#so you guys gotta scream extra loud so i can hear it from across they bay. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carolmunson · 2 years ago

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let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie.

g’morning pretty ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go.

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture. “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.”

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it. “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?” “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.” “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again.

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :) see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :)

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning. You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.” “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you. “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks. “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.” “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.” He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed. “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.” “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.” “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?”

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.”

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.”

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?”

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.”

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable.

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice.

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face.

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.”

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?”

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.”

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?”

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return, “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them.

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again.

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday.

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.”

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s�� just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles.

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him.

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.”

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do.

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.”

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.”

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.”

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.”

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.”

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.”

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.”

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card.

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions.

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?”

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box.

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you.

“What can I get you?” he asks again.

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take.

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see.

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.”

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck.

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically.

“Another banger,” he exclaims.

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise.

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did.

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines.

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s.

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it.

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.”

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is.

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway.

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.”

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’”

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target.

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you.

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.”

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?” “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it.

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?”

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through.

“We have all day, right?” you smirk.

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?”

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow.

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.”

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.”

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?”

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand.

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.”

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.”

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels?

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy?

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?”

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.”

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly.

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.”

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever.

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing.

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.”

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf.

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?”

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.”

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.”

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something.

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be.

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store.

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.”

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.”

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it.

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?”

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.”

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.”

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again.

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.”

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you.

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention.

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words.

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?”

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.”

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?”

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?”

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.”

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries. “Easter candy?” he asks.

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.”

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?”

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?”

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.”

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in.

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile.

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?”

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully.

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you.

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease.

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.”

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point.

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.”

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console.

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you?

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire.

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?”

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?”

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.”

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?”

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze.

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back.

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks.

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.”

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.”

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more.

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.”

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face.

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts.

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.”

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’”

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head.

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.”

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth.

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.”

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.”

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.”

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage.

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green.

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.”

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly.

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now.

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?”

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.”

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.”

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask.

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest, “You gettin’ sleepy?”

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.”

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.”

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?”

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do.

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now?

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped.

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.”

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no.

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping.

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard.

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.”

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again.

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!”

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes.

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.”

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.”

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile.

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you.

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.”

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.”

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.”

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.”

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception.

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.”

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch.

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth. it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you.

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand.

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy. oh, so you miss me? of course i do :) i miss you, too :)

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?”

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met.

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.”

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.”

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?”

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.”

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted.

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks.

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back.

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.”

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?”

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.”

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.”

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them.

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.”

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds.

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.” “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.”

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees.

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks.

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.” “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage.

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser.

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark.

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late? grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.”

yeah, show me :)

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand.

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it.

jfc you know what you’re doing whaaaaat? what do you mean? ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean. do you not like it? i like it a little too much you wanna see it from the back?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers.

of course i do

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru. you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn? lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it.

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?”

yeah? you’d take care of it? only if you asked nicely :)

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand.

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please. what a good boy. :)

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.”

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth?

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first.

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full oh you wanna shut me up? is that it? i don’t think it takes much.

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off.

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that?

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat.

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it you sound very confident because i am is it big?

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit.

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it. i know i can take it. so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here. so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that. so you are jerking it in your bedroom? the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good.

🙈 stop yeah? i can stop. don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come? cause i do have my fingers between my thighs

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls.

does it feel good, sweetheart? it would feel better if you were doing it for me. can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…”

absolutely.

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring.

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does.

“Hey there,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan.

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again.

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh.

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm.

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.”

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax.

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.”

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead.

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you whine to him.

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”

“How?” you ask breathily.

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.”

“I’m not needy,” you protest.

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.”

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver.

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?”

“Yeah…”

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?”

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly.

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?”

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you.

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.”

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over.

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low.

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea.

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?”

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you.

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm? Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.”

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down.

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.”

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober.

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully.

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly.

“Poor thing,” he offers.

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.”

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.”

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters.

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.”

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.”

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours.

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned.

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere.

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go.

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.”

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.”

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy.

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment. “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling.

“I missed you,” he says confidently.

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group.

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug.

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over.

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose.

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.”

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind.

“Guess who it is,” she laughs.

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand.

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.”

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts.

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.”

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face.

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.”

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.”

“So you like her?” Eddie grins.

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.”

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort.

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.”

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs.

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all.

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses.

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat.

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt.

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too. He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it.

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit –

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse.

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.”

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines.

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.”

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time.

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs.

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair.

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs.

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks.

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this.

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going.

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently.

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room, “You even know how to play?”

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain.

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.”

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again.

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not. Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade.

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest.

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting.

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin.

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen.

“Do I win a prize?”

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.”

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.” He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again.

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.”

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other.

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.”

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips.

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands.

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths.

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.”

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums.

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp.

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.”

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.”

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?”

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar.

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually –

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves.

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.”

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck.

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind.

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft.

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips.

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.”

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.”

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks.

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel.

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit.

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead.

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.”

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout.

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again.

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him.

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger.

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue.

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles.

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.”

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time?

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.”

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?”

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…”

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game.

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish.

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you.

“Eddie…”

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him.

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.”

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch.

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back.

“M’gonna cum…oh shit — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers.

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead.

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate.

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?”

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.”

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?”

“Much better.”

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks.

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen.

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face.

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate.

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –”

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is.

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?”

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn.

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping.

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.”

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?”

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed.

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.”

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.”

Jingle. Click. Creak.

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.”

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen.

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.”

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second.

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.” Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.”

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him.

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit.

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?”

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much.

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x y/n

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showmella · 6 years ago

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I hope all the Monbebes cheer extra loud for MX at the Jingle Ball tonight.

#i couldn't go #so you guys gotta scream extra loud so i can hear it from across they bay.#:')#monsta x jingle ball #sf #monbebe

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wormstacheangel · 3 years ago

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Suptober Day 6: Cemetery Boys

wc: 1.3k tags: hunter!cas, human!cas, destiel au, case fic, a little grave digging and flirting never hurt anybody

This. This was the worst part of the job; Dean concludes as he shovels away another patch of dirt. He cringes when he realizes that actually the people dying are the worst part but digging up a grave is a close second.

“I am...never...playing that...stupid...fucking game. Again!”

He hated rock, paper, scissors anyways. Couldn’t they play darts or cards to settle bets? Why do they have to play such a childish game? And why does he always fucking lose?

Dean throws the dirt over his shoulder with ache arms. Sam suggested someone had to stay with the pretty girl and protect her from the ghost of some old-timey creep. So, now Sam is somewhere comforting the college cheerleader while Dean is struggling to climb out of the hole. He just needed a second—a minute.

Fuck, he needed a nap.

He was almost out when he saw someone running towards him.

“Shit!” Dean lost his footing and fell onto his back. Landing back into the grave with a loud groan.

He heard a loud chuckle before he opened his eyes and saw, “Wow. Aren’t you pretty?”

Dean saw the man roll his eyes, but all Dean could think about was how angelic the man looked with the glow of the moon behind him.

“Did I just die and gone to heaven?”

“If heaven is finishing this dig, then yes.” Dean barely heard his words cause he was putty under the voice. The deep fucking voice. “You’re Dean, right?”

Pretty boy knows my name! “Yeah.” Smooth. “Yeah, am I that famous already?”

“Your brother sent me over to check on you.” Pretty boy helped Dean out of the grave, holding his hand out and helping Dean regain his balance by holding a hand to his waist. “Says you were taking too long.”

Was this dude teasing him, or was he dead serious?

“Yeah, well, digging up a dead body isn’t as easy anymore.”

“I don’t think it was ever easy.”

Dean blinked at him, still unable to understand if the dude just had a dry humor or if he was fucking serious.

“Who the fuck even are you?” Dean finally asked, handing the guy the extra shovel before he could even answer.

He watched pretty boy take the shovel and jump into the hole with ease. Already digging when he answers in a deep groan. “I’m Castiel.”

It took a second for Dean to stop hearing the name bouncing off the walls in his brain. “Castiel?”

Cas gave him a slight nod, his lips in a tight line as he started to shovel off the dirt quickly. Dean sat down at the edge of the grave and watched him, enjoying the way his arms and back muscles stretch his shirt, but also in suspicion.

“And what the fuck are you doing here, Cas?”

“I was on my way to this hunt, actually.”

“So you’re a hunter.”

“I thought that was obvious.”

Yeah. Well. “Well, we did all the work already, so you can’t take the credit.”

“I don’t need credit. I just want to help.” Cas was already leaving a pretty good dent. “I was supposed to be here sooner, but my car broke down. Left it on the side of the road, hidden by some trees--can’t really call a mechanic when I have an arsenal in the back.”

Dean jumped in and grabbed his own shovel to help.

“Well, it must be your lucky day, Cas.” Cas looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together. “You are looking at one of thee best mechanics on this side of the country.”

“What about the other side?”

“I’m not so good over there.”

They both cracked a smile. So maybe Cas does have a dry sense of humor. And Dean...well, shit, Dean thinks he likes it.

“After we’re done here, maybe I can give you a ride back to your car? See what I can do.”

Cas was staring at him, almost as if he could see right through him, and Dean wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he sure as fuck can get addicted to being seen.

“I would appreciate that very much. Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem. Maybe that would make us even.” Dean says as his shovel hits something old. He slams the shovel down harder and cracks the wooden box. “Jackpot!”

Cas climbed out of the grave with ease and quickly turned around to help Dean out again. He wanted to show that he could get out all by himself, too, but he didn’t want to lose the opportunity to hold the damn dude’s big rough hands.

Shit. It’s been a while for him.

“Dean?” Dean noticed his gaze had fallen to the other man’s lips. It was formed into a small smile. “The salt?”

He’s a professional! He should not be letting this pretty boy interfere with the job. Since when has this been a rule? Now. He is starting now.

Dean picked up the salt, and before he could pour it out into the grave, he felt a familiar push of something hard knocking him back. He landed hard against a gravestone, his back getting the worst of it, while he heard his name being called out but everything was a little fuzzy. The figure before him, dressed in an old prison uniform, grinned down at him before he took hold of Dean’s neck. It was choking him.

“Dean!”

His vision faded as he tried to fight the ghost, but his legs just went through him. But eventually, he fell onto his knees, sucking in the air before a coughing fit started.

He felt strong arms around his shoulders, protecting him. “Come on, Dean. We gotta burn the remains.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t just thrown across the graveyard like a damn rag doll.

Dean followed Cas’s lead without complaint, noticing now that the dude had a shotgun in hand. When they reached the grave again, there stood the ghost with the most fucked up grin that made the Joker’s scars look good. It gave Dean the chills, and he started to feel his body freeze up.

“Cas.” Dean tugged at the other guy’s sleeve. His hands felt so weak, and when he looked down at himself, he noticed they were starting to become purple. “Fuck.”

This is how all his victims were found. Shit, that also meant the damn ghost found him pretty enough to kill.

Cas noticed at the same time and gave Dean’s hand a gentle squeeze as he pulled it off of him. He gave Dean an apologetic smile before turning towards the ghost. “If you want him. Take him.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Dean complained as he watched the ghost’s eyes widen as he looked Dean up and down. “If that dirty hand touches me, Cas. You’re dead.”

“Then I suggest you keep him away from you while I burn this bitch.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile. Even while being used as fucking bait, he could find time to find Cas as cute and funny.

Dean did as he was told, ignoring the way his lungs burned with every gasping breath as he tried to fucking run from the ghost. Like the first idiot who dies in a horror movie.

“You could have given me the gun!”

“Get your own!”

“Ass!”

Dean swore he heard laughter.

And just when he was cornered, with nasty fucking claws trying to bury themselves into his chest, the ghost backs away in screams. Burning up from the inside first and slowly spreading. Then, finally, the screams and remains become lost to the wind.

Dean fell back against a grave, his chest still ached along with everything in his body, when he saw Cas run towards him. He slid into his knees and carefully cradled Dean’s head between his hands, looking at him again. Looking at him like he knew him. Cared about him.

“Dean? Dean, you okay?”

Dean wanted to shove those hands away. He wouldn’t have let anyone take care of him like this, but right now, he didn’t care.

“You owe me, Cas. That grimy nasty shit touched me.”

Cas sighed in relief, knowing Dean was fine. Or at least, he was alive.

“I guess I owe you.” Cas helped Dean up. “Maybe after you fix my car?”

“Deal. But buy me breakfast first?”

“Deal.”

#suptober21 #wormstachewrites #destiel #destiel au #fic #i am so sleepy so sorry if this is bad #i hate math

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study-coffee-chicago · 4 years ago

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Seasons of PD: Season 7: Don’t You Ever Do That Again, You Hear Me? (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

A/N: There are mentions of B1ack Liv3s M4tter (apparently this ended up in that tag, so I changed the wording, so hopefully it’s not there anymore) in regards to peaceful protests in this. And there are mentions of counter-protesters causing riots. I tried my best to portray this as professionally as possible with Y/N's views, Kevin's views, and Jay's views. I did not try to offend anyone at all and I'm very sorry if I did.

Also, I don't know if one part counts as threat of sexual coercion, but I'm fairly certain that's what it's called, so trigger warning for that.

Your age: 18

Jay's age: 32

Will's age: 34

"I get that it's important to you, but I'm not letting you go!" Jay argued as you stood across from him in a screaming match.

"Why? Because You don't believe the same things as me because you haven't met a bad cop? Because you fought for this country and know people who died for it?" you yelled back.

"Yes, me being a cop and a soldier obviously has something to do with this! But I'm also trying to keep you safe! They turn into riots!"

"You do know that's not the Black Lives Matter protesters who start them, right? They're peaceful. Counter-protesting assholes come and start things to give peaceful protesters a bad image!"

"I don't want you to get hurt if something happens! Tear gas hurts, kid. I don't want you to come home with burning eyes and the possibility of going blind and tell me I'm right. I'm trying to prevent that!"

"I know you are, Jay! I just want you to let me have my own damn opinions and do what I want for once!"

"Has a cop ever hurt you in some way? Pulled you over illegally?" Jay roared.

You wanted to tell him your story about something like that that had happened five weeks ago, two weeks after the infection scare across the entire city, but you couldn't because you knew he'd do something stupid and you didn't want that. "No, but--"

His phone rang, cutting you off. "I'll be there," Jay said quickly. Then, he turned back to you. "I gotta go, caught a case. I'll see you later and we can talk about this. Calmly."

"So, you're saying there's a chance you'll let me go?"

"There's maybe a .001% chance, but sure, believe what you want."

You rolled your eyes and he left. But, as he shut and locked the apartment door, he stopped. "Love you," he whispered. Because, with what he did on the job, he knew that there was the possibility every day of him not coming home to you.

***

When you woke up, you were shocked not to see a text from Jay between 3 and 5 am saying that he wouldn't make it home tonight. He usually made it a priority when on a case to tell you that he wouldn't be coming home so that you wouldn't worry.

But, there was a voicemail from him around 11 pm last night and it was currently 9 am.

You put your phone on speaker and played it.

"Hey, Y/N, I'm sorry about arguing. If you really want to go, I think Kevin has his RDO tomorrow so I can see if he's going if you-- OW!" Then, the line just continued playing, and dragging noises were heard until there was a crash and the line went dead.

"Jay? Jay?" What the hell had happened? You quickly replayed the message to make sure it wasn't an issue with your phone, but when you heard the same exact thing again, you knew something had gone terribly wrong.

You went to dial Hailey's number to ask if she had seen Jay when there was a loud knock on your door. You quickly ran across the apartment and looked out the peephole. You saw Hailey and Adam and quickly flung open the door.

"Hey, Y/N," Adam said as he entered.

"Have you guys seen Jay?" you asked.

You saw Hailey visibly swallow. "Listen," she started, but you cut her off.

