you were supposed to then you'd happily oblige, but no. This was the next day and you weren't gonna let him off that easily.

"Hmm" He touched his chin in thought, looking around your home for any ideas on how to fix the mess he'd made...untill his eyes landed on a picture of you two at the most recent festival. He was carrying prizes both of you had won and you were eating a large cheese stick with a smile he didn't even realise was possible. That was by far one of your funnest dates and it was the first time he'd heard of your favourite food..

Favourite food...

"Ah I know!" You looked at him curiously as he hurried into the kitchen, scrambling to collect your recipe book and the necessary ingredients. It didn't take long till you figured out what he was up to, the delicious aroma of fried, stretchy, yummy cheese sticks hitting you in waves. Any thoughts of the missed date absolutely escaping your brain as you stood next to him hungrily. "Forgiven!! Can I have a big plate! Please!!"

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

"Our date night was tonight? My bad, I thought it was tomorrow. I'm already reading my newest book collection, how about we go tomorrow instead?"

You stared daggers at him, clearly annoyed by his casual calmness over your forgotten date, over the night that was supposed to be the one you shared... "We can't go tomorrow, the reservation was for tonight...I sat there waiting for a hour! Do you not care? Ugh!" You stomped away from him, leaving him slightly stunned...

He closed his book with a loud snap, watching you slam the door behind you and sit in your shared room all alone. He felt bad to say the least, even with all the time he spent with you he still wasn't entirely sure how to handle situations like this one...he stood up and stepped towards the door, pausing once he saw the kitchen.

Your conversation about the restaurant you'd made the reservation at suddenly coming back to him. The only reason you wanted to go to that one was because they had your favourite food for cheap...and it was something that could be easily made..

He switched gears, walking to one of his shelves of books and searching for his recipe books, "Ah, here we go." He flicked through the pages until he found the one he was looking for, "Cheese sticks...not very creative name wise..." He heard movement in the room and pretended not to notice as you peaked out at him.

"No, that would never work. They won't forgive me just because I make them this.."

"YOU'RE FORGIVEN! I mean...ahem, I'll think about it if you make them.."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer huffed, trying to ignore the guilty feeling tugging at his non existent heart...it wasn't his fault Nahida had added a extra class for him to take care of and in return he forgot your date night. If anything it was you idiot fault for not reminding him more! No...that wasn't far to you, even he could see that he was in the wrong...and you'd reminded him at least four times before the day even arrived..

"Shit." He muttered under his breath. He looked at you as you sat as far away from him as possible, ignoring his existence the best you could with him in the same room as you. How could he fix this..."What do you want...kisses or cuddles or something?" You shook your head and scootched impossibly closer to the wall you were already up against.

He sighed in annoyance, not knowing what else you'd like or want so he could be forgiven. He felt bad, but that didn't mean he'd get on his knees and beg for forgiveness or buy you something worth millions of mora. You probably wouldn't like anything he bought you anyways...your favourite things were always those stupid-

He interrupted himself mid thought, leaving his spot so he could start preparing your food...he never cooked for anyone else and even though he cooked for you it was rare, but he knew this would make you smile at least. "Hey, do we have those cheese things...I'll fry some up.."

You instantly perked up, your attention snapping to him, "You're making cheese sticks??"

"...will you forgive me if I do...and I promise I won't miss another date night?"

"YES!!"

𑁍༄Cyno:

Cyno looked at you apologetically, he felt horrible knowing he'd missed the date you'd been looking forward to and even worse that it was because of a scheduling error on his part, "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful with my planning. How about I tell you a few jokes and we go for a walk, I've learned some really good ones from a book Alhaitham lent me..."

You shook your head and sat down at the table, doodling non existent things with your finger...your bottom lip stuck out in a pouty way. "It's to warm out to go for a walk...and even though I usually like your jokes, those don't make up for our date night.."

He figured as much, still he didn't want to just leave it on that...so how could he make it up to you? Suddenly he had a idea and if a light bulb could appear above his head it would have, because this idea was genius. "This might be cheesy...but perhaps we could cook some cheese sticks together instead? I know you love them~"

You tried not to smile at his silly pun, but before you knew it you had a big grin and were hurrying to help him make your favourite food. "I guess I can forgive you, after all, we should stick together. Get it?"

