#I wish she’d throw ME like a football

[severalratsinatrechcoat]

Can somebody please find me a gif of Amaya throwing bait like a football?

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 (𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁) || eddie munson x preppy!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || when your best friend (who just so happens to also be your ex) steve helps you get together with his new friend eddie, things go a little slower than you expected.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 || almost 12k lol oops

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 || SMUT (18+ only, unprotected sex and oral f receiving), fluff, some pining, very slight angst, somewhat inexperienced eddie, ex-bf!steve but also bff!steve,🍂🍁 fall vibes 🍁🍂, alcohol consumption/mild drunkenness, 'princess' petname

September 1986

“Dude, if you like her, you should just go for it,” Steve insisted.

Eddie chewed the inside of his cheek for a second, staring out at the empty football field before turning to Steve on the bleachers dramatically. “And you’re sure it’s okay? I mean, with you two having gone out—”

“Of course!” Steve shrugged. “She and I have been friends a lot longer than we dated. I mean, that was, what, seven or eight months in sophomore year? It’s been years since then.”

“But you’re still so close,” Eddie noticed.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “and actually— it’s perfect! I can help you ask her out!”

“Wait, you mean like, I have a friend who likes you or something?” Eddie wondered, seeming a little suspicious as he turned his head away slightly.

“No, a little smoother than that,” Steve assured, “like a wingman! Like Top Gun!”

Eddie sighed; he almost wished Steve had never seen that movie, now he wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Actually, she already kinda told me she’s into you,” he grinned, and Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yeah, we were hanging out a few weeks ago and we played that game Fuck Marry Kill?” Steve began, and Eddie nodded. “It was you, John Stamos and Val Kilmer— she said she’d fuck you.”

Eddie gave a sideways frown.

"Dude. Seriously." Steve glared at Eddie's unenthusiastic reaction. "In that line up I was sure she'd kill you. But poor Stamos got the chop instead."

Eddie shrugged.

"Did you miss the part of the story where she said she wants to fuck you?"

But Eddie knew that wasn't what that actually meant. “I guess that’s good, but honestly, I was kind of going for ‘marry’," he admitted.

Steve laughed joyfully as he shoved Eddie’s shoulder. “Didn’t know you were such a romantic!”

“I-I mean, I’ve never had a real girlfriend before,” Eddie replied, “so I hope she wants more than to just, like, fool around. Not that I would say no to that!”

“Of course,” Steve nodded, “totally get you— I’m the same way, you know, tired of all the one-night stands.”

Yeah, except you have an endless supply and I’ve had four, Eddie thought.

“If you want, I could talk to her for you,” Steve suggested, “and get the scoop— see if she’d be interested. That way you know before you go through all the trouble of actually asking her.”

“Okay— but keep it subtle! I don’t want her to know I’ve got a crush unless it’s reciprocated.”

Steve nodded confidently. “You got it, Munson. I can be stealthy. Like a ninja.”

~

You were sitting on the floor throwing Sour Patch Kids, watching Steve open his mouth wide and lean to try to catch them. He got five in a row, before you threw one too much to the side and he had to dive so far that he fell on his side onto the carpet; you both laughed with your mouths full, and he kicked you by sliding his foot out over the carpet. You groaned and kicked him back, until you two were having a shoe war on the rug: his sneakers versus your loafers.

After the fight and giggles died down, a quick silence fell before it was broken. “So,” Steve said suddenly, “it’s time for me to ask my favorite question…”

“Oh god,” you rolled your eyes. “Time for the third degree.”

“Seeing anybody lately?” he grinned.

“I mean… I dunno,” you shrugged. “A few dates here and there, but nobody interesting.”

“Interesting?” he pressed. “You want an interesting guy to go out with, then?”

“What’s with all the sudden interest, Harrington?” you returned with a smirk; you only called him that when you were teasing him.

“I’m always asking about your dates,” he corrected.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re nosy,” you scoffed.

“I just thought maybe we could figure out who you should be going out with."

“Maybe I should be single for a while,” you offered instead— not because you actually thought so, but because you wanted to figure out why he was so insistent on getting you a date.

“No, see, ‘cause this is the perfect time for a new squeeze,” he assured, “you know— fall’s just started, it’s getting chilly out, leaves are turning…”

You sighed dreamily, glancing out his bedroom window at the orange and brown leaves, rustling with the breeze that you just knew was blowing in a cold front from out East.

“Don’t you just wanna cuddle up with somebody this time of year?” Steve hummed, tensing up his shoulders under his soft Lacoste sweater.

“Yeah, alright,” you agreed, “I was thinking I should get a new boyfriend for the fall. I’m guessing based on your general shiftiness that you have someone in mind?”

Steve coughed and looked away. “I mean— I just had a couple ideas.”

“Such as…?”

He thought for a second, biting his lip. “Uh, there’s Joey Shelley?”

You frowned. “He’s cute, I guess, but he’s sorta… dull?”

“Okay, then— Keith Bowen’s fun,” Steve noticed.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed, “but didn’t you go out with his sister for a while?”

“So?” he shrugged.

“Isn’t that, like, incest?” you shuddered.

Steve wrinkled his eyebrows together. “Um… no?”

“Whatever, it’s weird,” you decided. “And I dunno… he’s not really my type.”

“He’s exactly your type!” Steve scoffed. “If not him then that Ryan guy you were checking out at the theater last week.”

“I wasn’t checking him out, I was trying to figure out where he got his jeans,” you explained.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you hummed, hoping to avoid explaining further since the real answer was that you were already planning Steve’s Christmas present.

“You don’t like any of my suggestions,” he noticed.

“It’s not that! I just— all those guys are just like the guys I always go out with,” you clarified with a sigh.

“What kind of guys do you always go out with?” Steve wondered.

“You know— preppy guys! Guys like— well, guys like you, actually,” you snorted. “I mean, you old money boys are fun for a while, but…”

“But you want something new,” he suggested, surprisingly unoffended by your diss on his fellow preps (though it couldn’t be that hard of a critique coming from a preppy girl yourself), “I get it. Wanna mix it up.”

You shrugged. “I mean, maybe I should.”

~

“Did you talk to her?” Eddie asked excitedly as he leaned in closer to Steve, who leaned back— Eddie wasn’t so good with the ‘personal space’ thing sometimes.

“Yeah,” Steve promised.

“Will she go out with me?”

“Woah, slow down,” Steve frowned, “I thought you wanted subtle— was I supposed to ask her out for you?”

“No,” Eddie sighed, “that would’ve made it easier but— no, it’s tacky. But did she say if she would go out with me? If I asked?”

“You didn’t come up,” Steve explained, reacting to Eddie’s disappointed expression by adding: “by name! But I think she’d be into it if you asked her.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, half-frowning. “You think? So, what, she might turn me down and then I look like an idiot?”

“Munson, to be honest,” Steve sighed, “I didn’t think looking like an idiot bothered you that much.”

Eddie gave Steve a look; Steve returned by motioning his head towards Eddie’s Hellfire shirt. Eddie, staring down at his outfit, wore an offended grimace when he met Steve’s gaze again. “Hey!” he yelped sharply. “I made this myself!”

“Exactly,” Steve nodded.

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffed, crossing his arms defensively, “this is different than clothes, anyway. I don’t want her to think that all I want is a date— like, I’m cool just being friends, too. But there’s that thing where, if you ask a girl out, you can’t really be friends after that.”

“Uh, I’m her friend,” Steve reminded Eddie, “and I asked her out.”

“In tenth grade!” Eddie added. “You’re smoother than me, anyways, I don’t even know what to say—”

“Just be honest, man,” Steve instructed, “just… tell her you think she’s pretty and you wanna go to a movie or something.” Steve shrugged, as if that required no effort at all, but Eddie was terrified just imagining saying that to you.

“When?” Eddie asked— his first of many issues with that idea. “I don’t have the excuse of seeing her at school anymore, and when school’s over she’s always hanging out with you.”

Steve smiled excitedly, finally finding a part of this plan he knew he could orchestrate. “We’ll find a way,” he promised cryptically.