"What happened? What's going on? He usually texts me if he's going to be working until the morning and I didn't get a text and I got a voicemail and--" You took a deep, gasping breath.

"What voicemail?" Hailey asked as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I- It cut off partway through and he yelled and-- wait, he wasn't with you?"

"No," Hailey answered. "He said he had some personal stuff to take care of when we were at a scene and then took off. Then, he never came back, so we decided to check here to see if he just came home or something happened."

"He never came home." Your eyes widened, finally processing what it meant if he wasn't here and Intelligence couldn't find him. "You're telling me he's missing? Again? Oh, no. This can't be happening, not again. Not after our fight last night. I didn't even tell him what happened or that I loved him or--"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath," Hailey told you and you tried to match her breathing. "His radio might just be dead or something like that." She knew that she was lying, but she was trying to stop you from freaking out. "Can you give me your phone so Adam and I can listen to the voicemail?"

You nodded and handed Adam your phone. He pressed play and you watched as his jaw clenched as he was listening to it.

"Shit," he muttered once he was done. "We need you to come to the district with us. Just for safety."

"Can you give me a minute?" you asked. "I- I'm in my pajamas and I haven't brushed my teeth and--"

"We'll leave in half an hour, okay?" Hailey asked and you nodded. "While you're getting ready, we'll send the voicemail over to Kim and Kev. Jay's gonna be okay."

"How do you know that?" you almost whispered.

"Because Jay's one of the strongest people I know," she answered. But, in reality, she wasn't sure about that. They had no idea where he was and according to the timestamp on that voicemail, it had been a little over ten hours since he sent it. For all they knew, Jay could be out of Chicago right now. Scratch that, he could be out of Illinois.

***

"When did you get this voicemail?" Hank asked as everyone in Intelligence, minus Jay but including you, were in the bullpen and trying to trace where the call came from.

"Around 11 last night, Boss," Adam answered for you.

"Okay. So it's been almost 11 hours," Voight said.

"I need a break, excuse me," you said and quickly excused yourself to the locker room.

You made your way to the locker room and sat down and leaned against the wall. This couldn't be happening again, not after that crazy borderline sociopathic drug dealer kidnapped Jay a few years ago and Erin went in and saved him. This could not be happening again.

You thought back to the fight last night and something your mom would always say when she was in a fight with one of the boys or when you had thrown a temper tantrum and then had to go to bed.

I'll always tell you I love you because when you walk out that door or go to bed, I'll never know if that was the last chance I had to tell you I love you.

God, if you hadn't argued with Jay, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Obviously, you'd be feeling scared and upset because Jay was missing and no one had any idea where he was, but at least you wouldn't feel guilty like you currently did.

You felt guilty about starting that fight in the first place by bringing it up even though you knew what his answer was going to be. You felt guilty about yelling. But most of all, you felt guilty and you regretted not saying love you when he left...because that might've been the last time you'd have been able to tell that to your big brother who had always been there for you...even when he really didn't want to.

Jay's Nokia flip phone buzzed as he walked out of school. It was his mom.

"Hey, Mom," he greeted.

"Jay Halstead, if you answered your phone while you're driving..." she trailed off, trying to think of a good threat.

"Mom, I didn't. I was talking to some friends about going for tacos tonight, so I just walked out of school a minute ago."

"Oh," she said.

"What oh?" Jay asked. "That sounded like a bad oh, Mom."

"Well, I wish I would've known that before a professor called in sick to give an exam to his students and I agreed to pick up the extra hours."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't bring Y/N to the dentist. And I thought since you weren't busy, you could. I also may or not have promised her that she could go to Build-A-Bear after to get a new outfit for Beary because she's so scared."

"Mom," Jay groaned.

"I know, I'm sorry. But, how about this: you do this for me, and I'll extend your curfew by two hours on Friday and Saturday."

"Three," Jay countered.

"Two." Amelia Halstead stood strong.

"Three."

"Two and a half."

"Deal," Jay agreed.

"Thank you. I'll see you tonight. Love you."

"Love you, too."

***

"No," you whined as Jay told you that you had to leave after he walked you home from school later. "I don't wanna go to the dentist. They scary."

"No, they're not," Jay told you. The doctor was what was scary for him with all the needles for the shots. But, the dentist had never bothered him, even when he was a little kid it had never bothered him.

"No!"

"What if I let you bring Beary into the dentist, would you go then?" Jay practically pleaded.

"And you give me chocolate before we leave?"

"If you promise to grab your toothbrush and brush your teeth in the bathroom at the dentist, then yes, I'll give you some chocolate to eat on the way there." Jay was desperate at this point. He knew he shouldn't be giving you everything you wanted, but what were big brothers with a giant age gap for anyway if not to try and spoil his little sister?

"Okay!" You ran off to go grab Beary and your toothbrush and toothpaste while Jay made his way to a high cabinet in the kitchen and grabbed five squares of Dove milk chocolate, three for you and two for him.

In the car, Jay handed you the cholates and you started eating them while you held Beary close to you, trying to gain some comfort out of your favorite stuffed animal.

***

You gripped Jay's hand as you sat and waited for your name to be called. Beary was held in your other hand and you were squeezing him tight against your chest. You had just brushed your teeth like you promised Jay that you would, but you were still utterly terrified.

"Y/N Halstead?" a dental hygienist came out and asked.

You didn't say a word, just held Jay's hand tighter.

"That's you," Jay said gently and with a smile on his face, trying to make you feel less scared.

"No, not me," you told him as you frantically shook your head.

The dental hygienist squatted down in front of you. "Are you Y/N?" You didn't do anything, but Jay must've nodded to confirm that it was indeed you. "And who's this?" she asked as she shook Beary's paw.

"Beary," you said shyly.

"Well, I'm fairly certain that Beary will be with you the entire time. We even have little sunglasses you and he can wear when we shine the really bright light on you to protect both your little eyes. Does that sound good?"

You turned to Jay. "Me and Beary get sunglasses, Jay Jay!"

"I heard! Do you want me to come back with you?"

You thought for a second. "Please come."

Jay laughed. "Okay." He turned to the dental hygienist. "Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine."

You stood up and held Jay's hand as you walked back into the dentist to get your six-month check-up on your baby teeth.

***

"That wasn't so bad was it?" Jay asked as the two of you walked out to his car after you finished.

"No!" you said as you shook your head. "I even got a pretty bracelet with Belle on it, see?" you exclaimed as you held your hand out to him to show off your yellow bracelet with a charm that had Belle from Beauty and the Beast on it.

Jay acted all surprised and said it was pretty even though he watched as you had picked it out while he had explained to the secretary how your mom would call to schedule your next appointment in six months.

Jay opened his car and made sure you were buckled in and then got in himself and started driving.

"Do you know where we're going?"

You gasped. You had forgotten you got to go to Build-A-Bear after!

"Build-A-Bear!" you yelled. The volume of that yell would've made Jay wince had he not been driving.

"Yup, that's where we're going."

"I think I'm gonna get Beary some new pajamas," you decided.

"What color?"

You held Beary out in front of you. "What color pjs do you want, Beary?" You brought him up to your ear and nodded as he "told" you what color pajamas he wants. "He said blue!"

"Blue pajamas. I'm pretty sure we can find those."

***

Jay and you walked into Build-A-Bear Workshop at the mall and you were met with children running around. To Jay, this was the definition of hell. Except for you, he was fine with you running around, but he really didn't like all the other kids that he had to be careful not to bump into.

"C'mon, Jay Jay!" you told him as you tugged him along to the pajama section.

He allowed himself to be tugged along by you and then you held up almost every single pair of blue pajamas to Beary to see which one was his favorite. He had decided on a pair of light blue pajamas with stars all over them. There was even a cute little hat with a pom-pom on top to go with the pajamas.

Jay paid and then you left with Beary and his brand-new pajamas. You had plans to have him sleep in those pajamas tonight, too.

Unbeknownst to you, Jay hadn't even really wanted to come. The only reason he brought you was that he got his curfew extended. But to you, it was just another fun afternoon with your big brother.

You were startled out of your daydream when you felt a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

Kevin.

"It's fine. I'm fine," you said quickly.

"No, you're not. And that's okay. Hailey and Voight went to see if Jay's where his phone pinged at."

"We fought," you told him.

"You fought?" Kevin asked as he slid down the wall to sit next to you.

"It was stupid. I should've just agreed with him and maybe I wouldn't be feeling like this."

"Like what?"

"Like utter shit." You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "We were arguing about the BLM protests that were happening tonight. I wanted to go, but he wouldn't let me. The last thing I did was roll my eyes at him, Kev."

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments while Kevin figured out how to comfort you.

"Maybe talking about it will help. What'd you argue about?"

"Just that I wanted to go and he wouldn't let me because he thinks riots will break out. And you and I both know that's not the BLM protesters, that's the counter-protesters. But, he thinks I'll get hurt. I also think it's because he's a cop, so he feels like I'm protesting him, but I'm not. I'm protesting the system."

Kevin nodded. "I get it. Believe me, I do. I live it every day."

"How do you do it?" you asked. "Be an activist and a cop at the same time?"

"Just try and do the right thing with the information you have. And, explain that you're protesting the system and the bad apples, not the police force as a whole."

"I tried. But Jay doesn't think I have a right to protest because I've never had a bad experience with a cop." Which was a lie, but you weren't ready to talk about that just yet.

"Did he say that exactly?" Kevin asked.

"No, but, he asked me if a cop has ever illegally pulled me over."

Kevin nodded. "I know Jay and I know he would never say that you didn't have the right protest. He fought for that right. He mention anything else?"

"That tear gas hurts."

"I think he just wanted to keep you safe, same thing I'd do for Jordan and Vanessa."

"He sounded like he changed his mind on his voicemail, though. He thought that maybe if you were going, then he'd let me go...at least, that's what it sounded like."

Kevin nodded. "All I can say is that until we found Jay, I'm not going to one. Getting your brother is my first priority and it's the first priority of everyone in this unit."

"My first priority, too."

"Kev!" Adam yelled as he banged on the door. "You in there?"

"Yeah, bro! What's up?" Kevin asked.

"We need you to meet with someone!"

***

The hours passed and with each of them that did, you got more and more nervous for Jay's safety. You guessed that this is how he felt when you asked if you could go to the protest, knowing that he'd constantly be worrying about you until you came home safely.

"Y/N, we gotta go," Trudy said as she entered the bullpen around 9:30 pm that night.

"Why? What's going on?" you asked as you grabbed your phone and started following her.

"They found Jay."

"Is he okay?" you asked quickly.

"Y/N..."

"No! He can't be dead, Trudy! He can't!" you wailed.

"He's not. But, he has been shot."

You froze. Shot. Jay had been shot.

"He's en route to Chicago Med right now."

"Can you- can you bring me there?"

"That's where we're going right now."

***

"Will!" you yelled as you ran into the ED and saw your oldest brother.

You ran right up to him and hugged him, not caring that he almost dropped his iPad he had been using to chart.

"Whoa, Y/N." He set the iPad down. "Hey, I know. But Crockett's operating on him right now and he's one of the best surgeons in the hospital."

"I thought you were better than him. You need to do the surgery, Will. you need to save Jay!"

"Y/N, I know it sucks, but I'm family. As much as I want to operate on him, I can't legally do that."

You paused and looked up at him. His eyes were slightly red, but he hadn't been bawling the way that you had been.

"Dr. Halstead! Incoming!" Maggie yelled.

"What does she mean?" you asked, still hanging onto him. "You're still working?"

"There's been a ten-car pile-up on the highway. I have to. It's my job."

"But Jay's in surgery!" you yelled as you pulled away from him. "These people are more important to you than your own brother?"

"They aren't but--"

"But you're working anyway instead of waiting to find out what happens to him?"

"I can't do anything to help Jay right now. But I can help all these people who are pouring in."

"Dr. Halstead!" Maggie shouted again.

"I'll be up in a few hours, I promise," Will told you.

***

A few hours had passed and it was now past midnight. Jay was still in surgery. Will was sitting next to you, in a spare pair of clothes he had packed instead of his scrubs that were covered in blood, and you were leaning your head on his shoulder, close to being asleep.

That was until Crockett came out and Will jumped up, causing your head to hit the back of the chair.

"Ow," you mumbled.

"Sorry," Will apologized and then turned back to Crockett. "What's the verdict?"

"He lost a lot of blood," Crockett told the two of you.

"But he's gonna pull through, right?" Will asked what the two of you were both thinking.

"We'll be out of blood soon."

"What do you mean out of blood?" Will asked, taking a step toward the surgeon. "There's no way you can be out of blood!"

"With that pile-up, we can. I'd recommend you go and say your goodbyes and pray for a miracle."

Will put his hands on the back of his head and started pacing the room. Your breath caught in your throat. This could not be happening. Jay couldn't die, he just couldn't.

Crockett started to walk back towards the operating room.

"Wait!" you yelled. You didn't know what had taken over you, but at this moment, you'd do anything to save your brother. You rolled up your sleeve. "Take my blood."

"Y/N," was all Will could manage to get out.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but there's protocol for that. I'd love to let you do it, but--"

"Fuck protocol!" you yelled, all the anger and sadness and anxiety that had built up over the past fifteen hours exploding at this very moment. "Rush my labs. Or don't even get my labs done at all. I haven't had sex, so I don't have any STDs. I don't have any diseases or deficiencies since I moved in with Jay years ago. My blood type's O-neg, so I'm a universal donor. Take my goddamn blood, Crockett!" You didn't care that all that information was out in the open because you were barely processing what you were saying. The only thing you cared about was making sure that your brother was okay.

"Y/N," Will said as he walked up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't touch me! And you sure as hell don't want to tell me to calm down!"

"Y/N," Will started again as he took his hand off your shoulder. "What Crockett's saying is that it's not ethical for him to do this. He could get fired."

"Where's the paperwork?" you asked as you turned back to Crockett. "I'll sign whatever I have to sign to make sure you aren't liable at all, that I'm donating this of my own free will. You can even take double the amount of blood that you normally do since I'm a universal donor. Just get me the paperwork."

Crockett and Will shared a look.

"I'll go get a nurse to get you the paperwork."

"Wait, no, no, no," Will said as he walked closer to Crockett. "You can't be serious about this!"

"She said she'll sign it."

"But, I have to co-sign it since she's a minor. So, no, you are not donating blood, Y/N. You almost passed out when I drew vials of your blood years ago. You know what's gonna happen if we take two units of blood? You are gonna feel like utter shit."

"Last I checked, I'm 18, so I can sign my own paperwork! God, I'm not a fucking child anymore, Will! I can make my own decisions!" you yelled back. "And if I don't do this, Jay will die. He'll die, Will. So, I'm giving him my blood with or without your support."

***

You sat in a chair, the ones that Will had told you about years ago with the big padded bar thing that came down in front of you in case you passed out. Typically, they'd just have you lay down in a bed, but since they were short on beds and Will told them that you had a history of getting dizzy and nauseous during simple blood draws, they had decided to put you here instead.

"Last chance to back out," Will told you as the nurse tied off your arm with a blue rubber tie and started to rub your arm to get the big vein in your left forearm to show.

"Jay's dying. No way in hell am I backing out."

Will sighed. He knew you were doing the right thing, but he also knew that you were going to feel terrible after, and he hated seeing you like that. "Okay," he said. "I'll stay here until they get the needle in you and then I'll get you some juice and cookies."

"Ready?" Monique asked.

"Ready," you confirmed. You turned to Will and squeezed your eyes shut as the needle pierced your vein. You heard the sound of the machine and knew your blood was going in there, but you didn't want to look. Getting your blood drawn, you could watch. But this, this was just too much blood to see, so you looked at Will.

"Doing okay?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Yeah," you answered because that was the absolute truth: you were feeling just fine.

"Okay, I'm gonna go get you some cookies and juice. I'll get an update on Jay while I'm out there, too."