"You're even cheesier than me..."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

She's got us now

A dad!Vander fic (with my og character, Luna, Vander's fifth adopted child)

Set before Act 1.1.

Masterlist: there you go

Disclaimer: english ain't my first language folks

The Last Drop was louder than anywhere Luna had ever been before. The nights were the worst—crowds of people shouting over music, chairs scraping against the floor, and the occasional crash of glass breaking. It was overwhelming at first. Her small hands often clutched Vander’s shirt as she hid behind him as he stood behind the counter, her wide eyes darting toward every unfamiliar noise.

“It’s alright, Lu,” he’d say, his big hand resting on her shoulder. “Nothing to be scared of.”

When he said it, she tried to believe him.

But it wasn’t just the noise. The other kids—Vi, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder—were a whirlwind of energy that made her head spin. Vander wouldn’t let them go out alone at night (yet, when they were older they could, he always said), so they hung around in the evening sitting on a table by the wall, or messing around a little bit. Not that anyone minded, really. Vi was the loudest, always climbing something or chasing Mylo through the bar. Mylo talked a mile a minute, sometimes teasing Powder and now also Luna in a way that made her unsure if he was joking or not. Claggor was quieter but still intimidating with how easily he kept up with the chaos, kind of like Vander in that way.

And then there was Powder. Powder was closer to her size and age, with a wide grin and a streak of curiosity that seemed boundless; she was undoubtedly excited at having someone younger around, as the older kids tended to baby her from time to time. She was the first to approach Luna.

“Do you like dolls?” Powder had asked one afternoon, holding up a patched-together figure with button eyes.

Luna blinked, unsure how to answer. “I… don’t have one.”

Powder’s eyes lit up. “I can make you one!”

The blue haired girl hovered around her, asking endless questions. “Do you like colours? I love to draw! What’s your favourite food? Are you scared of spiders? I’m not. Well, okay, maybe sometimes.”

It was a lot, but Powder’s excitement was easier to handle than Mylo’s teasing or Vi’s confident energy. Vi, on the other hand, took her time warming up to Luna.

“She’s so quiet,” Vi had whispered to Vander one evening, looking at Luna sitting at the table, swinging her legs idly as Powder braided her hair (insisting that she had to wear it like herself). Mylo and Claggor were bickering over a game of cards nearby, their voices blending into the general hum of the bar. “Is she scared of us?”

“She’s just getting used to everything,” Vander replied, while cleaning the inside of a mug. “Give her time.”

“So… she’s going to stay with us? Permanently?” Vi asked, her tone uncertain. She wasn’t really sure how she felt about it. Not that she minded having someone else around, but it was another change. Another person to get used to.

Vander glanced at her, his expression softening. “She doesn’t have anywhere to go or anyone else to take care of her.”

Vi frowned, crossing her arms. She leaned her arms on the counter, her face scrunching in thought. “It’s just… we don’t even know her. What if she doesn’t fit in?”

Vander chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “And what exactly does ‘fitting in’ look like around here, huh?” He gestured toward Mylo and Claggor, who were now arguing loudly over whether Claggor had cheated in their game. Powder, meanwhile, was carefully arranging Luna’s hair into a lopsided braid, ignoring the two boys excellently as she chatted about her favourite toys she wanted to show Luna later.

Vi’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Fair point.”

“Look,” Vander continued, his voice quieter now. “When I found you and Powder, it wasn’t any different. You already knew me, yes, but you were also scared and you had gone through a lot, just like her.”

Vi looked down, her expression softening as she remembered. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And now look at you,” Vander said with a grin, ruffling her hair. “You’re the one making this place feel like home for the others. You’ll do the same for her. Just give it time. She’s going to be one of us, just like you, Powder, and the boys.”

Vi huffed but didn’t protest. “Fine. But she’s not gonna cry all the time, is she?”

Vander chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. That kid’s tougher than she looks, I’m sure of it. She’ll be okay,” he said, almost to himself. His voice had turned low, filled with quiet determination, the kind that always made Vi believe he could do anything. “She’s got us now.”