~

It was Steve’s idea to go to the record store— he said he wanted the new(ish) Human League album and frankly, you never needed too much of a reason to kill time there. It wasn’t just the music or the respite from the increasing chill outside on your bare legs (maybe the plaid skirt you chose to wear today was a bit out of season, but it was cute), it was the atmosphere itself, it was the smell: old books, new records, paper album sleeves, and whatever rosemary-and-spice candle the owner was burning somewhere.

You flipped through the stacks and scoffed at the cover of The Queen Is Dead. “You should get your own copy of this instead of continuing to indefinitely borrow mine,” you suggested to Steve flatly.

“Is the new Talking Heads album any good?” he asked as he flipped the record around and presented True Stories to you, ignoring what you’d said entirely. Steve Harrington had some of the most impressive selective hearing you’d ever encountered.

Your search wandered out of rock and indie towards pop and synth, where Steve went on a rant you’d heard before about Cyndi Lauper and you pondered trying out Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Someone coming up to you got your attention, and you heard Steve greet him before you actually recognized him: “Munson, funny seeing you here,” he nodded.

Turning and looking up at him, you found a friendly smile under a nose tinted red from the cold wind outside— even if the leather-jacket-and-denim-vest fusion looked like it would keep him pretty warm out there. He had the latest Alice Cooper album tucked under his arm, and the flamboyant cover caught your attention for a moment before you looked at his face again.

“Oh! Hey Eddie,” you greeted joyfully. “Didn’t expect to find you in the pop section…”

You shot Steve a look as he suddenly stepped backwards and walked further away— leaving you and Eddie essentially by yourselves. Eddie was more Steve’s friend than your own, wouldn’t he want to talk with you? But you couldn’t pay that much attention when you were trying to listen to Eddie’s reply: “Oh, I listen to all kinds of stuff, actually.”

“Well, your merch isn’t so diverse,” you noticed, pointing at his shirt; he looked down at it, like he forgot what he was wearing, and smiled.

“Yeah, this is one of my favorites,” he admitted. “The band and the shirt. My uncle got me this one for my birthday last year, actually.”

“Well, it’s cool,” you decided.

“Oh, thanks,” he hummed. “I-I like your necklace. Definitely classier than a worn-out old shirt.”

“Thank you, I—” you began, though you almost lost your breath when he reached up and touched the jewelry gently. “I… got it on a trip, with my parents? To Australia…”

You felt that shivery butterfly feeling as he toyed with the pearls around your neck. Was he flirting? You hoped so. Truth be told, you never really noticed Eddie when you went to school together; well, actually, a guy like Eddie was sort of impossible not to notice, but really you didn’t do anything past noticing him. Metalhead, D&D geek, flunker— you didn’t know much beyond that, though you didn’t take issue with him like most of the other kids in your social group did. A jock flipped his lunch tray on purpose once and you helped him clean it up, but that was the extent of your interaction.

You didn’t really notice that he was cute until Steve re-introduced you a few months back. It started with thinking that he was funny— in much more of a laughing with than a laughing at way for a guy like him— and then being flattered by his chivalry. It was little things, like opening doors and pulling out chairs, but you admired it. Despite a distinctly modern look, Eddie himself was sort of a classic guy, and that charming smile was timeless.

“Australia? That’s so cool,” he said suddenly. “I’ve never even been south of Kansas.”

“It's beautiful," you agreed. “We swam in the Great Barrier Reef.”

“I, uh, watched something on the Discovery channel about that one time,” he mumbled nervously, obviously aware of how much less interesting of a story that was. “I think they said, like, ten thousand different species live there…”

“That sounds about right,” you smiled, “but I didn’t see them all, obviously.”

The conversation stalled and Eddie rocked nervously on his heels; you examined him for a moment, expecting him to break the silence any second, but he never did.

“Since when are you so shy?” you tilted your head. “You’re normally so… boisterous.”

“Well, honestly?” he breathed. “I get really shy when I, uh, when I’m trying to ask somebody out.”

It still took you a second to get what he meant— you were actually about to ask him who he was going to ask out! Then it clicked, and you smiled. “Oh,” you blinked quickly, “you mean me, right? That’s sweet. What did you have in mind?”

“I-I just figured I’d ask if you wanted to go out sometime,” he decided, “with me.”

You giggled. “I meant for the date.”

“O-oh, yeah,” he sighed, blushing slightly; you liked this version of Eddie, even if you’d been crushing on the one that was so loud and crazy. “There’s a drive-in not too far from here, and I’ve got the van… do you like scary movies?”

“No,” you admitted, stepping up closer to drag your finger over his chest, tracing the letters of his Metallica t-shirt, “but maybe when the scary parts come on, you could protect me?”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, watching his eyes dart all over your face wildly. “Y-yeah, of course,” he promised quickly. “Not to brag or anything, but I’ve watched a lot of scary movies and I’ve survived them all. So you’re safe with me.”

“Good,” you hummed, stepping back and holding onto the strap of your bag that crossed over your chest. “So you can pick me up at seven, then?”

His shock turned quickly into glee. “Yeah! I’ll see you then.”

~

“S-sorry, I cleaned up as best I could,” Eddie promised nervously as you hopped into the van’s passenger seat.

“Oh, it’s fine!” you dismissed quickly. “Steve’s car is always a mess— not, like, dirty, but messy for sure. Random clothes everywhere.”

“Is Harrington stripping in his car that often?” Eddie wondered, curling his lips slightly.

You shrugged. “Guess so.”

Shuddering, Eddie started the van and began the familiar route to the drive-in. The sun was already setting, and it would be dark enough for the movie soon.

It was a short, but pleasant, ride; you took the time to catch up with Eddie and get to know him a little better, since you didn’t know a lot about him past the obvious.

“I’ve got everything we’ll need tonight,” he promised, “blankets, pillows— you know, to make the back all cozy— candy, snacks— do you like Sour Patch Kids?”

“Only the yellow ones,” you admitted, and he looked at you like you were crazy— but also, like he was into it. “I know!” you yelped. “Steve says it’s proof I’m a monster.”

“Monster? No, you’re perfect,” he said, so casually, like it didn’t make your heart skip, “and those are the only ones I won’t eat, so… guess we’re a perfect match, too.”

Biting your lip, you looked back at the road ahead— Eddie had just flipped on the headlights— and felt the warm, giddy flush crawling up your face. He was a flirt, that’s for sure, even when he had this nervous energy radiating off of him.

After finding the best available spot to park for the movie, Eddie asked you to wait in the passenger while he set up the back; for a few minutes as he unfolded blankets and arranged everything, you toyed with the pearls around your neck (after he complimented them, you kept them on despite changing most of the rest of your outfit, and he noticed, saying they made you look regal, ‘like a princess or something’) and waited.

“Ta-da!” he announced with an excited flourish of his arms and a wide grin when you were finally allowed to look: the back seats had been folded down, the back hatch doors were swung open, and the whole floor was padded with a pallet of blankets and pillows. And, right in the middle, a nice big stash of movie candy classics; including, of course, Sour Patch Kids. “Comfy, right?”

“Only one way to find out,” you smiled as you climbed in. He even held his hand out for you to lift yourself up with to get in the back, even though you definitely didn’t need it.

Once you were comfortable, he laid back on the blanket with you, letting you lean in close even though the movie hadn’t started yet— you could blame it on the chill in the air, but he’d see right through that.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time, huh?” you noticed as you relaxed on the soft padding beneath you.

“I-I try,” he stammered. “It’s been a while since I’ve— m’kinda out of practice, to be honest…”

“Me too,” you admitted.

“What?” he laughed. “Getting taken out doesn’t take any practice! All you’ve gotta do is sit there and look pretty.”

You batted your eyelashes at him; “How am I doing so far?”

He grinned as he tossed a blue Sour Patch Kid into his mouth. “You’re a natural, princess.”

When the movie finally did start, you were already getting that lovely jittery feeling from being so close to him, wondering if he would touch you: hoping he would, actually. Was he the kind of guy who waited until the end to kiss you? Or was he just waiting until everyone else in the surrounding cars was focused enough on the movie above for none of them to look back and see you making out?