You nodded and he left the room.

This wasn't so bad.

***

Okay, so you were lying to yourself. You were currently in hell. Giving the blood hadn't been an issue, it was how you felt after you were done giving blood.

You were currently sitting in that same chair, drinking some juice that Will had brought you. He told you that there was still no update on Jay, but that they were sending the blood back to him right now. (They had rushed labs on a small vial of blood that Monique took before you started the donation. The results came back while you were giving blood, and since your blood was clean, you could give it to Jay.) But, God, but you felt absolutely awful.

"You doing okay?" Will asked.

You shook your head and then stopped because it made you dizzy and put your head in your hands. "No," you groaned.

He handed you a glass of water. "Drink a bit of this too and then I'll open your pack of cookies."

"Why do you want me to drink water and not juice?" you asked as you closed your eyes and tried to stop the spinning in your head.

"Because, you're sweating, Short Stack. Need you to stay hydrated."

You took a few sips of water and then went back to your juice. Will handed you your pack of chocolate chip cookies and you started to eat them.

"Mhm," you groaned and laid your head down on the padded bar thing in front of you that kept you from falling out of the chair. "I don't feel so good."

You felt hot and cold at the same time and the world seemed to spin every time you lifted your head up. And, those cookies did not sit well with you.

"How do you feel? What hurts?" Will asked, jumping into doctor mode since Monique wasn't around. Will assured her that he could look after you while you recovered from your blood being donated at twice the normal amount.

"I just feel like shit," you told him, not picking up your head.

"You gotta give me some symptoms. Give me some symptoms and then I can help."

"Mhm, fine." You looked up at him and blinked slowly. "I feel hot and cold and sweaty. And I feel dizzy and nauseous."

"Okay. That's either a vasovagal reaction or from your blood pressure being low or from your heart rate being slowed down."

"What's that reaction thingy?"

"You don't like blood in general, so a nervous system response can happen, which could explain your reactions. But, your BP could also be low, which could explain all this too. And, it's one in the morning and you haven't slept yet, so tiredness could also be a factor."

"Great," you said sarcastically as you remembered the last time your blood pressure was low.

You had taken some of Jay's medication that he had to ward off his PTSD-induced nightmares after you were involved in a shooting at a house party. The one time you took them without sleeping directly after, you felt almost exactly like this...except without the sweatiness. You just mostly felt dizzy. You had called Will, he came over, and then you ended passing out and he had to get you to Med. Then you were admitted and they got your pressure back up. You were also prescribed sleeping pills which had helped immensely.

Will grabbed a blood pressure cuff from a drawer. "Arm," he told you. You held out your arm and he wrapped the cuff around it and pumped the end of it.

You waited as he looked at the gauge on the blood pressure cuff. Will said one number over another number, which meant nothing to you, but must've meant something to him. You raised your eyebrows, hoping he was going to tell you what those numbers meant in non-medical English terms.

"BP's low, which explains most of the symptoms," he told you.

You took another bite of your cookie and washed it down with some juice, but then immediately after started dry heaving.

Will rushed around and then thrust a pink basin under your mouth.

You took a deep breath after you finally stopped dry heaving about thirty seconds later.

"Better?" Will asked. You shook your head. "I'm going to get you an IV of anti-nausea medication."

You were going to argue with him about how he wasn't working, so he probably couldn't get you that. And, you were fairly certain he couldn't prescribe things to family. But, you felt terrible, so you really don't care if Will was being reckless and borderline unethical/illegal right now.

You nodded and then laid your head back down.

When Will came back, he thought you were asleep, but when you heard footsteps, you looked up.

"Alright," he began as he assembled the IV. "Last poke of the day, I promise."

"After this can I take a nap in the on-call room?" you asked as you held your arm out to him once again.

"You know I can't let you do that." Will tied a blue band around your arm and started rubbing it to get a vein in the inside of your elbow. Then, he noticed your pale and sweaty face. "Fine. Hopefully, Goodwin won't fire me after this. But I have a good reason. Turn so you don't see the needle."

You did and closed your eyes. You felt the poke and squeezed your eyes shut, but then it subsided and you felt that weird feeling of the medicine going straight into your veins. God, you hoped this worked.

You hoped Jay would survive because you didn't just go through all that for nothing.

***

You slowly opened your eyes as you felt someone shaking your shoulder. "No," you groaned as you turned to face the other side of the bed.

But then you remembered where you were: the doctors on-call room because Jay had been shot. Maybe it was Will waking you up to tell you--

"Short Stack, wake up. Jay's awake."

That got you wide awake.

You snapped your eyes open, rolled over, and jumped out of bed.

"I take it you're feeling better?" Will asked.

"Sleep helps. Let's go!"

Will quickly led you out of the room and through some hallways and up a few flights of stairs to Jay's recovery room.

He was currently talking to Hailey.

"Jay!" you exclaimed as you burst into the room to see him with a sling and see Hailey helping him with his jacket.

"Hey, Short Stack," he greeted and then turned his attention back to Hailey. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Uh, just that I'm glad you're back," she told him. "I'll give you some time with your siblings." She turned her attention to Will. "Oh, and the things you told me to tell Kim to get are in that corner." She pointed to the left front corner of the room. "Bye, guys." She waved and then left.

You gave Jay a huge hug and tried to avoid his arm that was in a sling. "Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" you told him seriously and then looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

Jay chuckled. "I'll try not to."

"You better do more than try." You went back to leaning your head against his chest as tears soaked his t-shirt.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," he soothed. "I'm okay. I'm fine, Y/N."

"I was so scared. The last thing we would've done was argue. I'm so sorry. I should never have asked to go to those protests. I know you were just trying to protect me--"

"Hey, it's okay for you to have your own opinions and views. It's just gonna take me a while to get used to you being an adult now and not that little sister who would always hold my hand and beg to go to Build-A-Bear."

"Speaking of Build-A-Bear," Will started and then walked over to the corner of the room and picked up two boxes. They were white boxes with dark blue designs on them. You knew those boxes: they were what the workers put new bears in when a kid came and bought one. You let go of Jay. Will peeked into one of the holes. "This one's for you." He handed Jay a box. "And this one's for you." He handed you the other box.

"You got us Build-A-Bears?" you asked as you raised an eyebrow.

"Just open the boxes."

You did and laughed when you saw Beary in the box, dressed in a hospital gown and white little bunny slippers. Your brothers were not kidding when they said they'd get one for you.

Jay laughed as he opened his. His Build-A-Bear was a light blue color and it also had on a hospital gown as well as a sling on one arm. The bear also had on a policeman cap. "Oh, man," Jay said as he continued laughing.

"Press the right paw," Will told him and he did, causing Ruzek's voice to float through the room.

Stop getting kidnapped. Glad you're okay, though.

You started laughing hysterically at this point.

"One more thing," Will said as he walked over to the counter and pulled out a marker and two hospital bracelets. On one he wrote Beary Halstead. "Jay, what are you naming your bear?" Will asked.

"I gotta name it?"

"Um, it's not an it. It's a he or a she...could be a they, too," you said.

"Fine. I gotta name him?"

"Yes," Will told him.

Jay groaned. "Fine. Blue."

"Boo! That's boring," you said.

He groaned again. "Detective Blue. There. Better?"

"Better," you confirmed.

Will wrote Det. Blue Halstead on the other hospital band. Then, he handed Beary's to you and Detective Blue's to Jay.

"I cannot believe you," Jay said.

"I can," Will laughed. "Now put it on him. Just like Y/N's doing with Beary."

Jay reluctantly put it on Detective Blue's arm. But then he realized something. "Wait, why does Beary have a hospital gown if Y/N wasn't in the hospital?"

"Yeah, about that..." you trailed off.

Jay cocked his head to the side. "What did you do this time?"

"Other than save your life, I got nauseous and Will had to give me anti-nausea medication," you explained.

"Wait, back up. You saved my life? How?" Jay asked as he looked between you and Will.

"She essentially cussed at Crockett until she got what she wanted," Will said nonchalantly.

"Which was...?" Jay pried.

"Giving you blood because the hospital was out because of a car accident. If she wouldn't have given you blood..." Will trailed off, not wanting to say the words.

"I'd be dead," Jay practically whispered.

"Yeah," Will confirmed, his voice at about the same volume as Jay's.

Jay felt himself getting choked up as he pulled you in for another hug. "Thank you."

"I know you'd do the same for me."

"In a heartbeat, Short Stack. In a heartbeat."

You stayed like that until Will went ahead and broke the comfortable silence that had fallen over the three of you.

"I hate to break this up, but there's something else I need to tell you guys," Will said.

You and Jay both turned to him and you let yourself out of Jay's embrace. "Which is?" you asked.

"Voight gave Jay two weeks furlough to recover and I talked Goodwin into giving me two weeks vacation--"

"How in the hell did you do that?" Jay asked.

"Let's just say I'm going to be working Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day. But that's beside the point. We have two weeks of vacation time."

"You do know I work right?" you asked.

"At a coffee shop, not at a big kid job," Will said. "And, I had Kim and Adam stop in there on their way to get the bears. They explained the situation and your work gave you two weeks off. Adam said he may have had to flash his badge, but that's beside the point."

"And you took vacation because...?" you asked.

"We need to make sure Jay relaxes and there's so many protests-turned-riots happening right now that we should probably get out of here."

"You do know it's not the peaceful protesters starting those, right? It's counter-protesters and other people who are racist bigots and people who decided they have no other choice but to be violent," you said, making your views known once again.

"I'm very much aware, Y/N. But, no matter who started it, people were running from tear gas and burning buildings last night."

"Alright, back on topic," Jay started, not wanting to have another argument like he had two days ago with you. "Where are we going?"

"I figured Wisconsin would be a good choice."

***

"It's my turn to pick the music," you whined as Will looked for another song on your long drive to Wisconsin.

"I'm the oldest, so I get control of it," Will argued.

"No, you've controlled it for the last three hours. I've had to listen to nineties hip-hop for that long. My eardrums are gonna bleed. Please make him give the aux, Jay."

"Dude, just give her the aux, and then she'll be quiet. Remember, she likes early 2000s pop-punk and 2000s stuff in general. We'll probably know most of it."

Will reluctantly handed you the aux. "Thank you. And, just to remind you two, I'm a big fan of Taylor Swift's first few albums and 5 Seconds of Summer."

You clicked play on Take What You Want by One OK Rock featuring 5 Seconds of Summer. You queued up some more songs by 5 Seconds of Summer and two by Taylor Swift, just to mess with your brothers, and then you added songs they would know like All the Small Things by Blink-182, Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings, Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low, and Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard.

By the time Dear Maria, Count Me In started playing, all three of you were jamming out, which caused Jay to forget to put his blinker on when he changed lanes...and there was a cop right there in the emergency turnaround.

Jay heard and saw the sirens behind him and slowed down. He knew the drill from pulling people over on his days on patrol. Now that he was in Intelligence, he practically just ripped the criminals out of their cars and handcuffed them against the side of their (usually stolen) car.

He got out his license and registration, along with his badge because he did have his service weapon with him. He'd be damned not bringing it with him in this day and age...and sometimes there were coyotes and he and Will didn't know if the old hunting rifle at the cabin that your grandpa used to use even had ammunition in and if there was even any ammunition at the cabin.

Jay rolled down his window as the officer walked up to him.

Your hands started to sweat and your heart started to race as you remembered your last encounter with an officer that you didn't know.

You were driving home from the library late at night after studying for a biology exam. And no, the library wasn't an excuse for going out and partying. You genuinely had gone to the library and had had a great and very focused study session for a few hours.

All of a sudden, you saw flashing lights and heard sirens. You turned down your music. You looked in your rear-view mirror and saw that the cop was right on your tail. He turned off his sirens and then turned them on and off quickly.

You were the one getting pulled over.

You pulled off to the side of the road and then rolled down your window.

"License and registration," the officer told you. He looked young, maybe a rookie.

"What's the problem officer?" you asked. Jay always told you that you had a right to know why you had been pulled over.

"You were going three miles over the speed limit, did you know that?"

"I don't recall how fast I was driving." Jay always told you never to admit to speeding because then you could fight the ticket if you ended up getting one.

"License and registration, please," he repeated.

"Reaching into my glove compartment and moving some CDs to get my registration," you narrated and then handed the registration to the officer. "Reaching over to my passenger seat to grab my purse which has my license in it...unzipping my purse...reaching in for my license." You handed him your license.

He ran your information and then came back to the window. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I have to give you a ticket."

You furrowed your eyebrows. For three miles over the speed limit? No fucking way was this happening.

"Uh," was all you could say.

"But, there is something you can do to get out of this ticket. You help me out, I help you out."

"I- I don't understand," you stuttered.

He looked down and you followed where he was looking and cupping himself with the hand that wasn't holding your license and registration.

"I- I..."

"Or I can just up this speeding ticket to going twenty miles over it. Say there was an open container in the car, too," he said.

You had no idea what to say. You couldn't risk getting your insurance upped and getting a minor in possession charge. You'd never be allowed to drive again!

But, there's no way you'd do this. You couldn't. But he was so much bigger than you that he could hold you down with one hand tied behind his back.

He placed his hand on the door handle. "You have three seconds to make your decision. One...Two..."

"My brother's Jay Halstead! Badge number 51163! His Sergeant's Hank Voight!" Your voice trembled as you yelled that and you were close to tears.

He looked back down at your license. It did say Y/N Halstead on it. He handed you back your license and registration. "Have a nice night."

Then, he walked back to his patrol car, got in, turned off the sirens, and drove off. You were so scared that you didn't even look to see what his last name or badge number was.

Once you had stayed pulled over for a good couple of minutes to make sure that the cop was nowhere in sight, you started driving again. You stopped at a drive-thru and got yourself a chocolate flurry with Oreos. Then, you sat in the parking lot with your hands still shaking and your heart still racing as you ate and started to cry. You cried for almost half an hour and waited there for another fifteen minutes so your eyes wouldn't be as puffy when you got home because you didn't want Jay asking questions.

"Y/N, you good?" Jay asked, taking you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah," you said quickly...almost too quickly. "Why?"

"Will just asked if you wanted to go back because we missed a song and you didn't answer."

"Yeah, I can do that." You quickly went back to the previous song and tried to sing with as much happiness as you did previously. But, you didn't get the image of that night or the feeling of dread out of your stomach for another hour.

***

You woke up the next morning very well-rested. The boys had taken the loft and the two twin beds that were up there and you got to take your mom and dad's old room because you were the only girl, so they said it was only fair that you got the bedroom.

You heard the dripping of water and got out of bed and then padded down the hall and to the kitchen. Jay was standing there in pajama pants and a t-shirt. (Thank God he wasn't shirtless for once in the morning. Your brothers really needed to learn how to put shirts on when they walked out of their rooms in the morning...and maybe by you telling them to put a shirt on all the time, you training them had finally paid off.) He drummed his fingers on the counter while he waited for the coffee to be done.

"Morning," you said.

He turned around. "Good morning. Shocked you're awake. It's only 8 am."

"And I'm shocked you haven't been up for two hours," you retorted.

"Oh, I've been up for an hour, just been reading upstairs. Will's not up yet, though."

"He always sleeps late when he doesn't have to work though, doesn't he?"

"Pretty much. We've made breakfast plans before and he's missed them because he was sleeping."

The timer went off on the coffee pot, alerting you that it was finished. Jay started to pour his in a tumbler. He held out a tumbler to you. You raised an eyebrow, silently wondering why he wasn't pouring it into a mug.

"I was gonna go for a morning canoe ride. You can come along if you want. Wouldn't want hot coffee spilling all over us," he told you.

"Did you bring creamer?" you asked.

"Irish cream creamer, just for you."

You reached into the fridge and grabbed the creamer.

"So, canoe ride?" Jay asked.

"Sure."

He poured coffee into a tumbler for you and then slid it to you to put your desired amount of creamer in.