Vi watched him for a moment, the way his gaze softened as he looked at Luna, the way he crossed his arms over his chest and let out a deep, thoughtful breath. He wasn’t just saying it—he really believed it.

And if Vander believed it, maybe Vi could too.

Vi glanced over at Luna as well, watching her laugh quietly at something Powder had said, her small hands clutching the edge of the table as if she was still anchoring herself to this new world. Maybe Vander was right. Maybe she just needed time.

So, Vi tried in her own way. She offered Luna the better seat when they ate dinner and slowed down when explaining the rules of the games they played to include her.

“Tag’s easy,” Vi said one day, crouching down to Luna’s level. “If you don’t wanna play, that’s fine too.”

Luna hesitated but nodded. Vi grinned, grabbing her hand to pull her into the game.

“You just gotta run fast, okay?” Luna nodded. “Hide so that they don’t find you. If they don’t, you win!”

“But what if you never find me?” she asked, eyes wide showing her frighten.

“We will, don’t worry about that,” Vi laughed a bit, crouching down again to her level to look her into the eyes when she noticed Luna still didn’t seem at ease. “Hey, I promise. I’ll find you. Always. And if not me, then Vander, okay?”

That seemed to do the trick; it certainly did, when Luna would end up winning a lot of times because she would hide in the smallest of places. She would always wait for Vi or one of the others to find her in order leave her hiding spot, though, always making sure they found her.

Claggor was the first to win her over completely. Unlike Mylo’s teasing or Powder’s chatter, Claggor was steady, with a calmness that made him approachable even when Luna was feeling shy or overwhelmed. He was the one who helped Luna feel less lost in the chaos of the Last Drop.

The first time she followed him around the Last Drop, it wasn’t because he’d asked her to—it was because he was working on fixing something at one of the tables, and she was curious. She hovered nearby, not saying anything, just watching as he tightened a loose screw on a wobbly chair leg.

“You want to help?” he asked after a while, glancing up at her with a small smile.

Luna froze, startled. “I don’t know how.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll show you.” He handed her a screwdriver, holding her small hand in his for a moment to guide it into position. “Now turn it, like this. Slowly.”

She followed his instructions, her brow furrowing in concentration as she twisted the screwdriver. When the screw was snug in its place, she glanced up at him, uncertain.

“Perfect,” Claggor said, grinning. “Good job, Lu.”

From then on, she seemed to follow him around whenever he worked on repairs. He never complained, even when she slowed him down by asking too many questions or accidentally dropping tools. When she accidentally tipped over his toolbox, scattering screws and nails across the floor, she was afraid he’d be mad, and immediately scrambled to pick everything up, but he was calm about it.

“It’s okay,” Claggor said, crouching down beside her to help. “Happens to me all the time.”

“Really?” she asked, her wide eyes sceptical.

“Sure,” he said with a wink. “Once, I spilled everything right in the middle of the bar when it was full. Vander nearly tripped over me.”

That made her giggle, and Claggor grinned, satisfied.

When they weren’t fixing things, Claggor had a way of looking out for her without making a big deal out of it. If she was struggling to reach something on the counter, he’d quietly grab it for her. If Mylo’s teasing got a little too much, Claggor would step in with a simple “Knock it off, Mylo” that usually did the trick.

And when she was too nervous to speak up during one of their mealtimes, it was Claggor who noticed and slid the bread basket closer to her with an encouraging nod.

“You don’t have to ask,” he said softly. “Just take what you want. Nobody’s gonna mind.”

Even Mylo softened after a while. Though he still teased her (like most older brothers did to their younger sisters), his jokes became less sharp and more playful. One night, when they were all sitting at the table for dinner, Mylo leaned back in his chair, tossing a pickle from his plate to hers.

“Trade you,” he said.

“For what?” Luna asked cautiously, looking down at the pickle as though it might bite her.

“Nothing. I just don’t like pickles.” He grinned and added, “And you look like you do.”

She wrinkled her nose but took the pickle anyway, nibbling at the edge. Mylo smirked, satisfied, and went back to his meal. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it made her giggle—the first time she’d done so around him.