But, you actually watched the movie for about the first act, occasionally whispering something to each other or laughing at a campy moment— and, of course, when you jumped at a scare and leaned in to him, he carefully wrapped an arm around you. Even with a relatively conservative touch, he nervously hesitated for a moment, but you found it endearing.

“Thanks for taking me out,” you whispered to him about halfway through the movie, making him look down at you.

“Y-yeah,” he agreed, looking like he was struggling a bit to focus on conversation with your face so close. “Thanks for, um, agreeing to go out with me. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Actually, I was hoping you’d ask me soon.”

“Really?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think I was your type.”

“You’re not,” you admitted, “that’s the fun part. Something different.”

“This is different for me, too,” he agreed.

“I’m not like the girls you usually take out?” you assumed.

“In the sense that you exist? Yes,” he nodded, making you laugh almost a bit too loud. “Yes, very different.”

“C’mon, you can’t be that hopeless,” you rolled your eyes.

“This whole town thinks I’m a freak, remember?” he smirked. “Even the women— uh, especially the women.”

“Guess I don’t mind it,” you shrugged. “Maybe I’m a freak, too… once you get to know me.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The tension of the moment lingered for a few moments of silence, neither you nor Eddie looking back at the big screen above you, keeping your eyes trained on each other. For a comment as sexually-charged as what you’d said, you didn’t expect him to follow it up with something so… wholesome. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Way too tender, way too sweet for how flirty and heated the conversation that led up to it had become. But it still made your stomach flip, and you nodded, and Eddie carefully cradled your jaw in his hand as he closed the distance and pressed his lips to yours.

It was chaste and patient, at first— gentle movements in time with each other, finding the rhythm, getting familiar with the faint taste of cigarettes under the sweetness of the sour candy you’d shared.

The moment seemed like it could go on forever, like the kiss never needed to end and never needed to progress; the movie played on in the background, but you hardly paid attention, focused instead on the sounds of his breathing picking up, of the blankets shifting beneath you when he moved, of the slightest sigh that fell against your face when you ran a hand up his chest over his shirt.

You opened your mouth wider, tilting your head back, not just allowing but inviting him to kiss you deeper— and he accepted gladly, one hand cradling the back of your head delicately.

His other hand ran down your back, settling at your waist; for a second you thought he might drift even lower and grab your butt. If he did, it would be sort of tacky, but you also wouldn’t mind that much for some reason.

He brushed his fingers over your jaw and tilted his face further, suddenly gaining a little speed and intensity as he tasted you, and you had to resist the urge to moan around his tongue carefully exploring your mouth. Fuck. Heat was already gathering between your legs from a kiss like this. Maybe it was due in part to how long it had been since you’d been taken out properly, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself if he wanted more.

You gasped softly when his hand slid up your leg. He’s gonna do it— he’s gonna reach up under my skirt and touch me. And I’m gonna let him.

It was impulsive and a little irresponsible, the way you were about to let Eddie Munson finger you right here in the drive-in, but it only turned you on more to think about how naughty it was. You actually wanted him to, you were so needy—

But he stopped moving his hand when he reached your upper thigh. Instead of moving in to carefully toy with the edge of your panties and eventually slip inside, he just started rubbing your thigh with his thumb, occasionally squeezing it as he kissed you.

He broke away from your lips, making you worry it was over, but then he dipped under your face and kissed under your ear. “Oh,” you gasped softly, and you felt him smile— cocky bastard.

Your hips rocked forward a bit, but he didn’t seem to notice: you barely noticed it, since it wasn’t exactly voluntary. Your fingers clutched his shirt, tightening even more when he bit your earlobe lightly just beside the pearl studs.

He was kissing a line down your neck when you shivered briefly. “Are you cold?” he asked.

You didn’t know how to say I was just trying not to rub my pussy on your thigh, sorry, so you simply mumbled, “kinda.”

“Do you want to get under a blanket?” he offered, and that sounded like a great idea and you nodded quickly. He nabbed another folded lump of fabric from behind the driver’s seat, laying it out over the top of you, and you cuddled up closer to him as the weight draped you both. “Do you wanna, uh, kiss some more?”

You giggled a little as you nodded again, reaching up to hold the back of his neck as he kissed you— harder, faster, deeper, getting right to the good stuff. You had to really fight the urge to lift your leg and rest it on his waist, it would feel so good and so… natural, but it would also be, you know, a little slutty. But that was becoming less and less of a concern for you as your need grew stronger and stronger. “Eddie,” you let yourself sigh against his lips, and he tightened his grip on your waist to pull you closer.

“What’s that, princess?” he whispered, egging you on, and you smiled.

“Eddie,” you said again, hearing him growl briefly in pride. He must’ve known that a kiss had never done you in quite like this, never tempted you to do things you didn’t like to do on the first date let alone in a car… in public!

You were so desperate, you could just picture it: him rolling you onto your back, settling himself between your legs and forcing them to part with the width of his hips. Kissing you harder, rutting against you, letting you feel how hard he’d become from holding you. But as much as you tried to encourage him to go a little further— tangling your fingers into his hair, moaning ever-so-softly into the kiss, arching your back (okay, that part wasn’t intentional, but you couldn’t help it)— he never bit the bait. He did literally bite you a few times, once gently on your swollen bottom lip and then twice on your neck later on, but that was as far as he went that night. When the movie ended he watched you climb back up in the front seat and drove you home— he even had the audacity to ask what your favorite part was even though he knew damn well you hadn’t been watching it.

“I liked the part where you licked my ear,” you answered, pretending to be so full of confidence, even though your heart was starting to race again as his own cheeks tinted pink.

“Y-yeah? Good to know,” he nodded as he steered the van around a corner.

There was a longer pause in the conversation as you waited for him to bring up your next date. You made it a whole twenty seconds. “Are you gonna ask me out on another date?” you finally blurted out.

“Now?” he wondered.

“I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to do, I think,” you shrugged. “I guess you could call me tomorrow morning instead, but, you could always get it over with now.”

“You know how this works a little better than I do,” he laughed. “If you’re so eager why don’t you ask me out?”

Your face got warm as he (accurately) called you out for your impatience. “I thought it was supposed to be the other way around,” you mumbled.

“I thought you were a feminist,” he retorted proudly, grinning at you.

“Okay,” you relented, unable to fight down a smile in response to his, “Steve’s throwing a party next weekend. Come with me.”

“I can do that,” he decided with a nod, “as long as I don’t have to dress up like a trust fund kid.”

You snorted. “Definitely not. I like the idea of you sticking out like a sore thumb, actually.”

“Happy to,” he grinned. “When should I pick you up?”

“I have to help Steve set the whole thing up, actually,” you replied, “so I’ll already be there— but show up at eight and I’ll have a drink ready for you.”

~

He got there at seven fifty-seven. He wasn’t usually so punctual, but the promise of seeing you again was a strong motivator.

You knew he’d arrived when Steve called your name from the foyer, loud enough for you to hear where you were scooping ice into cups in the kitchen. “Your boyfriend’s here!” Steve added, making your face flush— the other guests definitely heard that.

“Steve,” you whined as you dashed past him to the open door, seeing Eddie beaming at you from the welcome mat. “H-he’s not my boyfriend…”

“I’m not?” Eddie grinned with an inquisitive eyebrow as he stepped inside, kissing you on the cheek politely while Steve shut the door.

“You wanna be?” you realized.

“Duh,” Eddie laughed.

“When we’re only on our second date?”

“Princess, I wanted to be your boyfriend before we even went on one,” he replied, and your heart fluttered.

Smiling proudly, you pulled Eddie into a kiss, as Steve kept leaning on the door with one hand and resting the other on his hips; a proud grin was on his face. “I’ll be awaiting my Wingman Of The Year Award in the mail any day now,” he announced, making you break away and look at him suspiciously.

“Wingman?” you repeated.

“Y-yeah, uh,” Eddie choked, moving his hands to your waist carefully, “Steve sorta… helped me out, when I didn’t know how to ask you— it’s not important now.”

“Yeah it is,” Steve corrected, a little offended, “I just got her to make you her boyfriend— you’re welcome.”

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” you warned Eddie playfully. “Once Steve starts meddling, he can’t stop.”