***

Twenty minutes later, you were starting out in the canoe. You told Jay there was no way in hell that you'd be doing the rowing. He told you that he could only row with one arm because of his sling, so you'd have to do the other side. Skeptically, you started rowing. Jay told you that you'd be fine, just to follow his instructions.

Fifteen minutes later, when you were out in the middle of the lake, facing the forests of Wisconsin, he stopped.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked.

He picked up his tumbler of coffee off the floor of the canoe. "We need to talk."

"About what?" you asked as you picked up yours as well and held it with both hands.

"About your reaction last night when I got pulled over. You freaked. I need to know why."

"I- I didn't freak. I was just tired," you lied.

"You had quite the amount of energy right before that," he quipped.

"It's nothing."

"Y/N, I'm not letting this go. Is it because of the protests and riots and because of all the media coverage and those few bad apple cops and, I guess the system, that you're seeing that's making you nervous?"

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"You're not going to let this go are you?" you asked.

"I will stay in this canoe in the middle of the lake until you tell me what is going on, Y/N Halstead."

"You wouldn't."

Jay shrugged with the arm that wasn't currently in a sling. "Try me."

You sighed. "Just don't be mad that I didn't tell you sooner, okay?"

"I won't. You have my word on that."

"So, a little over a month ago I was driving home from the library..."

***

When you finished, you were in tears. "Did you get a last name? Badge number?" Jay asked as he rubbed circles on your back with his good hand.

You sniffled. "N- No. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all."

"If I wouldn't have said- said your name...He had his hand on my door handle! And he was so much bigger than me. I'm sorry!"

You turned and buried your face in his chest. "Y/N, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I should've told you right away, though! But you just had that really rough case and I didn't want to put too much on your shoulders and--"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath. You need to breathe. This was not your fault. None of it was."

You calmed your breathing and just sat there, silent tears streaming down your face.

"That's why I wanted to go to the protests," you said after a few minutes. "Because I've actually had a bad experience with a cop."

"Which should've never happened in the first place."

"I was so scared," you whispered.

Jay just hugged you tighter as he thought about how strong his little sister was. You had given blood to save his life even though you knew you'd feel terrible after and you hadn't told him about this horrible cop--which he would kick this cop's ass the minute the got back to Chicago--because you didn't want him to have too much on his plate after that terrible case where he put an innocent man in jail and got him killed...which was the main reason he had been shot.

"When we get back to the cabin, I'll try and call Voight. I don't know if I'll have service, though."

"Why?" you asked.

"I'm gonna have him look up who was on their beat near you that night so he can go interrogate people on my behalf. Probably best he does it and not me." Because Jay knew that the minute he saw that cop, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.

You nodded.

"Hey, cheer up, kid. We're here for two weeks, away from everything. Away from the city and everything that goes on there. And I can promise you that that cop will get what's coming to him, whether that be losing his job or going to jail or prison."

"Do I have to tell Will? Or can you tell him? I really don't want to talk about this again."

"I can do it," Jay answered. "Speaking of Will, if he's not up when we get back, what do we say we wake him up with some cold lake water?"

"Like dump it on him?" you asked as you widened your eyes. Jay nodded. "No, that's mean. Then he'll have to wait for his sheets to dry out and they'll smell the entire time."

"We have spare sheets and blankets in the closet."

"Fine, let's do it. But just so you know, I'm telling him that it was your idea and I also have a lock on my bedroom door here, which will make it harder for him to sneak in and dump water on me."

"I will be sleeping in your room tonight," Jay joked.

"Nope. It was your idea, so you're gonna have to live with Will's payback."

Those two weeks were filled with laughter, pranks, board games, corn hole, swimming, fishing (well, you read either in the canoe or on the dock while the boys fished), and just spending time with each other. You were glad that Will had the bright idea to take two weeks up here...even though he got drenched in cold lake water the first morning by you and Jay.

A/N: I got a request from @ La_lectrice_33 on wattpad for Y/N going to the dentist, so I hope you liked that little scene! I also got a request from an anon on here about Jay and Will's reactions to her growing up, so I put that in here, too. Thank you for over 23k reads! I won't be posting until this Sunday (August 1) when I start posting AUs for AU-gust. Please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love seeing those like/reblog notifications pop up and love reading your comments and asks! As always, if you would like to be added to my tag list, just tell me and I’ll add you! Finally, like my imagines? Buy me a coffee (only $1 through Paypal and other currencies can be used) here: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/Kayela

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

Text

Side Effects May Include...

Bokuto x reader

Author’s Note : I feel like this is long overdue

Warnings: medication [not specified], full nelson, f. masturbation, sex toys [vibrators], choking, doggy style, mating press, this is mostly smut, Princess as a pet name, creampie(s)

“Here is your prescription,” the pharmacist says. You thank her and take the bag. Taking out the piece of paper, you look over the side effects.

“May include high libido? Sure,” you laugh, though there’s no joy behind it. Your last prescription had the same side effects listed, but it lowered the libido. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but after entering a relationship with Bokuto, you found it to be bothersome. Bokuto was always bouncing off the walls with boundless energy and after the first time, he was obsessed. If he could, he’d have it every night.

You felt bad, thinking back on it. When he had asked, you always consented but you were tired after one round and found that it wasn’t as pleasureful as it could be. Bokuto noticed, of course, so you confessed about your.. predicament. He took it in stride, understanding that he couldn’t get his dick wet every night, but you let him hit it at least once a week. Yet, you would know when he went to the bathroom for 15 minutes, it was because he needed to rub one out. It made you feel like a bad girlfriend, unable to properly take care of him.

The new prescription didn’t have anything new, you felt like. Your libido was still the same, you weren’t eating more or less, and you didn’t feel the need to sleep all day from a headache. Bokuto understood, his smile as bright as it was when you guys got together when he sees you. However, he mentioned he had an away game over dinner that evening.

“It’s only down to Miyagi, so it’sa 2 day trip. I’ll leave early tomorrow mornin’ and be back late Saturday night,” he says around a mouthful of food. You laugh at that, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

“Alright, I’ll be here. I’ll get groceries Saturday afternoon, then,”

“Why’re ya laughin’?” He really doesn’t understand, which just makes you laugh harder.

“Swallow your food, you heathen! You look like a chipmunk,” you puff out your cheeks like his which has him giggling, having to turn away from you to swallow. Once he has loudly gulped down his food, he fully laughs and joins in with your laughter. A classic dinner.

The next day goes by without any issues, your body feeling a bit more active than when you were on your old prescription. Jogging around the neighborhood and deciding to exercise the extra energy off, you wonder if you’ll be more active to sleep with Bokuto. The next day, Saturday, however, you find yourself more than just a bit active.

The grocery run is in the morning and includes some extra things that weren’t on the list. After getting home and putting away the groceries, you rip into the packaging of the vibrator and batteries you bought. The extra vibrator you bought is off to the side, most likely to be used at a later date. You do push in the batteries, however, in case the other one’s batteries die. Before you head to the bedroom, you do reach out to grab the extra vibrator.

It’s late evening or early morning, you can’t tell. You’re exhausted from the marathon you’ve given your poor clit and underwear, two pairs stiff from the liquid they’ve absorbed. With the fan on, you lay on your bed with only Bokuto’s shirt to give you some decency, but even then it is too hot. Everything is too hot right now, you feel like, as your hand slides down your sides until it’s diving between your thighs and teasing your folds. You avoid your clit, feeling the desire to rub and tease it again, but you don’t. With the state you’re in, you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk anytime soon.

Good thing you don’t have to worry.

The door opening is almost heavenly to you, knowing Bokuto’s home. The loud thud from his bag hitting the floor tells you he’s in a bad mood, most likely from a lost. He’s quiet the rest of the way, probably hoping to not disturb you. With you wide awake, you decide to give him something to walk into. Hand still between your legs, you pump them into you as soft moans leave your lips.

“He-llo?” His voice pitches a bit as he enters the room. Frozen in place, there he stands. Turning your head slightly towards him, you give off a lazy smile.

“I need your help, big boy,” you practically moan, feeling your hands squelching with the accumulated slick. He doesn’t hesitate, his frown and confusion turning to a smile and desire. He’s already shrugging off his clothes as he moves closer to the bed. Once there, he replaces your fingers with his own, rough and thick enough to reach inside where your fingers couldn’t. Your hand drops, the ache in your arm from the constant movement getting to you, but that’s not the focus. With a nearly three pumps of his fingers, you’re gushing and moaning as juices drip out of you, down his hand and his thick arm. The same hand that reaches up and pushes past your lips so you can taste yourself, his own body moving up as his cock bobs against your thigh.

“So needy and I’ve only been gone for two days,” he practically coos into your ear, one hand lining himself up to push into you. Words don’t come as easily now, your mind fuzzy from the orgasm that begins the long marathon of what’s coming. “All ready and prepped for me, too. Gonna let me relieve some stress, baby?”

“Please,” your whine of pleasure has him pushing into your depths, your cunt eagerly sucking him in. Mewls come from your lips as your back arches, ass pushing back into his hips to get more. “More, please,”

“You can’t take anymore,” he grunts, large arms coming to wind around your throat. The simple action prevents you from moving any farther down. “Your tiny cunt can’t take it, princess,”

“I can! I can!” broken moans and useless mewls, that’s all you hear from your lips. He doesn’t give you a chance to speak anymore, shoving his entire length into you and splitting you open, your body bouncing forward and into the pillows. The simple action has his tip bumping your cervix, making you feel as if he actually will split you in two as he fucks into your heat. Squelching and squishing noises come your cunt with each pump of his cock into you as he disappears inside, only to come back out. The wet slapping of his balls against your clit has your walls clamping down around him, sucking him in even more as he groans and releases your neck so your body is completely limp.

A murmur of something comes from him, but you don’t understand it. When his arms hook under yours and his fingers lace together behind your head, you let out a scream as he continues to jackhammer into you. “God, I’ve missed this,” he momentarily chuckles, his forehead resting against your back, sweat soaking through the fabric as he fucks you. His constant hip thrusting must be drawing him to a close, you wonder, but he continues to drive himself into you. A low moan comes from him as his hips still, against your ass as his own orgasm splashes against your walls, filling you up.

It’s not enough.

You’re still whining, backing your ass up for more as he goes to pull out. He does pull out, but he then flips you over to see the state of your face. Snot is smeared across your face and tears stain your cheeks with drool spilling from your mouth, but he thinks you’re more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen. He’s glad he came home to this.

Legs still spread wide open, your fingers dive between your legs to tease and rub yourself, collecting the sticky cum he just spilt into you. A growl comes from deep in his chest as he watches, eyes lidded as he realizes you’re still ready to go. You’re still unsatisfied, which is unusual for you, but he isn’t going to complain. The soft mewls from you and then loud moans as he sinks himself back into you. There’s hardly any resistance as he does, groaning as he throws his head back at the sensation. Moving his body forward, he picks up your legs and hooks them over his shoulders, keeping his arms on either side of you to keep your legs up.

With the change in position, he can somehow reach even deeper into you as he thrusts. Tip bumping against your cervix and every single push and pull out of you has your cunt spasming around him, sucking him in and gushing out more milky fluid. Bubbles form at the base of his cock, wetting the slick patch of hair around there. His lips find yours, stifling your moans as he pistons into you, headboard slamming against the wall as he uses every bit of energy to fuck you into a stupor. Even now, the only noises you can make are muffled mewls, startled gasps, and broken moans. Each noise gives him the courage to keep going, even as he feels his next orgasm coming, he forces it down until your squirting and screaming all over his cock.

It isn’t too long until you’re doing exactly that, nails digging into the back of his neck and his shoulder as you cry out, ending your orgasm with a mewling moan. When your walls finish fluttering around him, his cock sore from the sensations, then does he finally release inside you. Keeping you pinned beneath him, he moans as he hangs his head low, rutting against you as he pumps more and more of his cum into you.

Heavy breathing fills in the silence where there was the sounds of sex, both of you coming down from your high. He still has more energy in him, but he’s sure you’re tired and want to sleep. Removing his face from your neck, he looks down at you to see the aftermath of his merciless fucking. A small chuckle leaves him as he attempts to wipe the tears still spilling from your eyes away. His hips move, pulling himself from you, but you whine at the loss of contact.

“I gotta clean you up, you’re a mess,”

“I’m not.. I wan’ ag’in,” you manage to get out, legs locking him closer to you as your hands run down his chest. He flushed at that, as if he didn’t just finish railing you.

“Oh, you’re still wanting, uh, more? What happened?” He asks, but you’re too out of it to properly respond, pointing a finger at the pill bottle beside the bed. He seems to understand, but you don’t actually know. He does, however, push his thick cock back into you. “Alright, then we’ll go again. Wanna make you even more of a mess,”

You can’t say anything against that, tears already starting again as your mouth hangs open in a wanton moan. He has the decency to kiss you, stifling your moans as he rocks himself into you once more.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #BB.Kinky #Mr. Kōtarō #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #Bokuto x you #tw.choking #cw.mating press #cw.full nelson #Bokuto.Spice #tw.medicine #tw.prescription

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theglitterypages · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Secret Life of Levi Ackerman Part 2

Read Part 1 here👇🏻👇🏻

Pairings: Levi x fem! Reader

Summary: Levi revealed that he has a wife and they took his squad in his home so they could rest but as they prepared themselves to leave there's a news...is it a good one or a bad one?

Warning: A little bit of 18+

Word Count: 1000+

A/N: There will be errors ahead so bear with me guys, I will edit it soon once I have the time.

Ps: Photo not mine. Original Link for the photo👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

°°°°°°°°

It's already night and Levi already told the teens to sleep on the extra rooms, fortunately there are two extra rooms, the girls slept together and the boys are in one room. When Levi entered the room he immediately locked it, you were sat on the bed while a book is in your hands, you looked up at him with a small smile before closing the book and placing it on the table nearby.

“Let's sleep, love.” you whispered at him as you pat your lap, Levi immediately knew what to do then, he rested his head on your lap while you comb his hair gently using your fingers. “I miss you.” he whispered with his eyes closed, he stopped your hand from combing his hair, he kissed the back of it before he opened his eyes. “I love you, sorry if this marriage seems unfair to you.” he caressed your knuckles gently, his eyes still fixated on yours.

Levi can be an insecure man, and at this moment he's insecure that he couldn't stay with his wife but he knew he has duties that's why he's also doing his best to fight and eliminate the titans because once this war is finished he can finally rest with you, be a man who stays beside his wife.

“Levi can you please stop saying sorry? I wanted this marriage because I love you.”

“I love you more.”

He sat up and pressed his forehead on yours as he cupped your face, “No matter where I go, I would always come back to you. You will always be my home and my rest.” you melted in his touch, your eyes are closed as you feel his breath fanning on your face.

And in one swift movement his lips crashed against yours, it was a gentle kiss, Levi's arm went around you as he leaned you into the pillows, gently laying you down as he settled himself on top of you.

You moaned softly and he smiled against your lips, when it was time to pull away to breathe, he was smirking down at you. “You would have to stay quiet my love, we can't let the kids head what's going on.” he took off his clothes before he started removing yours.

And when he was done he attacked your lips once more as his hands traveled all over your body.

Two became one again on that night.

••••••

“Thank you for letting us stay, I just want to tell you that we loved your food.” Hanji complimented as she pulled you into a hug, “We really want to spend more time in here but we have to go, take care.” she whispered before pulling away from you, “Thanks Hanji, please watch Levi for me too. Make sure that there are no girls around.” you joked and Hanji laughed as she clutched onto her stomach.

“Don't worry, girls are too scared of him to flirt with him and it's obvious that he's so in love with you, no need to panic Mrs. Ackerman.” she smirked.