He remembered his first weeks after Vander had taken him in; he hadn’t been used to having a roof, a bed, food on the table… He had been unsure about everything at first, masking it with roughness and sharp bites whenever someone spoke up to him about it. And although he had grown into a teaser and he thought it was funny to annoy others from time to time, he also wanted to help Luna feel more at ease. He didn’t stop teasing her completely, but the edge in his voice softened. He’d say things like, “Careful, squirt, don’t trip over your own feet,” when she hesitated on the stairs, only to add, “Here, hold the rail like this,” as he showed her how to climb them more confidently.

When she joined the group to watch him and Claggor play cards, he scooted over to give her a better view of the game, though he kept up a running commentary that made her giggle.

“See, Lu, Claggor’s terrible at this. Don’t ever take advice from him about cards,” Mylo said, leaning close as though sharing a great secret.

“Hey!” Claggor protested.

“It’s true,” Mylo shot back, grinning.

“Don’t listen to him Lu, he cheats all the time!”

“I do not!”

“Yes you do!”

Luna only giggled.

One night, as the bar quieted down and they all sat around in the warm, dim light, Mylo noticed her watching him and Powder play a game with a set of battered dice.

“Wanna play?” he asked suddenly, holding up the dice.

Luna blinked. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll teach you.” He scooted over to make room for her on the bench, motioning for her to sit beside him. “Okay, so here’s how it works...” For the first few rounds, Luna struggled to keep up, biting her lip in concentration as she tried to understand the rules. Mylo teased her lightly when she made mistakes, but he always followed it up with a quick explanation or a playful grin to show he wasn’t serious.

“See? You’re getting it,” he said after she won her first round. “You might even be better than Powder soon.” Powder protested, glaring at him. “What? Just saying.”

Luna smiled, her confidence growing. It kind of broke the ice. By the end of her first week, she started to feel less like an outsider and more like she belonged, giggling and smiling more often.

It wasn’t sudden, and it wasn’t always easy, but every little moment helped her feel a bit more at home. The way Powder had smiled at her the first time she handed her a piece of bread. How Mylo had tried to teach her how to throw a rock just right in the alley, despite her clumsy attempts. Claggor’s quiet approval when she helped wash the dishes, and even the rare chuckles from Vi when she managed to get something just right in the makeshift kitchen.

But more than anything, it was Vander’s presence that made her feel like she was becoming part of something.

Every night, when the bar quieted down, and the sounds of the busy day faded into a quiet hum, Vander would make time for the kids. Late in the evening, when the others would be settling into their cots, murmuring amongst themselves or falling asleep with their heads buried under old blankets, Luna always waited for the moment when Vander would sit beside her bed, asking her about her day.

It was something she had come to look forward to, the time when the world outside faded away, and she could focus on something—someone—who made her feel like she wasn’t alone in this strange new world.

Luna hugged her blanket tight against her chest, the edges worn and soft. It was a gift from Powder, who had insisted she take it when Luna had no blankets of her own one of the first nights she had spent with them.

“They’re loud,” Luna said quietly, her voice unsure, her eyes still darting over to where the others were gathering nearby, talking and laughing in their own chaotic way. “But… they’re nice.”

Vander’s gaze softened as he watched her, his expression full of quiet understanding. He leaned a little closer, his large frame casting a comforting shadow over her bed. “They are,” he said with a small smile. “They’re your family now, Lu. You’ll see. They’ve got your back.”

Family.

The word seemed so big, so final. Luna didn’t fully understand it. She thought of the people she had met before, the ones who had taken her in for a night or two, fed her scraps, and then sent her away when their patience ran out. But there was something different about Vander’s words. They felt warm, like the sun on a cool day. Not demanding, not overwhelming, but steady.

Luna tucked herself deeper into the blanket Powder had given her, the edges soft against her skin. She glanced over at the others, who were talking about something she didn’t fully understand, but they weren’t laughing at her, or ignoring her. Powder was saying something about a machine she wanted to make with some metal scraps Claggor had given her, her voice animated as she waved her hands explaining it excitedly while Mylo told her to shut up and let him sleep.

Vander’s voice, calm and reassuring, pulled her back to the present. “We’re your family now,” he repeated, his hand gently brushing her hair back from her face. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, not anymore.”

The word didn’t seem as strange anymore. Family.

It felt safe. It felt like belonging. It felt right.