“Whatever,” Steve rolled his eyes, taking his hand off the door and starting to walk backwards towards the rest of the party. “If you’ll excuse me, there are some more star-crossed lovers in need of Cupid’s assistance, so…”

He mimed the shooting of a tiny bow and arrow before he disappeared, making you and Eddie laugh. “He’s already a little tipsy, apparently,” you noticed, but Eddie’s mind had already forgotten Steve entirely as he stared at you.

“You look amazing, by the way,” he informed you, drinking in the sight of your tight dress.

“I thought we might match if I wore something black,” you explained with a grin, “I was right.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Eddie cooed, “you wanna match with your boyfriend…”

He put extra emphasis on the last word by kissing your neck gently, and you laughed as you held onto him tighter. “You really talked to Steve about asking me out?” you remembered, and you felt Eddie nod against your neck. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me— he’s not much of a secret-keeper.”

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” he worried for a moment, pulling back.

“Of course not!” you promised. “It’s sweet… really sweet, actually, imagining you telling Steve how you’re, like, totally obsessed with me—”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that—” Eddie began to deny.

“Shh!” you stopped him quickly. “I’m imagining it, I can imagine it however I want.”

Eddie laughed. “Fair enough. Now where’s that drink I was promised?”

~

Over the course of the next two hours and five drinks, you and Eddie mingled with the rest of that upper crust crowd you were used to hanging with— and, yes, they were all somewhere between confused and irritated that Eddie was here. He’s with me, you kept saying, like his arm around you wasn’t obvious enough.

He even danced with you to some music you knew he didn’t actively enjoy, but that was partly the alcohol and not just his acquiescence.

As the night seemed to get louder and rowdier, you kept trying to find somewhere that you and Eddie could be, if not alone, a little less crowded. You went outside first, but it was chilly even with his arms holding you close. All the many bedrooms of the house were, uh, occupied by this point in the evening… and so, with a devilish grin, you grabbed him by the wrist and guided him to the upstairs guest bathroom— tugging him into it and shutting the door behind you.

Before he could ask why you were in the bathroom together, you stood up on your toes to get closer to him. “I’ve been thinking about you,” you whispered in his ear.

“Yeah?” he breathed, smiling. “What were you thinking about?”

“Our date,” you remembered, “how you kissed me in your van. There were all those people around… but now we’re alone…”

“O-oh,” he choked, “yeah, we are…”

“Can you kiss me like that again?” you pleaded coyly, and he gave you a slightly dumbstruck look as he nodded.

“I can try,” he whispered, pulling you into him for a kiss that made your knees falter for a half-second— though that was partly the liquor, too.

It heated up quickly, his body pressing yours back against the sink, your moans slipping in between the movements of his lips and tongue. You hopped back and sat yourself on the counter, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinning when you felt him shiver.

“Y-you’re so sexy,” he mumbled against your skin, kissing his way to your neck, making your back arch even more. When you tightened your legs around him, it forced him to press against where your dress had ridden up— and you could feel how hard he was, through his jeans and right on your dampening panties.

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed, desperate for him to rock against you, drunk on the way it felt to make his cock all stiff and throbbing like that. And also just a little bit actually-drunk, but that was only part of it.

He kept his focus on your neck, though he pulled your dress’ single strap out of the way to kiss your shoulder, too, and his fingers on your bare skin felt fucking electric; you wanted to just fall back and lay your head against the mirror, let him do whatever he wanted to you, but you hugged him tighter instead and carded your fingers through his curly hair.

“Need you so bad,” you admitted in a hushed moan by his ear, making him grunt and hold onto your hips tightly.

“You— fuck, you know we can’t go all the way in Harrington’s bathroom, right?” he whispered harshly, pulling away from your neck to look at you with dilated eyes and bitten lips.

“Why not?” you shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve done it in here anyways…”

His eyes went wide before he cleared his throat. “I— I think we should save it for someplace a little more special, don’t you?”

You smirked at him. “Okay,” you agreed, “but we can still mess around, right?”

He grinned mischievously as he answered, “Yeah.”

“Good,” you beamed, hopping up off the counter and spinning him around suddenly to pin him back against it, “cause I wanna blow you.”

“Blow—! Blow me?!” he blurted out. “Oh, I—”

You started to drop down on your knees, but you felt his hands hold tightly onto your arms to keep you up; and you tilted your head as you looked up at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded quickly, “it’s just— I don’t want you to think you have to do that.”

“Oh, Eddie— I don’t think I have to,” you assured, “b-but if you want me to, I’d like to…”

He surprised you by pulling you into another kiss— not rough, but definitely a little hard as he pressed his lips to yours. Never one to question a kiss, you submitted to it and slipped your arms around his shoulders. It went on for a while, almost too long, and you started to wonder if he was ever going to let you get back on your knees for him; why was he stalling?

When he broke away, he pulled you into a tight hug. “Is everything okay?” you finally asked him.

“I don’t wanna take things too fast,” he whispered, and your heart swelled. Oh my god, I’ve found the world’s best man, you thought, knowing how rare it was for a guy to think with the head on his shoulders.

You pulled back and smiled up at him. “That’s sweet,” you decided, and he smiled back at you as he brushed his hand over your hair to softly pet your head.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “We’ve got something special, I think— and the last thing I wanna do is mess it all up by rushing this.”

You leaned forward to kiss him quickly, and he smiled against you before you pulled back. “You’re so wonderful,” you hummed at him, feeling your chest warm even more as you realized you finally found a guy who liked you for you, and not just what you could do for him.

“I’m wonderful?” Eddie repeated incredulously. “Every guy out there wishes he’d been the one that brought you here tonight, you know— and none of them can believe it’s me instead. You do realize that?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a shy giggle, taking his hand quickly. “Let’s go back out there so you can rub it in a little more, okay?”

“Okay,” he laughed as he followed you back into the hallway and through the crowd, shutting the guest bathroom’s door behind you.

You tried not to bring it up again after that, not to initiate anymore— because the way you’d left things it felt like Eddie would let you know when the time was right. Him being such a gentleman wasn’t what you’d expected— not that you thought he’d be rude and pushy or anything— but it was a pleasant surprise. Even better was imagining how wild he’d be once he finally caved and just couldn’t wait to have you any longer.

~

October 1986

“So, what did you wanna talk about?” Steve finally prompted as you walked side by side on the trail, leaves in every warm-toned shade decorated the earth around you. He knew you were going to keep stalling, even though you’d called him and asked if you could walk to the coffee shop together and ‘talk about something important’, unless he brought it up first. You sighed— you’d wanted to stall just a bit longer, but maybe you might as well get it over with.

“Well, I feel kinda weird talking to you about this…” you trailed off.

“Me? You tell me everything,” Steve explained.

“But Eddie’s your friend,” you sighed, and Steve stopped walking— so you did, too.

“Wait,” Steve got stern quickly, “is everything okay? He’s not hurting you is he? Do you think he’s cheating? ‘Cause I—”

“Nonono,” you interrupted quickly, “it’s fine— he’s great. He’s… amazing.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, “you just let me know if he’s doing anything messed up to you, okay?”

“That’s the thing,” you frowned, crossing your arms tightly, “it’s more of what he’s not doing to me…”

“Huh?”

“Well, we’ve been going out a while now,” you began, “and I guess I thought— well, usually, by this point— you know I’m not a slut!”

He blinked rapidly at the sudden change in topic. “W-well, yeah! What’s that got to do with it?”

“I don’t like to put out on the first date,” you explained, “not even the second or third— I like to take things a little slower, it pisses some guys off but it pisses off the right guys so they can dump me if that’s all they want.”

“Right,” Steve agreed. “I should try that…”

“Yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes, knowing Steve wasn’t going to be able to keep up with a no-sex-on-the-first-date rule for long. “Anyways, my point is, with Eddie… I was actually gonna go all the way with him on our first date."

"Woah!" Steve laughed, but he raised his hands up when you glared at him. "No judgment! Seems like it worked out, anyways."

"N-no, I was going to, but then we didn't."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Then at your party…"

"Oh god," he shuddered, "just tell me you didn't use any of my mom's nice hand towels…"

"No! Steve, we didn't do it there," you groaned, "he actually told me that he wants to take things slow."