Your eyes settled then at the teens smiling at you, “Please come back here too if you guys have free time. I'd love to cook for you guys especially you, Armin.” Armin's eyes shot up and he blushed immediately, you don't have any idea why you're fond of the teen that fast but maybe it is because he looks like a baby, Levi suddenly cleared his throat as he snaked his arms around your waist. “You've been silently screaming my names last night and here you are acting all lovely in front of the kids, damn...I love you.” he whispered as he pressed a kiss on your temple.

“Thank you Miss YN.” the teens said in unison.

You faced Levi and combed his hair using your fingers, “No matter what happens, come home to me...alright?” He smiled and nodded as he held your hand tightly, “I would always come home, I promise.” that was all that you need to hear, you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek, wanting to keep it innocent in front of the kids.

“We'll be waiting for you. Take care, my love.”

Levi immediately frowned, confusion was evident in his face as he heard you, “We? W-what do you...what do you mean?” he whispered underneath his breath as he held your hand tighter, you looked down at your hands with a smile, you caress his rough hand before looking up back at him.

“I'm pregnant.”

It was loud enough for everyone to hear and Jean, Connie, Eren, Mikasa and Armin was in complete awe when Levi froze in his position before his knees slowly gave up, it was a good thing that you were holding Levi's hands or else it would've been a bad fall.

“I—I don't...damn y-you're pregnant? I—I will be a father...wait..wait..love is this...is this a joke?”

You laughed out loud and cupped his face before leaning in to kiss him on his lips quickly, “I'm pregnant and yes, you're a father now, Captain Levi.” Levi's heart rate sped up as realization hits him, he chuckled to himself before standing up, he wrapped his arms arouns you and lifted you off the ground.

“Thank you, you don't know what I'm feeling right now. I love you so much.”

You tapped his shoulder as you giggled, “Lev, there are kids and you guys should go.” Levi put you down and he gently kissed your forehead, he couldn't find the words to say how thankful he is right now, he's happy, actually, saying that he's happy is an understatement, before he met you he never thought that he could be a father but now, what seems impossible to him became possible because of you.

“I can't leave my pregnant wife alone.” he whispered.

“I'm sorry to tell you this but your wife is a skilled fighter too and I can handle myself Lev, these kids need you. You can come home this weekend, our baby and I can wait. But now, you gotta go. This is why I didn't tell you last night, I knew you so damn well that I could predict what's going on in that head.” Levi looked down before flicking his eyes towards the squad. Hanji just gave him a thumbs up, telling him that she's ready to accept whatever his decision would be.

And when his gaze landed back at you he smiled, “I will be home, I promise.” he knelt down and kissed your tummy before whispering, “Unborn brat, don't give your mother a hard time. I will be home by the weekend so wait patiently and don't stress my dear wife.” You giggled as you ran your hand through his hair.

“Lev, you gotta go.”

“Fine...I'll talk to Erwin and asked him if I can have more time to stay here.”

“No, it's fine. Save those day offs once my due is near that is when I would need you most but for now...you can go.” you kissed him again before hugging him tight, “When things get hard just think of me, I would always have your back, my love.” Levi wrapped his arms around you as he sighed in contentment, this is peace for him, having you in his arms is his peace.

A small smile made its way across Mikasa's lips as she stared at you and Levi, you two seemed to be an interesting pair, one is impatient while the other one is too serious but despite of all those obvious differences you and Levi looks so in love, she would want to find someone who can be with her like this.

Hanji smiled at the sight, this is a side of Levi that she never expected to witness yet it's refreshing to see, this scenario is breathe of fresh air and seeing you and Levi smile is somehow comforting because she can see that amidst of the war there's hope coming.

“I love you, wait for me.”

“I will, take care my love.”

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sorcererinthestars · 4 years ago

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You’ve Got a Fast Car...

I’m back, bitches~~ But seriously, felt great to write again for the @rtwritingcommunity‘s secret sunshine event! I will tag my recipient if/when I get their a-ok!

Summary: (FAHC) Michael doesn't expect a man to throw himself in front of his car and beg him to stop. This is Los Santos. Picking up hitchhikers is generally frowned upon. But this man has a pretty face and hell - he's got a fast car. What's he got to lose?

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32969470

Michael knew something was seriously wrong when a man throws himself out in front of his car.

Now, his car was nothing nice, but he still doesn't want to spend the next few hours getting some fucking asshole's blood off of his front bumper. So naturally he slams on the brakes as the man - a skinny, dirty thing with wild hair - does a legitimate fucking slide across the hood of his shit Honda Civic and nearly collapses on the other side. "Oi!"

"Get out of the damn road, idiot!" Michael yells out the window in a reply, flicking him off to boot. It was late, almost 2am at this point, and he really had anything better to do than scream at some (probably high) dickbag who decided to do calisthenics in the goddamn street. But the man doesn't run away ashamed, as Michael had expected. Instead, he frantically pokes at his phone - still in the middle of the street - and Michael sits there, a bit flabbergasted.

He doesn't move.

He still doesn't move when Michael lays his entire weight on the horn, sending a blast of sound into the Los Santos night. It's not as loud or annoying as he may have wanted - LS is always loud as fuck on a Saturday evening - but it does have the intended effect of nearly making the idiot in front of his car in the middle of the street jump half out of his skin.

"SHHH!" the man gasps, comically putting his finger over his lip like he was in a cartoon and making an over-exaggerated shushing motion. Michael has to blink. He's shushing him? While standing in front of his car? Before he can say anything or shake off the disbelief that this shit had to happen to him tonight - he had to get home and clean off before his next shift at the pizza place he had reluctantly taken a job at - the man (still crazy-eyed and wild-haired) runs up to his window. At this moment, Michael really wishes he had invested in a knife, or a Tazer, or something. People had warned him about LS, but he didn't listen. He should probably learn to do that, someday.

"Listen, man," the guy says (see?) and leans forward, a massive grin on his face. He has some pretty high cheekbones. Michael blinks. "Dude, can you please just move or I'm gonna run you the fuck down."

"No, no, no, listen," the man says again, waving his hands about. "Do me a favor, will ya? If you drive me to this address -" he holds his phone up and shows an address on the outskirts of the city - "I'll give you $1,000. Right here, right now, no questions." Michael blinks and then snorts. Yeah fucking right. "I'm not an Uber."

The man shifts on both his feet, looking agitated, and glances over his shoulder. There sounds like there's some sort of commotion coming down the street and he really has to move. So Michael leans on the horn again, blasting another honk into the LS skyline.

This has the unintended effect of making the man lean further over the hood of his car, as if he could hide. Remember. This was in the middle of the goddamn street.

"Dude!"

"I'm not kidding!" the wild-eyed man says frantically. "$1500. Deposited directly into your account. I'm serious, kill me and my crew if I lie."

That was no turn of phrase Michael had ever heard, but the money does make him pause. He's... short on funds right now. Well, he's always short on funds, but this time moreso than usual. $1,500 extra would be a huge boost to the amount he currently has in the bank. He'd pay rent. He wouldn't have to borrow any more from anyone else and avoid that loan shark fucker he found online.

Before he could really think about what he was saying, he finds himself tapping the passenger seat. "Fine. Get in. I swear to god, I better see that money."

And if he dies... well. Then he still wouldn't have to worry about rent, so win-win in his mind.

With a triumphant holler, the man leaps into the car and yanks up a GPS on his phone, pointing them to drive down the street. "Thanks man! I'm Gavin." -

They're not going more than five minutes when sirens start blaring behind them. The man tenses and looks backwards out the window with a frown. "Oh shit."

Michael immediately - immediately - realizes just how much he fucked up. "What do you mean, oh shit?"

"I - uh..." The unhinged man - Gavin - stutters. "Did... Did I mention that uh... the LSPD may want to arrest me?"

"May want to what?!" Michael's voice climbs so many octaves in that last word that it makes Gavin slump down in his seat, suitably chagrined. "I ... seriously, man, I - I needed a car, a way out, I promise I'll give you the money, just please for the love of god, drive the damn car."

"Pull Over," the cop car unhelpfully calls from behind them, making Michael's bowels turn to water. Gavin's even more frantically slamming keys on his phone as they approach a major intersection. Michael keeps looking behind him, unable to slow down as the cops continue to chase them. "Gavin, seriously..."

"You're with me now, man," he replies a bit frantically. "You're in it. So either we avoid them, or you're going to jail too. Sorry."

The words fall like bricks on Michael's shoulders as he realizes that what Gavin just said was true. No cop in their right mind would believe that he - a man with a few blotches on his permanent record already - would have just accepted to pick up a hitchhiker and drive him across town at 2am for $1,500 without assuming he was a criminal. No. Any sane cop would assume he was in on it.

Because the alternative was that he was a fucking lunatic, but here we are.

Gritting his teeth, a conscious shift happens somewhere in his gut. He's a survivor. He'd get the fuck out of this, one way or the other. So, without Gavin's input and in a split second decision, he takes a sharp left and rips around the corner, sending Gavin flying against the door with a shout of surprise. "HEY!"

"Gotta avoid the cops, don't we?" Michael says with a maniacal burst of laughter, the insanity that can only be best described as hysteria. "You're the navigator, idiot, get us to where we need to be!"

The nervousness - which had appeared on Gavin's face after Michael had blown up at him - evaporated as Gavin bursts into a big smile. "Hell yeah," he hums. "Let's do this."

After fifteen minutes, Michael had lost all his nerves. Instead, he felt like an overinflated balloon, filled with a giddy sort of lunacy that he had never felt before as they flew down abandoned Los Santos streets. He shrieked with laughter as they slipped down the runway illuminated by neon lights and flashing red and blues, which whipped around them like a rave of their own design.

The freedom was intoxicating. Michael had taken drugs before back in New Jersey, who hadn't(?), but this was a whole different sort of high. And as soon as Gavin realized that Michael was in it with him, he had turned into an erratic demon of death, urging Michael onward with the same fire that was reflected in Michael's soul.

They flew down the streets like hedonists, shrieking with laughter and happiness as Gavin shoves his head out the sunroof to flick off the cops and shout insults.

When the first gunshot cracks through the night, Michael is sobered only for a moment. In for a penny, in for a pound. He's already here, dodging the cops, so this shit may as well happen. It's like he's in a godforsaken video game but he's not. This is real life, this is his life, and maybe he's ruining it. Maybe. But what had he not ruined in his life already? For a few moments, he could feel like he was disconnected from reality, driving so fast he could swear he could fly, a - undeniably pretty - man urging him to new, foolish lengths from the seat next to them.

And so they flew. As they approached intersections and traffic lights, Michael could see - more like sense - Gavin's own particular talents. He admits he has no abilities behind the wheel, hence begging Michael to help him, but he's able to make every traffic light change from here to the safehouse, giggling like a school kid all the while, knowing he was being naughty but that just sends them into a more frenzied set of hysterics.

It tastes like the best drug, the most collective high, the freedom that comes from knowing you're one step away from death or worse but that dangle is intoxicating. Maybe ten minutes ago he hated what was happening, but all that was gone now.

It's just the car, him, and Gavin's frantic - musical - laugh.

Eventually - with Gavin's GPS and eventually warm hand over his - they lose the cops. Michael has no sense of time, no concept of how long they were on the roads causing havoc, fleeing and laughing and shrieking like demons.

All he knows is that he's out in the North now and the beginning shards of sun were peeking over the horizon. He's able to slow to a manageable speed and catch his breath.

Gavin's phone rings and the man answers it. Michael can't hear what he's saying past the ringing in his ears, the result of wind whipping past his face and hours of excitement. His face is red when he meets Gavin's eyes. He closes the phone and the excitement shines bright in his eyes.

For a moment, Michael's breath is taken away. Then Gavin just points. "Top of Chilliad. Get me there." His voice is hoarse from yelling, deeper than it was, and it stirs something that Michael can't explain.

"Yes, sir," he hums teasingly. In for a penny, in for a pound, like he had said before. They start the climb up the dirt road. Once or twice, Michael doesn't think his car can make it, but the tenacious Civic crawls forward as if it knows what it had done too and felt on top of the world.

They make it to the top as the sun finally breaks over the horizon completely, blanketing the world in orange and red. When Michael finally - finally- throws the car in park and looks over at him, Gavin's grinning the biggest grin Michael has ever seen.

Before he can do anything, fuelled by adrenaline and fire and the same pure joy on Gavin's face, Michael leans over and kisses him deeply, half dragging him over the stick shift.

They kiss feverishly for a few moments, the adrenaline fading, before breaking apart and chuckling sheepishly. "I - sorry, I ..."

Gavin just winks. It's knowing. "No problem, luv," he purrs. "Does it to you, doesn't it? The chase? Makes the fire in your blood run hot." He leans forward conspiratorially. "Men weren't made to walk on their knees," he hums. "Think about it." He digs in his pocket and drops a card on the passenger seat before climbing out of the door, even as Michael tries to grab his arm and yank him back. "Gav--"

"Later, beautiful," Gavin grins, seemingly more suave and sophisticated than the man he was when he first climbed into the car. Like he was grifting and Michael was his poor, unsuspecting mark. "I'll call you. You're a great driver. Check your account." He salutes and it's then when Michael can hear the thud-thud of roters. A helicopter?

Before he can say anything, climbing frantically out of the car to watch, Gavin grabs a rope ladder hanging off the bottom of a fucking cargobob and is lifted into the air, disappearing quickly out of sight like something out of a fairy tale.

And Michael is left in the remains of the sun-drenched LS morning, with a car almost empty of gas and mysteriously $1,500 richer.

Whatever had happened to him that night in Los Santos, he knows his life will never, ever be the same.

#fahc #fake ah crew #mavin #ragehappy #fahc mavin #rtwritingdiscord #my writing #rtwritingcommunity

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Unfinished Business

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in so long, but I’ve read so many good fics in the fandom that it inspired me to give it another shot. So, enjoy some dominant, angry Angel Reyes 🤤

It had been well over a week since you had spent any real quality time with Angel. You understood why he was busy—between the club and his family he hadn’t had more than a few spare minutes here and there to text you, or stop in quickly on his way home to say goodnight before taking off again. You weren’t mad about it, but you weren’t happy about it either.

But things were finally starting to calm back down for him. And yet, he had yet to reach out and ask to come over, or ask you to come and see him. You were patient and understanding but you were also needy. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew that everyone was going to be at the clubhouse tonight, a miniature celebration of making it through a stressful couple of weeks, and you were going to make a guest appearance.

You leafed through your closet, deciding on a low-cut black tank top and a tight dark green mini-skirt. Angel loved it because it matched his bike, and you liked it because Angel’s pupils would double in size every time he saw you wear it. You slipped on a pair of black Converse and set off to do your hair and makeup.

You rolled into the scrapyard before the guys were back, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You parked your car, grabbed your purse, and made your way over to the clubhouse. It was sunny and silent, a very different vibe than what it was going to be in a couple hours when everyone was back home and ready to decompress.

Chucky was the only one to be seen when you strode in. He smiled and waved to you, “Hey, Y/N. No one is back yet.”

You smiled, nodding, “I know. I just got here early to take care of a few things. Plus, I can help you set up! What do you need me to do?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. Angel would—”

“Angel isn’t here, is he?” you cut him off with a smile, “So, how can I help you, Chucky?”

He shifted on his feet, trying to figure out how to navigate these waters, “I need to go and get a liquor delivery. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the clubhouse for me? I should be back in less than an hour.”

You nodded, “You got it. Go do what you gotta do, Chucky.”

He gave a single nod, “You are the real Angel.”

You laughed to yourself as you watched him walk out of the clubhouse. You loved all of the guys, of course, but there was something so enjoyable about every exchange you had with Chucky. You never wanted to see him leave.

You took advantage of Chucky’s absence to set your plan in motion. You slipped off to the bathroom. It was tight quarters, which was the thing you hated most about the clubhouse, but you could make it work. You locked the door and set your phone up to record yourself. You set the phone on the one shelf in the bathroom that held a couple extra rolls of toilet paper, and then perched yourself up on the sink counter, feet resting on the closed toilet lid, making sure the camera got just enough of an upward angle to see clearly up your skirt. You dug around in your purse for a moment, smiling evilly to yourself as your fingers landed on your small bullet vibrator. You tossed your purse to the floor and hit the self-timer on your phone to start recording.