"Oh," Steve relaxed, "cool— I guess he's pretty serious about you."

You nodded, remembering when you thought of it the same way, but that logic was less comforting now.

"So, how long did he wait before you…?"

You looked at Steve, eventually raising your eyebrows to try to signal him wordlessly, but it took him a couple seconds to put it together. "Oh, shit!" he yelped. "You haven't, still?!"

"He must think I'm hideous," you assumed immediately, hiding your face in your hands.

"I'm sure it's not that," Steve tried to assure you.

"What would it take for you to not sleep with your girlfriend after a month and a half?" you pressed.

"Uh…" Steve stalled, biting his lip.

You crossed your arms, waiting impatiently. "Let me guess: an apocalyptic event of Biblical proportions?"

"Yeah, something like that," he admitted.

"See! He's not into me at all," you whimpered.

"No way," Steve insisted, "he was crushing on you hard way before he asked you out. He told me! He only waited as long as he did 'cause he thought I'd have a problem with it, for whatever reason."

"So what changed?"

Steve pondered that. "Uh," he realized suddenly, "you don't think he's got, uh…"

Steve whistled as he held up his pinky finger, and you choked on your own throat. "We've done stuff, you know," you informed him, "and from what I can tell, that's… not the issue. At all."

"Okay, okay," Steve waved his hands, “spare me the gory details.”

“I don’t have gory details, I haven’t even seen it,” you whined.

“But it feels normal?” he prompted.

You shrugged. “Through jeans.”

“Huh,” Steve considered, “maybe he’s worried about how it looks, then. Maybe it’s all… weird-looking.”

You grimaced. “I mean, maybe…”

“Maybe it’s like, a zombie dick!” Steve exclaimed.

“You’ve been watching too many scary movies,” you rolled your eyes— this is what happens when you watch horror movies every day in anticipation of Halloween, apparently.

“Or maybe it’s an alien that controls his mind!” Steve continued regardless.

“Pretty sure all guys’ minds are controlled by their dicks, Steve,” you sighed. Except my boyfriend, the metalhead prude.

~

You and Eddie had been watching horror movies to get in the spooky spirit as well… you just hadn’t been watching them as effectively.

“Eddie,” you giggled as he kissed up your neck, tickling you with the tip of his tongue. He traced the shape of your ear and you groaned, pushing on his shoulders slightly as your back arched.

“I thought you liked that,” he teased.

“I-I do,” you admitted.

“Then say it,” he prompted; your thighs clenched.

“I… I like that,” you whimpered, “fuck, Eddie, s’good…”

He hummed proudly and latched his teeth onto your neck again, pressing his chest up against yours. It reminded you how hard your nipples had become, and you found yourself reaching to find one of Eddie’s hands on your lower back, guiding it up up up until he was grabbing at you through your shirt. “Fuck,” he grunted by your ear, “wanted me to feel your tits, coulda just asked, princess.”

He was definitely an auditory kind of person, liked to hear you say it all: feels good, right there, touch me, kiss me— only thing he didn’t like to hear was do we have to stop now?

Because it always stopped too soon for your tastes; you’d been camping out at second base for ages, and not that you didn’t love the way Eddie’s fingers teased your little buds at the same time that his thick hands groped your whole chest appreciatively— not that you didn’t love the way he swore you were perfect, voice low and rough as he showered you in compliments and oh-so-politely asked permission to put his mouth on them. But god, if that was the way he teased you here, you could only imagine how it would feel on your clit, those expert fingers rubbing you as he watched your face fall into ecstasy, as he told you he would put a few inside to warm you up for his cock…

Literally, you could only imagine it. It was driving you actually fucking crazy.

He hummed as he pushed your shirt up, latching onto your nipple the second one was exposed to him, and you cried out loudly— probably loud enough for one of the neighboring trailers to hear, honestly. Not that you had the energy to care about that now.

“So sensitive,” he mocked lightly, flicking the bud over and over with the end of his tongue for a second. “Are they always like this?”

No, only when you’ve been edging me for seven weeks. “J-just for you,” you stammered out, and he hummed quickly before moving on to the other, tilting his head— he looked damn good like that, eyes shut with his lashes resting on his cheeks, mouth open just enough to fit your nipple inside, full lips suckling at you. “You’re pretty,” you blurted out, and he blinked those big eyes open to smile up at you.

“Me?” he chuckled. “Nah, no way.”

“Yeah you are,” you insisted with a laugh, sitting up slightly. “You’re hot, actually.”

You reached for his shoulders and guided him back, until he was sitting properly on the couch again (which he hadn’t been since ten minutes into the movie when he descended on you) and you were the one leaning over him. “Oh,” he gasped a bit when you straddled his lap; the energy changed a bit.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly.

“U-uh, yeah,” he nodded, and you smiled as you rested your hands on his shoulders before you kissed him again. It was a little different this time, it felt less like fooling around and more like… something important. His hands didn’t stay glued to your chest this time, they wandered carefully to your exposed back, holding you delicately like you were breakable; his kiss was delicate, too, everything felt more patient. You thought it couldn’t get any better than that heat-of-the-moment feeling, that playful energy you had before, but the sensuality of this was newer and even more addictive.

You sighed as you moved in his lap— not of your own accord, just your body surrendering to instinct. Your hips sought any friction they could find and your hands searched his chest for a good place to latch on to; they ended up sliding over his neck and into his hair, which made him softly moan as you tugged on the messy locks.

“Princess,” he choked, “fuck— you’re so… fuck.”

You rocked your hips a little slower, but pressed down harder into his lap, and both of you groaned as you rubbed right on the firm bulge under his fly. “Eddie,” you whimpered, feeling his fingers tighten at your waist, “I— I want you…”

Your heart sank as he gasped and pushed you back. “M-maybe we should slow down a bit,” he decided suddenly. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you stared down, sitting on his knees.

“Um… okay…” you mumbled quietly. You hadn’t really tried to get things going since Steve’s party, but you didn’t really suspect that if you did, you’d be outright rejected. It wasn’t something you were used to in a time like this. “Do you… still wanna kiss?”

“Yeah!” he said quickly. “I just… I don’t wanna take things too fast.”

That excuse was cute a month ago. Your shoulders slumped defeatedly and you pulled your shirt down again— but you still felt uncomfortably exposed, somehow, and you wrapped your arms around yourself to try to distract from the empty feeling inside.

“Oh god, princessl, what’s wrong?” he cooed quietly. “I-I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know… but can you tell me what’s going on?” you pleaded. “Is it me? You are attracted to me, right?”

“What?! Of course I am,” he shook his head, bewildered by your insecurity. As if that was something you should’ve figured out by, what, clairvoyance?

“I’m just not sure what to think,” you mumbled. “I wanna go further— and I don’t wanna, you know, force you or pressure you or anything, but to be totally honest… I’ve never had to talk a guy into sex before. And I can’t help but wonder if there’s something wrong.”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he promised, “at least not with you. I do wanna, you know, take the next step with you. It’s been driving me crazy to keep stopping you when you offer… all that stuff…”

“So why turn me down?” you pouted. “If we both want it, what else is there to worry about?”

He sighed slightly as he glanced away.

“C’mon, Eddie, is something going on?” you pleaded. “Just talk to me. Whatever it is, I wanna know.”

“Well, yeah,” he relented, “it’s… it’s me, it’s this thought I have every time I try to take things past just making out.”

You waited patiently for his explanation, wringing your hands nervously.

“You and Steve went out for… a while,” he recalled. “And, you know, he’s— got a reputation. A very good one.”

“Oh,” you sighed.

“And he’s, uh… been with a lot of girls,” Eddie continued nervously. “I-I’m not a virgin or anything, but I’ve never actually had a girlfriend before, so…”

“So?” you encouraged.

“I guess I just… I’m worried that I won’t be as good as him,” he finally admitted. “Actually, I’m about ninety-five percent confident I won’t be as good as him— and if I’m not, maybe you… won’t wanna go out anymore.”

“Eddie,” you sighed, equal parts relieved and heartbroken and bewildered. You reached up and held his face in both your hands, making him look at you. “I wanna be with you. Not Steve, or anybody else.”