The bathroom and clubhouse were both silent. You smirked into the camera before making a show of slowly hiking up your skirt, exposing the small piece of pink fabric that was passing for your underwear. You turned on the vibrator, the sound seeming so loud against the silence of the small room that you were in.

You lowered it, lightly tracing it over the outside of your panties, gasping at the initial contact. Your body instinctively moved to grind against the vibrator, letting out a low moan. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long—you hadn’t been touched by Angel or yourself in ten days and your body was screaming for a little bit of release.

You turned the intensity up on the vibrator, letting out a raspy, “Fuck,” as your body began to tremble. Your panties darkened and dampened from your arousal, and it was taking every last bit of self-control to not let yourself come right then. You bit down hard on your lip, “Mmm,” you threw your head back, “fuck, Angel, I miss you.”

It had only been a couple minutes but you knew you were going to have to tap out. You looked straight into the camera as you pulled your panties to the side, “Too bad I’ll have to cum without you,” you slid the vibrator inside of you and moaned loudly.

What started off as a tease for Angel vey quickly turned into some overdue relief for yourself. Between the feeling of you pumped the vibrator in and out, and the vibrations themselves, it was only a matter of moments before your eyes were rolling back in anticipation of your orgasm. You fought the urge to scream as your core tightened, legs locking up as your body finally got a sweet sense of release. You felt light-headed as you turned the vibrator off, trying to catch your breath as you slowly pulled it out of you.

You looked back into the camera, repositioning your underwear and sliding the vibrator in and out of your mouth, tasting yourself. You leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, “I’ll see you soon, Amor,” stopping the video.

Before watching it and sending it, you wanted to straighten yourself out first. You hopped down, fixing your skirt and checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still okay. You washed off your vibrator, putting it back in your purse with a chuckle. You grabbed your phone and left the bathroom, no one would ever know you were in there.

You took a seat at the bar, and after a quick rewatch of the video to make sure he would be able to hear you, you set about sending a text to Angel. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, “Since you haven’t been around to take care of business, I had to do it myself xo” you attached the video and sent it on its way. Your whole body was trembling for more than one reason now as you anxiously awaited an answer.

About five minutes later your phone buzzed, a notification for a text from Angel appeared on your screen. Your hands shook as you opened it, wondering what you were getting yourself into, “Better make sure those panties are off by the time I get home if you want me to fucking take care of business”

You let out a shudder, but didn’t respond to him. It’d be more fun this way. In the meantime, Chucky returned and the two of you got the place set up for everyone’s return. There wasn’t a whole lot to be done, but between the two of them it all got finished rather quickly.

Another hour or so ticked by, and more people had filtered in to be part of the action once everyone was home again. The music was on and people were already drinking, but you were scrolling through your phone when you heard the deafening sounds of the whole club arriving back at the clubhouse. You tossed your phone in your purse, placing the bag behind the bar where it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. You stood up, straightening yourself out before the guys all walked in.

Everyone was all smiles as they crossed the threshold of the clubhouse. You greeted all of them with smiles and hugs. You had caught Angel lingering at the back of the pack and you were wondering if that was calculated or not.

You stepped over to him to give him a hug and a kiss, but didn’t even get the chance. He spun you around and began firmly guiding you across the expanse of the clubhouse, “Bathroom, now,” he growled. Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from those two words.

He pushed you into the small room, closing and locking the door behind the both of you. You laughed, “Not even a hello?”

“Yea, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” he backed you up against the sink counter. He had at least a foot on you, a height gap you usually tried to close with heels. You craned your neck back to look him in the eye. His expression read as angry but you could see the look in his eyes—he had been fighting the urge to take you right in the middle of the clubhouse. His hand crept around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, “You think I can’t take care of you?”

Your knees were already weak, but you weren’t going to give in that easily, “You certainly haven’t been.”

His grip on your neck tightened, “Better watch that fuckin’ mouth, Y/N, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you smirked at him, loving every second of this game.

He let go of your neck, using both hands to yank your skirt up and heft you up onto the counter. The speed and ease with which he was able to toss you around never ceased to amaze you, and turn you on. His hands strayed down to your now-exposed hips. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your underwear. “What’d I say about these?” he leaned in and growled into your ear.

Before you could respond he ripped them off, tossing them to the side, causing you to gasp. You reached for his belt but he grabbed your wrists, able to hold them both tightly with one hand. He leaned in, taking in your scent as his other hand cupped your face. The feeling of his beard against your neck made you break out in goosebumps. He kissed and sucked on your earlobe for a moment before asking, “You want me to take care of you, Princesa?”

You knew you were in for it when he started calling you that—that pet name was reserved for when you were being especially bratty. “Yes,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Without another word he dropped to his knees, pulling you close to him by your hips. You braced yourself on the counter, whimpering in anticipation. His breath was warm against your thighs and core. You gripped his shoulders, pushing him into you. He let out what you assumed was a laugh as he pressed his tongue and lips against you. You moaned, nails digging into him as his tongue repeatedly went over your clit.

“Make me cum, Angel,” you begged.

He reached up, sliding two fingers into your mouth. You moaned, wetting them for him. He brought his hand back down, sliding his fingers in and out of you as his tongue continued to work you over. Your cries grew louder, and there was no doubt that the clubhouse was hearing you call his name, and Angel loved it. He slowly rose to his feet, still pumping his fingers into you. He pressed his lips hard onto yours, stifling your moans with a kiss for a moment before straying to your neck and leaving marks there for the rest of the world to see.

“Cum for me,” it was an order, and one that you were happy to oblige to. You gripped the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as you came.

“I love you, Angel,” you were trying to catch your breath still.

“Mmm, I love you too, Y/N, but we’re not done yet.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of business,” his hand was back at your throat, “We’re only halfway there. You still gotta pay up for that little stunt earlier, you know.”

He let go of your neck, guiding your hands to his belt buckle. You were still seated on the counter, hands shaky from everything you just experienced. You fumbled for a moment but were able to get the belt undone. You also undid the button and zipper on his jeans, nearly salivating as you tugged them down slightly. You lightly traced his erection through his boxers, causing him to gasp.

He pulled you off of the counter and spun you around so you were bent over it instead. He leaned close to your ear, “Enough teasing from you.”

You heard the sound of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor around his ankles. He lightly traced his fingers between your legs, your pussy still dripping. He let out a low chuckle as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing wavered in anticipation. He slowly started to push into you, both of you letting out moans of pleasure.

He started thrusting into you slowly, pulling out almost all the way before filling you up again. You could hear him cursing under his breath about how good you felt, and it made your knees weak. The slow pace was torturous but you loved it.

Then, just as you were adjusting to the pace, he slammed into you. You yelped in surprise and he quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, applying pressure. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted as he continued fucking you over the counter, “Isn’t that right, Princesa? You wanted me to come home and take care of business?”

He let go of your throat and you coughed, trying to catch your breath. You were lightheaded from a mixture of the overstimulation of him fucking you and also the lack of blood that was getting to your brain while his hand was around your neck. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you back against him over and over. His hold on you was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor.

He smacked your ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” it was half-whisper, half-moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You felt his grip tighten even more as he continued to pound you. He let out a moan as he came inside you, making your knees finally give way. He was able to brace and keep you somewhat upright. He let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you, lifting you so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You sank back against him with a shaky sigh.

“Is ten days too long, Y/N?” he whispered in your ear. All you could do was nod in response, earning another laugh from him. He spun you around and kissed you hard on the lips before letting go of you and pulling his pants back up. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh and between your legs, “Better clean yourself up, Amor. We still have a party to go to.”

#angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #mayans mc #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc x reader #my writing #angel reyes drabble #angel reyes smut #drabblesmc

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hopelesshawks · 4 years ago

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History of Us Part 12- Your Mother's Daughter

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Warning for canon typical violence

Masterlist Kofi

Bakugo’s text apology, believe it or not, was more eloquent than the one he offers in person but you appreciate the gesture and the brief hug he gives you when he realizes you’ve been crying. “It’s fine dumbass, you made it to the finals now just give it your all,” he huffs. Kirishima also pulls you into a hug, much longer than the one Bakugo had given you, and spends the whole time giving you a motivational speech about how incredibly cool and manly you are and how sure he is that you’ll do even better in the finals. You really are lucky to have the friends that you do. Especially since you anticipate the crowd is about to sour towards you.

All too quickly it’s time to return to the stadium where Principle Nezu is waiting on a raised platform with a box filled with slips of paper with bracket placements on them. The energy in the stadium is electric as the crowd anxiously waits to see what the bracket will be. It’s different than with the first years, where everyone’s an unknown. The crowd recognizes most of the names now from news reports and hero rescues. Dyed hair could only hide you for so long. “We will now call up the finalists one at a time to draw lots for the bracket!” Nezu announces. One by one you hear others around you getting called up. Bakugo, Midoriya, Shoto, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Denki, Sero, Hitoshi Shinso, Neito Monoma, Tokoyami, Iida, Uraraka, Jiro, Ibara Shiozaki and Itsuka Kendo all get called to roaring cheers and applause. That’s 15 names. The little fucking rodent had left you for last. Probably likes the idea of the dramatic reveal. “And last but not least, our 16th finalist (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Nezu calls and it’s like the air is sucked from the room as the crowd gets quiet and then starts murmuring to themselves. You keep your head held high as you walk to the stage even as you notice some of your classmates staring at you and the members of class b whispering. You take the last remaining lot with your head held high, throwing a wink at a nearby camera to further show them their displeasure won’t deter you.

You feel the stares of your classmates as you walk back down the stage. It’s them you really care about in all honesty. 3A had been nothing but kind to you since your arrival and it would hurt a little for their friendship to sour (you’re definitely not thinking about someone in particular at that statement) but before anyone can say anything Bakugo and Kirishima are standing next to you protectively. Kirishima links his arm through yours. “Come on, let’s head to the stands while we wait for them to start the first match,” Kiri grins at you. You give him a grateful smile and are pleasantly surprised when the rest of class a seems to fall in line behind you. None of them look at you any differently, there’s no shift in the atmosphere or added tension. Even as you can feel the glares of the crowd on your back, your new friends shield you from it until you’re in the safety of the tunnel and heading up to the stands.

“You and (y/n) stopped talking about 10 years ago right?” Midoriya asks Shoto as they walk at the back of the pack of class A students. “Yes,” Shoto confirms. “So that’s about when Black Storm was-“ “Yes.” “So Endeavor made you stop talking to her so you wouldn’t be associated with Black Storm.” “Basically.” “Jesus.” Midoriya places a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. Shoto briefly acknowledges the gesture but says nothing as everyone settles into their seats. Nezu then begins to explain the rules of the last game. It’s essentially a wrestling match, the whole stadium is fair game and you win if you can pin your opponent for five seconds or completely immobilize them. Injuries are fine but take it too far and Eraserhead and Cementoss will shut it down. You nod along as the bracket is projected onto the monitors. Your first round is with the Neito Monoma kid, you don’t know much about him, just that the mere mention of his name has Bakugo growling “You better beat that fucking extra.” “Like I’d get eliminated in the first round,” you scoff back, confidence starting to build again as your classmates continue to support you.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a guy with a large shock of purple hair and bags for days under his eyes leaning down to wave at you. You hear Denki yelp and nearly fall out of his chair nearby but ignore it. “(Y/l/n) huh?” he asks, a slight smile. “Yea. Problem with that?” you ask. “Not at all. Villain quirks gotta stick together right?” he smirks as he offers his hand. “I’m only half villain quirk but sure,” you smirk but then you freeze, eyes glazing over before you can reach to take his hand. He smirks back at you as your hand moves to shake his without your permission. You find yourself reaching for your phone, it unlocking once it recognizes your face, and then going to your contacts before plugging in a new number. You snap back to awareness a little stunned, looking between the new contact in your phone and the baffling boy with the mind control quirk who’s currently walking away. “If you wanted my number you could’ve just asked like a normal person!” you call after him. Unbeknownst to you, Shoto watches the entire interaction with barely concealed jealousy.

It’s not long before it’s finally time for your first match. The others had briefed you on Monoma’s quirk, warning you about his copying ability. “Can he copy a quirk if he doesn’t know you have it?” you ask curiously. “I don’t know actually. Most people don’t have two quirks you know, although I don’t necessarily see how it would help?” Kirishima offers with a shrug, having already made it through his first round and into the table of 8. “Trust me, I have a game plan,” you assure him. “See you guys on the other side,” you tell him as you walk down to the tunnel to wait for them to announce your entrance. “And on our left, here she comes. Ready to blaze her own trail and show the whole world that she is more than her name, it’s (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Present Mic’s voice booms over the loud speaker as you walk into the stadium properly. The crowd boos and you must admit it stings a little but you aren’t entirely unaccustomed to the negative attention. Your eyes wander over to the section where your friends are. Bakugo gives you a nod as Denki, Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Jiro scream and cheer for you, their bodies half over the railing. They can’t drown out the rest of the stadium but they’re trying to and that warms your heart. You grin at them before locking eyes back on your opponent, stepping up to the start point they’ve indicated. “START!” Present Mic’s voice booms and immediately you lunge forward, drawing shadows into your palm before pushing them forward to race towards Monoma.

You’re not shocked when Monoma counters with shadows of his own, knocking yours away, but you can’t help but grin when you notice he’s producing shadows from both of his palms instead of just one. “I should’ve recognized you had Daddy’s quirk the minute I saw you during the qualifying rounds,” Monoma needles and you know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you but you can’t help how your temper starts to flare. He may be using your quirk but he’s clumsier with it, the result of picking it up for the first time now versus your years and years of experience. You send forward another burst of shadows making sure to get your left hand caught in the blast so it looks like both are doing the work. As Monoma clumsily sends forward his own to redirect yours you close the distance in, sweeping his legs out from underneath him. He quickly rolls before you can try to pin him down and you just barely manage to dodge the kick he’d aimed at you in retaliation. “You were there weren’t you? The day your father went rogue,” he taunts. You suck in a harsh breath allowing him an opportunity to lash out at you again and you wince a little at the sharp sting it leaves on your cheek where he’d managed to cut you with your own quirk. Your first instinct is to heal it but you hold off. Not yet. It’s not time to reveal your hand yet. “How the fuck do you know that?” you grit out before lashing out at him harder and faster. He extends both palms out, shadows flying forward to counter your own and as his hands retract you can see black crawling up his arms. Good. Your plan is working. “Oh the little daddy daughter field trip was all over the news sweetheart, we all know you were there to watch the carnage. Why do you think no one trusts you?” Monoma taunts. He fires off both palms again but this time instead of dispersing the shadows you raise both your hands, again feigning that both are doing the work, you push back against his, the shadowy energy growing and growing as you’re both slowly pushed backwards by the force of it. You hold strong though even as more and more black veins crawl up your right arm and your forearm begins to burn with the pain. You can hear Monoma grunting in pain on the other side so you kick it up a notch, fighting through your own pain until finally he breaks. He releases with a gasp, hunching forward with the pain. He looks up expecting to see you in a similar state but instead he finds you glowing as you stride towards him, the black veins rapidly fading as the light you radiate chases them back. Once you're in front of him he barely has any time to react before you deck him across the face, knocking him to the ground. You put one foot on his chest to keep him down, increasing the strength of your healing quirk just so that you’ll glow a little more brightly as you lean down to look him directly in the eye. “I may be my father’s daughter,” you start as the monitor counts down five seconds, “but I’m also my mother’s.”

The countdown finishes and an airhorn blares to signal your victory. You turn away from him, leaving him gaping at you like a fish on the ground as you walk back to the tunnel. The booing of the crowd that follows you out is music to your ears.

As far as you’re concerned? They can die mad about it.