“And when you say be with…” he trailed off.

“I mean that in every sense,” you clarified. “I like going out with you, I love being your girlfriend. And I want us to do what boyfriends and girlfriends do— I want us to, you know… touch each other, and pleasure each other…”

You lowered your voice, moving in a little closer on his lap, and his gaze seemed to get a little heavier.

“Feel each other,” you continued, “and explore, you know? ‘Cause yeah, it will be different than it was with Steve. But Steve and I had to get to know each other before it was really great. I think once we get a chance to practice, we’ll be even better.”

“Practice?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you grinned, “that’s the fun part.”

Eddie blinked at you quickly. “I— I guess it’s different when you’re dating, huh? Because I’ve never had a chance to, uh, improve for next time. I’ve never had a next time before.”

You smiled. “Well, if things go my way,” you explained, leaning in closer beside his face, “there’s gonna be a next time—” you kissed his cheek, “and a next time—” you moved around and kissed the other— “and a next time…”

He shuddered when you placed a quick peck on his jaw. “Okay,” he breathed, “I like the sound of that. But… I want our first time to be… you know, really amazing and stuff.”

You laughed. “After all this damn anticipation, I’m sure it will be. You drove me crazy making me wait so long, Eddie.”

He coughed; “S-sorry,” he offered, “I wasn’t trying to, I swear. And it drove me crazy, too. I honestly wanted to make it with you right then and there in my van at the drive-in on our very first date— but I figured I’d get slapped if I tried that.”

You bit your lip as you leaned in a little closer. “Eddie, I would’ve let you,” you whispered. “I was so hot for you, I wanted you so bad…”

He swallowed as he blinked up at you. “I-I didn’t think you were that kind of girl,” he admitted, and you giggled.

“I’m not,” you promised, “I just couldn’t help it when you kissed me like that. I was totally yours, Eddie, from the first kiss.”

His fingers squeezed your hips and you purred. “God, that’s— you’re so perfect,” he sighed. “I-I was honestly afraid I would bust in my jeans that night,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “and then at Harrington’s party, when you said you wanted to…? I was toast.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know, that offer still stands if you want me to—”

“Oh, fuck no,” he laughed, “I’m already gonna be fighting to last once I get inside you, don’t need you getting me all worked up with that pretty mouth you’ve got.”

His finger traced your lips and you opened them to suckle on the end of it; his lip twitched and you felt his hips rock up against you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, “let’s go to bed, angel, I think we’ve waited long e-fucking-nough.”

Of course, ‘let’s go to bed’ makes it sound more cooperative— really he all but carried and dragged you across the trailer to his bed, tossing you onto it and peeling his shirt off in a second before he descended onto you. Giggling, you held the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss you sweetly.

Your shirt didn’t last long, either, but he was more interested in getting your skirt and stockings off; and thank god for that, because you didn’t need any more foreplay after getting teased for the past… sixteen, maybe seventeen dates? You lost count a while ago.

He propped himself up on one arm above you, looking down with his bottom lip between his teeth as he saw your panties. You bit your lip, too, at the sight of his expression— of his eyes darkening a bit and his chest filling with a deep breath.

“Oh, princess,” he cooed, making you shiver joyfully. “Look at these…”

His fingers traced the lacy edge of your underwear, toying quickly with the little bow at the front. “That tickles,” you mumbled, and he met your gaze again with a grin.

“These all for me?” he assumed, and you nodded. “Wanted to get all dressed up for me, in case I finally took you to bed?”

“Something like that,” you admitted. You hadn’t worn nice panties to every date, as your hope for more than back-of-the-bus level touching faded, but thankfully something told you to wear them to this one. That ‘something’ being Steve.

“They’re cute,” he decided, “all… girly, and delicate, like you.” He lifted your legs slightly, and his playful attitude shifted to something a bit more intense. “And they’re— fuck, baby— they’re soaked.”

You wiggled your hips, slightly self-conscious about him staring at the wet patch on your blush lace. “Th-that’s just what you do to me,” you replied, just before he shut you up with another bruising kiss, pressing his body down on yours. Even just his bare chest against your own was soothing and warm.

He rocked his hips against yours, pressing the bulge under his fly right up to that wet spot on your panties; you could feel the ridge of his head, the way his cock throbbed, even his balls pressing up to your ass through the denim. “That,” he whispered into your lips, “is what you do to me.”

“Fuck,” you whined, “I wanna— lemme feel you, Eddie, please, I w-wanna… wanna touch you there.”

“Where?” he prompted teasingly.

“Your cock,” you groaned, and he sat up to start working on his belt.

“Coulda just said so,” he insisted with a wink, admiring the way you looked all wide-eyed and needy as you watched him open his jeans.

If only it had been that easy; but you were sure the wait would be worth it, especially when you saw the thick outline of his cock through the checkered boxers. It looked even bigger than it felt before— actually, you were a little light-headed looking at it all of a sudden.

You were reaching up for the waistband already but he stopped you, grabbing your hands and grinning mischievously as he pinned them at your sides. "Ah ah, not yet," he corrected teasingly, "I wanna see you first. You wrapped your pussy up like a little present for me, don't I get to open it?"

You wouldn't have minded if he opened that present the way he actually opened presents: tearing at the paper ferally. But instead he removed your panties slowly and delicately, like one of those people who unsticks the tape and saves the paper. Except instead of that he was sliding his fingers down your thighs, watching the lace unstick from your damp folds, groaning low in his chest as you were revealed to him.

It wasn't until the panties were past your ankles and tossed aside that you could open your legs— or, more accurately, that he could carefully guide your legs to spread for him— and he stared down with his lip between his teeth at your pussy. You felt a little awkward being examined like that, but it was all worth it for the way his nostrils flared, the way he brought his thumb to the point where your lower lips met and pulled your sex taut for a better look at your swollen button, the way he sighed and tilted his head back for a moment with his eyes shut— like it was too much to look at it for that long, like he needed a break to cope with the perfection before him. "Baby," he all but moaned as he stared down at it again— and then at you, at your shy face waiting for him to say something. "So fuckin' pretty. Shit, gotta be the prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

You bit down on your smile as he laid down over you again, kissing you hungrily. You felt him start to push his own boxers down and you weren't about to let him do it all by himself, so you reached down between your body and his to grab his erection— and you both groaned as you held it.

"Mm," he hummed, kissing your neck for a moment, "your hands are soft…"

But his sweet tone shifted a bit as you wrapped your legs around his hips, making him press forward enough for you to guide his squishy head right over your folds.

"Fuck," he whispered harshly, "y'wanna put it in for me, princess?" He seemed amused by your eagerness, after spending the last month and a half making you this desperate. "Just can't wait anymore, need me too bad?"

You whimpered, but nodded. He pulled his face back from where it had nestled by your neck and looked down at you with a smile. His gaze had softened a bit, something sweet and gentle in his stare. "Need you, Eddie," you agreed before he could even ask you to just say it, princess.

He kissed you again, a little more patiently, and let you move his cock right up to your hole that had been flexing helplessly since this all started. He kept kissing you even as he pushed inside, both of you gasping together at the feeling.

“Oh, Eddie,” you sighed into his mouth fallen slack, holding tightly onto his shoulder blades. “Is that— are you all the way in?”

“Just a little more,” he whispered, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

You shook your head, and he gave you the rest with a gentle thrust into the end of you; you arched your back, but it wasn’t too difficult to take. He was thick enough that maybe it should’ve stung, but after this much anticipation you were beyond prepared.

“Wow,” he panted, right into your slack-open mouth, “you feel like fucking heaven.”

His pace was gentle and slow at first, each of his breaths hot puffs across your face before he had to hug you tighter, hold you closer, bury his face just above your shoulder. Your walls hugged onto him tight, just like your legs wrapped around his hips, and he breathed in the scent of your heated skin by the crook of your neck.

With each stroke you dragged your nails lightly across the back of his neck, tangling your fingers into his mess of curls.

Your cheeks burned when you heard the sound of it, the wet noises that filled the trailer each time Eddie's hips collided with your own.

"Fuck," he sighed right by your ear, "princess— you're so… so fucking wet…"

That much was obvious, but hearing the way it made Eddie practically melt was amazing. His voice broke with each moan beside your ear, every slide against your dripping walls, every plunge into your warmth. He picked up the pace quickly, struggling to hold himself back anymore.

He whined out your name a few times, his clammy hands slipping under your back and keeping you hugged tightly against him. "S-so good," he grunted, "you're so good, princess, feel so good for me— fuck."

Turns out, Eddie was just as talkative during sex as he was at all other times. And thank god for that, because hearing him talk made you shiver all over, even inside. "Eddie," you whimpered, feeling the curve of his cock stroke right on that place inside— at just the same time that his hips were rubbing on your clit from the gyrating motion of his thrusts. "Fuck— right there, right there—"

"Like that?" he noticed. "This how you like it, baby?"

"Yes," you promised. "Yes, yes, yes…"

He kept his motions the same but moved a little faster, skin slapping on yours and your whole body rocking up and down— or maybe it was the mattress under you… or maybe it was the trailer itself. Possibly all of the above.

His mouth was wide open just by your neck, every soft grunt and panted breath falling out for you— and they were getting louder the longer he went on, his grip on your back was tightening. You knew he was close already from all of that plus the way you felt his cock jump inside you, and it turned you on like nothing else.

"Princess," he whined, "you— god, you… fuck."

You giggled a bit at the way he had failed completely to finish whatever sentence he'd started.

"Aw, don't laugh at me," he pouted slightly, though the way he had to talk through his teeth made it sound almost like a threat— and you really liked that. "Can't help it, I can't fucking think straight when I'm inside you— Christ I still can't believe it, you know. That you want me. You could have anybody— fuck— and you feel fucking perfect and— god I dunno how much more of this I can take."

As good as it felt, you weren't quite there yet— you weren't even close, really. It always took you a while to finish, but Eddie clearly didn't have a while: he was already all red in the face and moaning weakly into your neck, fucking you with needy and erratic thrusts. But you didn't even care; it was so sweet, seeing him lose his cool so quickly, you didn't mind if you weren't left quite as satisfied at the end of this. It was worth it to watch him fall apart and know you were the cause.

“Fuck, fuck!” he whined. “Oh— fuck, I don’t wanna come yet, I shouldn’t come yet—”

But you could see it was killing him; his face was tightened up so hard and he couldn’t seem to force himself to slow down. “It’s okay,” you promised, “it’s okay, you can come, Eddie…”

“Oh my god oh my god,” he rushed in a split second, “I-I’m gonna come. Fuck, I can come inside, right?”

You laughed lightly. “Yeah,” you assured.

“Good, ‘cause, I dunno if I can pull out,” he admitted.

In a second he was slamming his hips into yours, desperately chasing release— and your moans got louder and sharper at the feeling.

"Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—!" he whimpered, moving his hands to your hips to keep you as still as possible; and suddenly, he sunk down and deflated with a long sigh, and knowing he was coming inside you made a tingle crawl up your back.

He only took a half second to catch his breath and blink his eyes open before he was looking at you apologetically.

“I’m so sorry,” he panted right away, “you didn’t—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” you promised, “like I said, there’s always next time—”

“No,” he said firmly, surprising you. “This time. You need to come this time, too.”

"W-well, I—" you started, cut off when his thumb found your slick and throbbing nub and stroked it in careful circles. Instantly your hips jumped and your walls seized up, a shaky breath slipping out of your lips. "Oh…"

"S'that better, princess?" he cooed, still breathing heavily— he hadn't even lost his boner yet, and the feeling of your pussy bearing down on him from pleasure was surely helping to keep it alive. "Tell me how it feels."

"Good," you choked, feeling him press harder on it, "fuck, I— I like it when you touch me there…"

"Mhm?" he encouraged. "Like when I rub your clit?"

You sighed; "Yeah, fuck, Eddie— I like it—"

He pulled out suddenly and climbed down, kissing and biting hungrily at your inner thighs before you'd even processed what was happening. It made your hips lift off the bed, the way his teeth teased your sensitive skin, and the pressure of that forced a thick drop of his come out of your cunt.

When he saw it, his eyebrows knitted and his chest sunk— he almost looked heartbroken just from the sight of it.

"God, that's too perfect," he groaned, "I got you so full, princess, you can't even fit it all inside— it's dripping, baby, fuck, that's my come dripping out of you right now…"

He held your thighs and stared right at it, watched that creamy white drop run down the seam of your ass, your little hole flexing right in front of his face— and he couldn't help it, he had to dive in and lick it up.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he latched onto you, hot and hungry mouth tasting every inch of your cunt that his tongue could reach.

"Eddie!" you yelped, shocked but overwhelmingly aroused that he was doing something so… well, filthy. Eating his own come from you after pumping it so deep into you; and he seemed to be just as pleased, shutting his eyes tight and moaning as his plunged his tongue inside you and lapped up the mix of his come and your wetness.

He broke away for just a second, panting, looking up at you with glassy eyes. “We taste so good together,” he said, like he didn’t even notice how sexy that was to say. He went in again to lap at you, taking more time over your clit this go-round— and making your legs shake a little when he did. His eyes darted to the side as he noticed it, a grin breaking out around his extended tongue which he slipped back into his mouth. “Oh… I like when you do that. Think I’ll have to see if I can make you do it again.”

He gave another wide lap of his tongue over your bud, pressing down hard until your legs shook again. He kept his tongue still and nodded his head up and down slightly, and it just happened over and over until your back was arching up off the bed and were clutching at his hair in hopes of mercy. “F-fuck, Eddie, feels really good,” you managed to choke out.

But it was just the beginning, and a second later he wrapped his lips around your bud and suckled at it— almost too hard, but just the right amount of too hard.

“Oh god!” you shouted before you could stop yourself. “Fuck!”

He hummed proudly and kept going, swirling his tongue over the delicate skin as you whimpered and sobbed. It was intense and sharp, hot shocks of pleasure jumping up through your body.

"I'm gonna come!" you shouted— too loud, too whiny, too beautifully pathetic. "Eddie, baby, please—"

You had no idea what you were asking for, but he hummed and nodded without breaking away, and you were sure that whatever it was, he would give it to you.

Both your hands held onto his head and you started to just writhe, there wasn't much else you could do. Paradoxically, as you started to reach the peak, your body fought to get away from the sensation— like it was too much, like you were scared to come this hard. But Eddie held you to your promise to come, fighting to stay latched onto you even as you bucked and almost screamed; and then, once it hit you, it was over in a flash. The white-hot pleasure burned you up in a moment and you had to actually push his head away before it hurt too much.

"Fuck, fuck," you panted, sighing with relief as he let go and grinned up at you with a smile soaked in your cream.

"Did you come?" he asked excitedly, as you collapsed back limply onto the mattress.

"Are you kidding?" you wheezed, and he laughed softly as he climbed back up to lay down next to you, draping an arm over your waist. “I— fuck, Eddie,” you laughed breathlessly, “nobody’s ever made me come that way before.”

“Not even Steve?” he beamed.

“Not even Steve,” you agreed.

"So… that means I'm… better than him?" Eddie prompted hopefully.

"Eddie, it's not about that," you frowned, "it's— you're totally different, it's apples and oranges."

"Okay but, between apples and oranges, which one is better at sex?"

You shoved him on the shoulder but he pulled you into a tight hug, keeping you close even when you wanted to squirm away and leave him alone as punishment for bringing this up.

"Just tell me so I can rub it in Harrington's smug little face tomorrow," Eddie pleaded, and you laughed a bit.

"I'm gonna be too busy rubbing it in your smug little face tomorrow," you warned him with a raised eyebrow, and he grinned excitedly. "I— actually, can I sit on your face sometime? I've always wanted to try that."

"O-okay, yeah, we can do that instead," he nodded eagerly. "Whatever you want, princess."

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 36)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (34)

Masterlist (other parts here)

YFN enjoyed her morning and flight back, still trying to comprehend what was happening. She’d wished she had time to go through Edinburgh itself but had been swamped all morning with emails relating to the expansion of staff. Lumos management were also a lot more vocal with her now that they’d all met and decided she should be directly involved with their meetings and decisions.