A/N: Ngl I made Shinso so smooth in this one I was like alternate route? 💀 But n o lmao this is Shoto’s fic. OH ALSO we got even more about what happened when (y/n) was 8! I love mixing in her lore, I've actually had the very basic idea for her backstory and potentially where I’m going to take this fic after the sports festival arc since when I first started watching the show. The fight with Monoma in particular has been plotted out literally since I watched the final exam arc I think back when I was primarily a Todoroki simp oop so it's been really fun for me to get to write it here considering I never thought it would be a concept that left my head.

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @mindofess @todoplusultra @oliviasslut

#hopelesshou #shoto smau #shoto x reader #shoto x fem!reader #shoto x y/n #todoroki smau #todoroki x reader #todoroki x fem!reader #todoroki x y/n #shoto todoroki

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marvelobsessedteenager · 4 years ago

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All The Hurt - Chapter 5

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: had to make this one short because the next one is hella long

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

“Phew, all right,” you wheezed through fast pants as you finally reached the computer room, hand numb and aching from the dripping ice pack in your palm, “you need to explain to me what’s happening. Because- man, I’m out of shape.” You placed your hands on your hips and bent slightly for a moment, taking a huge gulp of air before marching over to Ned and giving him the pack, “I’m confused as fuck, Ned.”

One of his hands continued its work while the other reached out to grab the pack. His fingers continued to type away with speed you’d never seen before as he spoke, eyes never leaving the screen, "Okay, long story short, the day you were at the bodega-” you flinched, “-was the same day that bank was robbed using high tech weapons. Those weapons were part human and part alien, and were being created by a dude who has wings on his back. Peter found out that that guy is Liz’s dad, and now Peter’s going after him to stop him from selling even more weapons.”

He hissed as he placed the ice on his eye. You blinked, nodding once as you felt entranced by the layered codes on Ned’s screen. It was weird how you understood it and read them like they were normal words and letters. You mentally thanked your summer coding camp for the extra knowledge. "I..feel like there’s a lot more to the story than that but yeah, okay, I got it.”

A buzzing from your purse interrupted your entrancement. You shook your head and opened your purse, pulling out your vibrating phone.

Incoming call from..Flash.

You furrowed your eyebrows and rolled your eyes, taking a seat across from Ned and starting up your own computer, "Now’s really not a good time, E.”

"It’s not Flash, it’s Peter!” Peter practically screamed, making you wince from his panic-stricken voice and loud background noise that was filled with New York’s most obnoxious honks.

"Wha- did you steal Flash’s phone?” You asked incredulously, putting him on speaker while you typed away, hearing the same swift clicking coming from Ned’s side.

“No! I asked him for it!” He paused for a moment, “And his car!”

“What?!”

“You stole Flash’s car?” Ned asked, jaw-dropping and eye-widening in amazement, “Cool!”

“Yeah, it’s awesome, it’s awesome!”

"Peter! You’ve never driven before! How can you be driving?!” You scolded, suddenly feeling a twist in your gut at the thought of an accident due to his lack of experience in driving. Peter was never one to make impulsive decisions as dangerous as this. You guessed he changed over the months that passed.

"I know, this is a really big step for me and- ahhhhh! Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” Your hands froze in their place as you awaited a crash with a thundering heart, but it never came, which made you sigh in relief. The engine’s sound increased in volume as the car accelerated, but Peter’s voice was still louder, "I can’t see anything in this car!"

"Which car did you..borrow?” You asked, fingers returning back to work. You figured if you could help him, he’d get out of the vehicle at a much faster rate, and all you wanted to do was keep him safe and unharmed.

"How many does he own?” Peter asked in awe, honking the horn multiple times and screaming a couple of‘ move’s!

"Not important right now! What’s the logo of the car?"

"The four Olympic circle thingies."

"An Audi.” You said under your breath. Thank God, you thought, a car I'm familiar with, “Do you know how to turn the headlights on?

"No!"

"There’s a knob on the left of the steering wheel. Turn it clockwise.”

Peter repeated your instructions, and released a small laugh of victory, ”How’s Ned doing with Happy?”

“Uh,” You peeked over your screen, noticing beads of sweat form on Ned's forehead, even with the cool ice helping his eye, “Ned?”

"Getting to him..” He said, not paying you any attention.

"Have you found my phone yet?” Peter asked.

"Working on it, sit tight,” you replied, finally seeing a moving blue dot pop up on your screen, "He’s on Jackson Avenue and 48th Street."

“Perfect! And Happy?”

You once again awaited Ned’s answer, and worried when a distressed look flashed upon his face, “He hung up on me.” He frowned, "I’ll try again.”

You looked back down at your screen and realized that the blue dot had suddenly stopped moving. You squinted, “Hey, he stopped at 10th street and 43rd avenue in Brooklyn.”

"What? That makes no sense!"

"Welcome to my world,” you mumbled, hearing a small chuckle come from Ned before he focused on talking to Happy again.

“He said he was going out of town!” Peter explained, obviously having heard you, but it did nothing to diffuse your confusion. Why would Liz’s dad stop in Brooklyn when he said he was leaving?

"Weird..” You commented, rubbing your eyebrow as you started to feel the pressure. Jesus Christ, is this what Peter goes through?

“Dammit,” Ned muttered, catching your attention, "Happy sounded like he was catching a flight,” he said, “he mentioned something about taking off in nine minutes."

"What?” You and Peter simultaneously said, and you fought the butterflies that made their way to your stomach. Now’s not the time.

"He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes,” Ned clarified.

“Boxes?” Peter wondered out loud, and you were sure you could see his face as he put two and two together, "It’s moving day! It’s moving day, it’s moving day, he’s gonna rob that plane, I gotta stop him! Shit, I don’t know how to get the directions on this car.”

You jumped at the chance to help again, pleased that Peter finally had a destination to get to, "I’ve got his location, I’ll lead you.” You pulled up Flash’s location from the Find My Friends app, eyes jumping back and forth between your phone and the computer’s screen as you voiced the directions to Peter.

Peter’s foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, causing too much skidding, and you had to try your best to hold your tongue as to not to be a backseat driver. You wondered if you were in the position to berate Peter for impulsively stealing Flash’s possessions and driving recklessly. You found it amusing that the crime fighting Spider-Man had committed two crimes as of tonight.

"Slow down, there’s a right turn up ahead. You’re gonna take it.” You directed, just as Peter’s dot passed his exit, "Parker! Turn right, turn right!”

Peter screamed as the engine roared and the car skidded so loud you were barely able to hear his web shoot out. Your eyes widened in fear as you heard metal grinding against the concrete before coming to a halt with a harsh thump. Peter’s hasty breathing seemed match yours.

"Are you okay?!” You and Ned asked, your voice cracking and brain melting.

"I’m okay.” He breathed, making you drop your head in relief, shoulders easing up, "Just keep trying to get through to Happy.”

"It’s been an honor, Spider-Man.” Ned saluted, and you gave him a look of disapproval.

But then you both turned your heads at the piercing sound of high heels clicking in the hallways that were getting louder as the person headed in your direction. Ned’s face became as white as a sheet, surely matching yours.

'What do we do?' He mouthed, eyes rapidly bouncing back and forth between the door and you.

You bit your lip and glanced at the door before sighing and getting on your feet, “I’ll distract her,” You whispered, removing all traces from the computer, “keep calling Happy.”

Ned nodded in affirmation as you straightened out your dress and took a deep breath, cautiously opening the computer room’s door and stepping outside. Ms.Warren was peeping into the science lab across the computer room, and you took this as your chance to make it look like you were just making your way in.

She turned around and jumped, “Jesus!” She placed a hand on her chest, “What are you doing-“

She stepped closer and squinted at your figure in the dark, “Y/n,” she seethed.

She said your name with poison dancing on her tongue, causing a deep frown to settle between her eyebrows as she popped her hip and crossed her arms, "What are you doing here? There’s a dance, and you know it’s prohibited to be in this area.”

“I know, Ms.Warren,” you surpassed the urge to literally bite this woman’s head off and pretended to be vulnerable for a moment. You looked down at your feet, trying to conjure up an excuse that was easy to believe - Ms.Warren wasn’t exactly gullible, and wasn’t fond of you, either. Your reputation for causing trouble in her class cost you her trust, but you frankly couldn’t give a fuck. Plus, it was fun to mess around with her, what’s one more time?

“I just..” Your mind went blank as her eyes searched yours, a small glint of mischief shining in them. Oh, you bet she fantasized about the day she’d get you expelled from Midtown, but you weren’t ever going to let her see that day. So, you did what you always did when you got into trouble.

Play the absent parents' card.

“I just..I just w-wanted to call my dad. It’s quiet in here.” You said, faking your wobbly voice. No teacher liked it when they had to deal with crying students, especially those who hid the fact that they had no role models around them, like yourself. A look of confusion flashed in her eyes.

You were getting somewhere.

“It’s just..h-he’s been gone for so long, Ms. Warren, and I never see him. He called me tonight, and he never has before.” You fiddled with the ends of your hair, “What if he tells me he’s here? Here to see me? While I’m partying down t-there?” You sniffed for extra effect, somehow feeling your eyes swell with tears.

Weird.

You took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling to make it look like you were trying to hold yourself from falling apart, “I-I just wanted to call him,” you repeated, thickening your voice even more, “maybe he’ll apologize for never being there for me, especially after m-mom left us when I was ten.” You were almost impressed with yourself as you felt hot tears run down your face, traced with the mascara you applied before coming here.

In Ms.Warren’s shadow, you could tell her eyebrows were furrowed, and she was looking anywhere but you, clearly trying to choose between two options.

“I’ve never had a parent in my life.” You pushed, "No one taught me how to ride a bike, or swim, a-and I feel so left out because all the other kids have parents and I don’t!”

You grabbed onto her arms, looking her dead in the eye, “Please, please, just let me piece my life back together. Let me call him.”

For a moment, you swore you saw her demeanor soften. Just a moment where you felt like she understood you, not pitied you. But, just as quick as it came, it disappeared when she cleared her throat and looked around.

“Okay, okay.” She sighed, "But make it quick,” she stepped back from your grasp, ready to bolt, but you took the chance to make her slightly more uneasy.

What?

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, of course you were going to take it.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” You sprung into her, arms folding around her tightly as she stiffened, clearly feeling uncomfortable about the affection you were displaying. You breathed in through your nose, hard, and nearly laughed when you felt her hands on your shoulders, trying to peel you off of her with a face of disgust.

“Don’t mention it, s-sweetie.” She said, discreetly rubbing her hands on her dress, "You better go now before your dad gets busy again.”

“You're right, you’re right."

And for your final act, you pretended to sniff and wipe your nose with your arm, catching Ms. Warrner’s eye twitch. She was known for being a massive germaphobe, which really only came in handy during her class - until now.

She cleared her throat once again, turned around, and marched down the hallway, practically running away from you until she was gone. You placed a hand over your mouth, muffling your giggles as you entered the computer room once again, slowly closing the door behind you.

“She’s gone?” Ned swiveled in his chair to face you, cracking a smile when you happily nodded and wiped at your face.

“How about you? What’d Happy say?” You walked over to him, running your eyes over the lengthy call history, which was mainly filled with declined calls from your side.

“Um,” Ned rubbed his arm in shame, “he cursed. A lot. And he..he blocked me,”

Your face dropped, hearing Ned sigh and imitating him.

“What do we do now?” Ned asked, desperate as ever.

You waited for a moment, feeling a lightbulb go off in your head as you rushed to the other side and opened your phone.

“Give me his number,” You said, dialing the number Ned voiced to you and putting him on speaker. You crossed your fingers and waited for him to pick up, each ring only causing you more anxiety.

“Yeah?” Happy said, sounding quite annoyed.

“Well, damn, you don’t sound like a Happy to me. You sound like a grumpy.” You rolled your eyes, immediately regretting what you said.

“Not this shit again,” He said angrily, and you were pretty sure he was going to hang up, making you panic all over again.

“Someone’s going to steal Mr. Stark’s shit!” You blurted, wincing when you heard nothing from the other line for a moment. You were going to check if he hung up on you when you heard a, “what?”

“T-the plane!” You exclaimed, "The plane with all of Tony’s stuff! There’s a guy who’s going to steal it and Parker’s going to stop him!”

“You know what? How about you tell Parker that he has some delusional, weird fr-“ His voice suddenly faded out, “Holy shit.” He breathed.

“What? What happened?”

"The plane just crashed.”

Your heart dropped to the feet as the color drained from your face, feeling the blood rushing through your ears and fear spiking in your chest. Somehow, somehow, you knew Peter was where the crash was, and you feared the worst possible outcome. You didn’t even hang up as you rounded the table, picked up your keys, and ran out the door.

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tags: @peachescream06

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #y/n #marvel #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst

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crimefightingspiderguy · 4 years ago

Text

to be so lonely

Summary: “Hi could you do angst spider man x female reader but with fluffy ending please and thank you.” (REQUESTED BY @icequeen2021)

Warnings: Torture is mentioned and injuries do occur. Spoilers for Spider-Man: Far From Home and Avengers: Infinity War & Endgame.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word count: 4,494

A/N: Just as a precaution, I did not proofread this because its almost 4 a.m. here and I really just wanted to get this out to you guys! I hope the requester and everyone else enjoys this, I had a lot of fun writing it. I also wanted to note that this occurs post Spider-Man: Far From Home so since I don't really know who took charge of the Avengers after Tony and Steve's deaths, I just assumed it was Sam/Falcon/Captain America for the purpose of this fic. Lastly, I'm aware that mutants have yet to be introduced into the MCU, but my guess is that they are going to claim Monica (and now Wanda) from WandaVision as mutants, so I'm running with it in this fic.

“Hello?” Peter’s groggy voice came through the darkness. You stood in the doorway, light now beaming into the room, waking Peter.

“Oh, thank goodness. I had… a bad dream. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You were one of the newest Avengers and when Peter Parker’s identity was revealed to the world, Sam told you to help him go into hiding, at least until they were sure it was safe for him to stay at the Avengers compound. You were (as you put it) cursed with the ability to see the future. After Hydra had gotten found out about the time stone, they sent you in as a spy to try to find out more about it. You studied under Dr. Strange for a couple of months before he even let you see it. One night, he let you even practice with it. Unfortunately, your genes were predisposed to be mutated, all they needed was the right amount of radiation to kick start them. To touch the stone, was to mutate your genes, triggering your curse. Your new mutation was being able to see into the future. Dr. Strange ended up finding out that Hydra sent you and realizing that they would only turn you into a weapon, he helped you fake your death and sent you to the Avengers, changing your identity and living under the radar. Your mutation was the perfect thing to help Peter while on the run, since you would constantly be one step ahead of your enemies. Peter had the ability to sense danger coming his way, so he thought he would be fine on his own, but you could see farther out into the future and see multiple paths that could occur based on one small choice, so Sam wouldn’t even listen to any of Peter’s protests to having you come along. It’s not that he didn’t want you to come along, because you two were friends, but he didn’t want to put you in extra danger of being seen by Hydra or getting hurt because of him.

“A bad dream or a glimpse into the future?” Peter asked, alert now.

“A bad dream… I think. Let me look again.” You tried to focus on your current path. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But there it was, a small branch that when followed lead to the dream you had. The only choice that had to be made was you turning on the lights to check on Peter, tipping someone watching you off that you were in fact staying here. You quickly opened your eyes and ran out to the living room. You shut off all the lights throughout the whole empty apartment you were “staying” in. You had been moving from place to place so when you found an apartment that was prepped for open house showings, the two of you decided to hang out there until you saw a showing being held and then you would tidy stuff up and ditch the place. Unfortunately, it appeared in this distant future, whoever was following the two of you got a tip that an empty apartment was all the sudden getting activity regularly.

You went back into the room Peter had taken, “Get in the closet, now.” Peter rushed out of the bed and did as he was told. You got into the closet next to him and pulled the door shut. You glimpsed into the future and quickly saw that the person was on their way, they would be there in minutes and one of the places they would in fact check was the closet. Just then, Peter’s skin lit up in goosebumps and you knew it was too late to move him.

“Can you tell who…” Peter began to whisper, but you quickly put a hand over his mouth, seeing they were about to walk into the front door. Luckily, you had locked it, so they would have to take a minute to pick the lock, so they don’t draw suspicion with a loud bang of breaking the door down.

“I’m going to do something; you have to just trust me. Whatever happens, whatever you hear me say, don’t leave the closet. You understand?” you spoke out low and fast.

“But…”

“Do you understand?” You looked him dead in the eyes, time was ticking.

He nodded. You grabbed one of his extra web shooters from his bag in on the closet floor. You slowly pulled the closet door open and shut behind you, taking one more look at Peter, putting your finger over your mouth as a reminder for him to stay silent. You moved over to the bed Peter was moments ago sleeping soundly on, leaned over to the window above it and opened it wide. You stood on the bed, positioning your body to make it look like you were trying to escape out the window. You stood in your position and waited, silently shooting a web out the window to the building across the street and tossed the shooter underneath the bed. You heard the door finally unlock and slowly creak open. They were most likely assuming the two of you were asleep and had no inclination he was there. After seeing no signs of life in the living room, he began heading for the bathroom. Looking into the future to see if your plan would work, you saw a small issue. If he took his time searching through each room, Peter would eventually sneeze and expose himself. You needed to get the guy out of there now. You looked over to the lamp on the side table on the right of the bed. You kicked it as hard as you could, causing the bulb to shatter on the hard-wood floor as it landed. You cussed in a loud enough to hear whisper and positioned yourself back half-way out the window. The man was now bursting through the bedroom door, first looking to the lamp that caused the sound, then to the person who was clearly trying to escape him.

“Shit Peter, go, go, go! Get out of here!” You shout out to a non-existent Peter outside of the building. “I’ll be fine, go now!” You put on the most panicked look you could while you whipped your head back to the man who was just now putting two and two together. He ran over to the window, yanked you off the ledge and looked outside. He saw the web hanging from the other building across the street, blowing silently in the wind, the web-shooter himself nowhere to be seen. The man’s grip on your arms painfully increased, making it easy for you to keep the pain-filled, scared look on your face.

“That was a very stupid move missy. I’m sure if you’re important enough for him to take on the run, he won’t be leaving you behind for long.” He turned out the window and yelled, “You hear that Spidey? You want the girl, you’ve gotta come and get her.” While his head was turned from you, you looked into the closet just barely able to see Peter’s eyes from the moonlight shining in and across the shutters of the closet. You shook your head slightly as you saw in the near future Peter putting his hand on the door and opening it to come save you.

“He’s not coming back; you might as well save your breath.” You said to the man as he brought his head back inside.

“Why wouldn’t he come back for you? Isn’t that his whole shtick? Saver of the defenseless?”

“Because I told him not to come back. I told him to not look back, so he won’t.”

“What makes you so sure he’ll do what you say?”

“Because if he truly loves me, he won’t come back.” You knew that no one knew of your relationship status with Peter, especially considering no one even knew you were an Avenger. So even though you were not dating Peter, they didn’t know otherwise, and you were going to use that to your advantage.

“Ahhh, so you’re his little girlfriend. That’s why you’re with him. We was starting to think you was an Avenger. We’ll this is even better because I’m sure some torture will get you talking. We won’t even need him to come find us, because you’ll lead us right to him.”

“I’d rather die.” You spat in his face.

“Oh, don’t worry, you will. But not until we find our spidey.” He smiled a nasty smile and yanked your arm out of the socket as if it was nothing, and you gave a choked-out scream.

He tossed you over his shoulder and walked out of the apartment. You couldn’t see into the closet anymore, but you could see into the future and Peter was in absolute shock, but he did as you asked and stayed put until the next morning, when he could be sure the apartment would no longer be watched.

At some point you had been knocked unconscious, or maybe you were drugged? It was hard to tell with the throbbing in your head making your memory foggy. You woke up to realize you were tied up to a chair, in a dark and empty room. You blinked rapidly trying to clear your hazed mind, and when it began to work, you looked into the future to see what was coming. You had three paths, all waiting on someone to make the next move. One path was the man from before coming in with a crowbar and breaking your bones with it, one by one, until you told him what he wanted, which you never did, resulting in you dying of internal bleeding. You shuddered at the thought, hoping your other paths would be better. The second was Peter tracking you down and coming to save you. This led to the death of both you and Peter. Your heart began to race, the image of Peter’s cold and unmoving body lying on the ground in an unnatural twist was harder to look at than the image of you weeping over him, only to meet the same fate. The third and final path was you getting out of the ropes and being able to fight your way out of the place. This third path had an uncertain ending, because while you would be able to get out of the chair, it wasn’t clear if you’d be able to fight off all of the people standing around outside of the room you were held in.

You quickly thought through all of the moves that Bucky had taught you from his years as a killing machine. There were a few that you could pull of successfully on Bucky himself, leaving you some hope that you would be able to fight them off, but looking at the sheer number of people outside that would run to attack, it’s hard to imagine they wouldn’t be ganging up on you causing a more powerful attack than even Bucky could prepare you for. You looked around the room for an escape, literally anything. You saw it in the corner to the left of you. The way out. You looked into the future after deciding that was how you would escape, and surprisingly the outcome was clear and successful. You quickly kicked off your shoe and rolled off your sock on the floor. Taking your now free toes, you stuck them into your shoe and slid the folded pocket knife you hid in the too big for you shoes in-between your big toe and second one. You pulled it out, holding onto it for dear life with your foot. You put your leg to the side of the chair, pulling your foot up into the air and back towards your hands as much as you could with the ropes constraining you. You were just able to grab the edge of the folded over knife and once you had a grip, flipped it open and began sawing away at the ropes. You saw that the men outside were unmoving and weren’t planning on interrogating you for at least another hour. The sun was setting, and they were hoping that Peter would show up in the dark to try and save you. When they were to realize that he in fact was not showing up, they would barge in and pounce on you. However, Peter not showing up depended on you getting out of the building. You saw that he was nearby in the future where he tried to save you. He was only going to save you if he sensed you needed to be saved. If you could get out of this room, you wouldn’t set off his Spidey-sense, and he would be safe, you would both be safe.

Once the ropes fell to the ground, you were able to cut your torso free and stand to run to the corner that held a vent big enough to crawl through. Cutting off the long sleeve of your shirt at the shoulder, you made a sloppy sling for your dislocated left arm. Crawling wouldn’t be a cake walk with only one arm, but you had to make do. You quickly screwed open the gate with your knife and silently pushed it to the ground and begun to crawl on your hand and knees through the ventilation system. You looked forward in time to see where this would lead you and how quickly. The sun was setting faster than normal it felt, as the dark approached, so did a twisted fate if you couldn’t get out fast. You had lucked out this time, and you actually couldn’t believe what you were seeing. About 10 feet ahead of you, the vent led out to the back of the building. They were keeping you in a room used to store things at cool temperatures and the air vent was used to release hot air in the summer and suck in cold air in the winter. You began crawling as fast as you could muster without making too much sound.

When at the end, you looked with your mind to see if danger lurked in the shadows outside the vent, but no one was near. The vent led to the back of the building where there were no other doors or windows, no way for Peter to get in and find you. Or so they thought. You slipped your hand through the slits in the grate to work at the screws on the outside. You could feel the cold rusty metal slicing your hand open, but you could care less right now as turning back would result in a lot worse than a few infected cuts. After about 5 minutes of awkwardly poking, prodding and twisting at the screws, you were able to kick open the grate. You slid outside and stood up, quickly making your way to the tree line. Peter was nearby, you saw his location before, but it was hard to distinguish it in the vast forest surrounding the building.

Looking around, seeing there was no one in sight you quickly let out a whisper of his name, “Peter.” You hoped it would be enough to catch his attention if he was within his hearing range. You waited a moment but saw nothing. You moved forward a few feet, hoping he was maybe just farther into the forest, “Peter.” You repeated. This time you saw something, not in real time, but seconds before it happened. Him whipping his head around, hearing your footsteps, your breathing, your heartbeat, the soft whisper of his name leaving your mouth. Him swinging tree to tree to get to you as quickly and as quietly as he could manage. As if he was delayed compared to the image in your mind, he landed softly next to you moments after you saw him do it in your mind.

“You’re okay.” He whispered, pulling you into a hug, trying to mind your slung arm.

“For now. But we’ve got to go. There is still a 50/50 chance they’re going to catch us when they realize in about 2 minutes that I’ve escaped.

“Well then you better hold on tight.” He lifted you up with ease and rested you on his hip, making you look like an awkwardly large toddler in his arms. He kept one arm around you as you wrapped your legs and good arm around him. He was off in seconds, swinging the two of you from tree to tree and once out of the forest, building to building.

Once you were at a safe enough distance, Peter stopped on an apartment rooftop and took the two of you under the cover of a tarp covering up empty wooden crates from any bad weather.

“We need to get you back to the compound. Have Bruce heal you up.” He said gingerly touching your shoulder.

“We can’t go back, you know that. We haven’t gotten word from anyone yet that the coast is clear, and it’s obvious that you’re still on plenty of people’s hit list. I can fix it, just give me a second.” You looked around the roof to see if there was anything you could jam your arm into to try and pop it back into place. Behind where you were hiding was a door leading down into the apartments. You stood up and headed over to it. Peter followed you, watching and listening to the surroundings for anything suspicious. You pulled the sling off your neck slowly and balled it up. You stuffed it in your mouth, causing Peter to give you a confused look,

“What are you doing?”

You answered him by slamming your arm into the wall, popping it back into place, letting out a now muffled scream into your shirt sleeve. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away with the cloth you pulled out of your mouth. You took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm yourself.

“There. All better.” You opened your eyes and gave Peter a weak smile as he stood, mouth open and face pale.

“Holy shit.” He whispered.

“Close your mouth honey, you’ll catch flies.” You push his bottom jaw up and head over to the edge of the rooftop. You looked down to see there was a fire escape a few feet below you. Looking ahead of your time, you saw the possibilities of entering each window attached to the escape. Only one of them would lead you to an empty apartment. The owners gone for the whole week. They will have a first aid kit waiting for you to tend to your hand with.

“Peter, can you lower us down to that escape?” You called over to him softly. He joined you at the ledge and nodded when he saw what you were referring to. You held onto his side again as he climbed with his sticky hands and feet down the wall and onto the escape. You grabbed his hand and led him down to the window of the currently empty apartment. You carefully slid the window open and snuck in, Peter silently following behind you.

“The owners won’t be back for a week. As long as we leave the place as we found it, they won’t be any the wiser that we were here.” You whispered to him as he shut the window. “I’m going to go find their first aid kit and get some antibiotics on my hand” You held out your gashed up hand to show him and you saw him wince at the sight of it. He was surprisingly sensitive to seeing your injuries. You figured at this point all of the Avengers were desensitized to stuff like this.

It was just months ago you all were fighting off the mad titan Thanos, you expected nothing to shock anyone at this point. It was strange getting blipped away. One second you were standing next to Dr. Strange watching him give over the time stone, the next you simply weren’t there. You couldn’t see it coming. This was the only thing you couldn’t see coming, because it was too random. You had too high of a chance of not getting blipped, just as you had too high of a chance of getting blipped, so you couldn’t have known. It was horrifying and the bases for most of your nightmares nowadays. You and Peter were the same age, which is why you think Dr. Strange took pity on you regardless of you being a Hydra spy. They had taken you against your will and forced you to serve them. Kids tended to be the best type of spy because it was harder to be suspicious of them. But because you were the same age, when you both came back, the two of you had sort of relied on each other to help one another adjust to the new lives you had to accept. The world had moved on without the two of you, while the two of you were stuck in the same spot for years. It was nice having someone who understood, especially someone your age. That’s why you were okay with risking your own life to help Peter run away. Because that’s what the two of you have silently agreed to do for months now. Protect each other, have each other’s backs, help each other through the nightmares, through the adjustments, through the pain.

Opening the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, you saw the tube of antibiotic cream. You grabbed in and closed the small door, jumping when you saw Peter standing in the mirror behind you.

“I thought you would’ve seen me coming.” he chuckled.

“I was distracted. Thinking about…” You trailed off, suddenly becoming more interesting in washing your hands to prep them for the medicine.

“The blip?” He finished for you. You didn’t even have to answer, you silence spoke for you.

“If it never happened, I wonder if we would be here right now.” You couldn’t help but grasp at lost futures that you couldn’t see.

“Maybe. I mean, Mysterio is the real reason we’re here and I feel like he would’ve come around eventually.”

“But I wouldn’t be here.” You pointed out.

“Do you regret coming with me then?” Peter asked, looking away from you now, hurt evident on his face. “Because you can leave for the compound at any time, I won’t stop you if it’s what you want.”

“No.” The word came out without hesitation, and it caused Peter to snap his attention back to you in the mirror where you finally met his eyes. “I just mean that we probably wouldn’t have gotten as close as we had. I mean yeah, we’d both be Avengers and would know each other, but I would’ve stayed locked away in the compound, and you would’ve barely given me a second thought. I wouldn’t be here because you wouldn’t have trusted me enough to let me come along. I wouldn’t be here because even if you would have trusted me to come with you, I would’ve still gotten kidnapped and I wouldn’t have been able to get out of there without getting caught because you probably wouldn’t have come back for me. I might not have been able to see those futures, but after you watch as much of the future as I have, you start to put the pieces together that one small change would’ve been catastrophic.”

“I like to think that whatever we chose, if it wasn’t a conscious choice or something out of our control, it was fate.” Peter said, “We might not have made the same choices to get us to this exact scenario, if the blip hadn’t happened, but Sam probably would’ve still ordered you by my side, regardless of my hesitation. I probably would’ve not let you get taken in the first place because I wouldn’t have trusted your judgement as much when it came to taking on that guy. We were meant to go through this together and I would’ve stuck by your side same as now.”

You chuckle at the last part about taking on the guy, you wanted to change the subject. The idea of you not getting to where you were friendship wise with Peter was a painful thought. You loved him. It was hard not to. The idea of a timeline where you didn’t love him was hard to even think about.

“I could’ve taken him on if I wanted to.” A smug smirk played on your lips

“Oh, I know you could, that’s why I was so surprised when you just let him take you. Why did you?”

You turned around to face him, “Because I was trying to get him away from you.”

“You could’ve died, you know that, right?” Peter says, taking the medicine from you and applying it to a clean cotton pad from the first aid kit, rubbing it over your hand. The images of you and Peter dead on the ground of that building flash through your mind.

“I know. But so could you have. I’d rather die and give you a head start than for you to die.”

“Why? My life isn’t worth risking yours for.”

“Because if I don’t have you… I have no one.” You admitted.

“Well, that’s not true. You have the whole team.” Peter tried to reassure you.

You shook your head, a sad smile on your mouth as you spoke, “I’m not close to them like I am you. Will you guys be sad? I’d like to think so. Will it greatly alter your lives if I was gone? No. After a couple of weeks, maybe even months, everyone would move on, including you. But if you were to die, I’d have no other friends who could bring me back to caring enough to go on. I have no family. I just have you. I’d rather die myself and know that eventually you’d be able to go on with your life, than let you die knowing that if I had just looked at a different future, I might’ve saved you. Knowing that I’ll never have anyone like you again in my life.”

“If you died, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” Peter said, a stress crease forming between his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t be able to move on because I never got to tell you that I love you.” The last part came out as a whisper as his hands set down the medicine and cotton pad. Bringing them to hold your cheeks.

You hesitantly brought your hands up to ghost over his. You might be able to see the future, but you didn’t see his confession coming. Turning your head slightly to kiss his palm, you whispered on his soft skin, “Then you understand.”

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