Once she’d landed, she’d Ubered to her and Jordan’s house to pick up Miles and give Blu a pat before she drove to the conference room in town. She’d arrived just after midday and was delightfully pleased to see the entire team was already there with canapes just working and bantering away. She greeted them all as she entered and as she walked to her seat, she realised there were a large bunch of flowers sitting in her space. She was a little confused. Was this from Catherine? From the team for the first round? From the hotel the conference room was in? She looked around for an explanation and only received a few grins in response. She gently touched one of her flowers and leant in to smell them before taking the card out of the top.

Hi little one,

Well done on your first round of women’s football!

I’m so proud of you, always, in everything that you do.

I can’t wait to see you soon in Spain.

I love you.

Lucy x

She blushed as her heart fluttered, again finding a few of those grins, yet now they were teasing. She didn’t mind being teased for it. She was proud of her relationship with Lucy. She moved the flowers more central in the table and took her seat, setting up her laptop and notes before sending a quick photo and text to Lucy.

She knew they had a lot to cover and made sure to text Jordan, asking for a heads up when she was headed home. She wanted to be there for her. She put her phone on the table and they began. They spoke about the first round, each team member talking about their experiences and ideas. They spoke about the interviews, the posts, the equipment, all of it. When they were done, YFN made sure they were all comfortable and confident with their roles and then dropped the bombshell. They were expanding. Already. She told them how happy and ambitious management were. They’d expanded from ten including YFN to fifty. This was a shock to everyone of course, however YFN managed to ease them.

“Fifty?!” Ruby almost yelled. “How much money does this company have?!”

“The company has a lot of faith in us…and they were very impressed with the first round.”

“But that’s mainly because your interviews were amazing…” Ethan countered.

“No, we all did amazing work.” Bridget disagreed.

“Fifty sounds like a lot, but it really isn’t,” she assured. “We have six games a week. Fifty is our new number so that we can have three videographers, three photographers, one editor and one interviewer per game. That’s forty-eight people. The extras will be Noel for IT as our posting and editing becomes even more sizeable, and myself.”

They thought this was definitely a lot more reasonable when it was put like that.

“Management are throwing money into us to not only expedite the process of growth, but to make sure we’re training and preparing for the international fixtures as well,” she explained. “We won’t just be doing WSL the entire time. Plus, there are the other leagues in Europe, and the other minor leagues in the UK.”

“But the training…” Emily almost whispered.

YFN nodded, running a hand through her hair a little stressed. “Oh, trust me, I know. We need to be fully prepped and confident for our games so we make the mistakes in practise rather than onsite.”

“Prior planning prevents piss poor performance.” Sam quoted.

“Exactly and I have a plan for that. Now we’re all new here but we’ve all been in the field, we’ve researched and prepped and decided on how to best create a product that suits our brand image. It’s because of this that my plan is to have you all in supervisory roles for the new team coming in. The new hires will arrive next Tuesday which gives us time to prep with them prior to our third round. I’ll put you into game groups and you can work together to prep during the week, with this group supervising each game group and taking a bit more responsibility. Teach them what you’ve learnt. Next week is going to be a long week, but we can do it. I’ll expect progress reports also as I can’t monitor fifty people. If someone is excelling, or not quite up to scratch, I expect to be told so we can sort it out prior to our game. Also…” she looked around the conference room. “…we’ve just acquired an office space in London. I understand that not everyone will live there, and I just want to state that when we’re up and running more comfortably, the people who live further away will be able to zoom our meetings instead if they choose. In the meantime, we’ll continue with our face to face meetings, though don’t neglect yourselves. If it becomes too hard to travel; let me know. We’re going to have enough people to cover each other, it’s okay.”

The rest of the meeting was fairly better as YFN had decided they would only start to worry about the new hires later on. Right now, it was about prepping for the next games.

Their schedule set out for the upcoming week was as such:

Man United vs West Ham (Leigh Sports Village, Manchester): 12th Nov 1200 – YFN and Ruby.

Spurs vs Liverpool (Brisbane Road, London): 12th Nov 1230 – Sam and Olivia.

Everton vs Chelsea (Walton Hall Park, Liverpool): 12th Nov 1300 – Ethan and Daniel.

Man City vs Brighton (Joie Stadium, Manchester): 12th Nov 1300 – Bridget and Emily.

Bristol vs Aston Villa (Ashton Gate Stadium, Bristol): 12th Nov 1400 – Matt and Noel.

Leicester vs Arsenal (King Power Stadium, Leicester): 12th Nov 1845 – YFN and Ruby (relocate from United vs West Ham); Matt (relocate from Bristol vs Aston Villa in Bristol est arrival: 1900).

The scheduling was tight because all of the games were on the same day, and she needed to be carefully logistically to make sure she didn’t have people driving out of their way unnecessarily. Luckily, Matt lived in Birmingham and would be able to get to the Leicester vs Arsenal game for YFN to get some good interviews of the players, one she was hoping would be Kyra and Courtney.

Before she knew it, the clock had ticked over to 5pm and Jordan had messaged.

Dory: Training just finished. I’ll be home in 20.

YFN: I’m coming. I’ll get take-away for us. What would you like, Dory?

Dory: Anything I’m not supposed to eat.

YFN: You’re amazing. See you at home soon, roomie x

YFN walked through the front door, pizza in one hand and flowers tucked under the other arm, her work bag slung over her shoulder. Regardless of this, Jordan was on her from the moment she opened the door, wrapping arms around YFN’s waist. After a cute little hug, YFN spoke when she felt Jordan getting emotional.

“Okay, firstly, I love you. Secondly, we’re eating before we talk. We need to get this comfort food into you before it goes cold.”

They settled onto the couch and devoured the pizza quickly, having to snatch it away from Blu at times. Then, Jordan spoke.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why? For having sex with someone you love? Someone who knows you and loves you too?”

“I guess it does sound better when you say it like that…”

“What happened? Tell me everything.”

Jordan sighed. “We dropped you off and came back home. We didn’t speak much in the car. She put her hand on my thigh, but I think it was more of a reassurance thing than a sexual thing. Then we spoke when we got home. I did exactly what you said, I sat far away so I wouldn’t be tempted by anything. She said the nicest things, YFN.” Jordan began to cry. “How much she loved me and missed me and how badly she’d screwed up. I couldn’t help myself, I cried and I couldn’t stop. I tried to hold it together. She comforted me and…” She put her hand on the back of the couch, presumably where they’d been sitting.

“Did you have sex right here?”

Jordan’s tears paused as she gave a cheeky, embarrassed smile.

“Ooookay I’m going to pretend I didn’t ask.” She reached out and brushed some of Jordan’s tears away. “Was it…bad?”

“No,” she admitted. “No, it was incredible. Probably the best sex I’ve had in my life. It was so desperate and passionate. I don’t know what happened, I missed her touch, I just melted.”

“Ah…and you cried after it?”

“No, I cried during it. It felt so good and to have her back so close to me. I missed her so much, YFN. I think after we’d been…doing it a while…the lust faded a little, and I just got scared. Scared that she made me feel so happy, made me feel so loved and then I got scared she’d leave again. I panicked and cried. She didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do. I told her to go.”

“She tried to stay?”

“Yeah of course but I was just a mess, I needed to be alone.”

YFN hesitated. “You pushed her away before she could leave you…”

“Is that what I did?” She whispered.

“Oh Dory, come here.” YFN pulled Jordan into her lap and wrapped her arms around her, stroking her supportively. YFN and Jordan were both very, very affectionate people, especially physically.

“I don’t know if I can trust her again. I th…thought I c…could.” Her crying increased and she clung to the front of YFN’s shirt.

“Did you tell her why you wanted her to go?”

“That’s the worst part…she begged me to stay. She was on her knees at one point. On her ACL torn knee…but I couldn’t look at her. I wanted her to go. I knew she had a long drive back to London. I knew it was late. I still kicked her out.” She shook her head. “She begged me all the way out of the door to explain what was happening. I just remember telling her, “I can’t handle you leaving me again.””

YFN’s stomach dropped for Leah. She finally got close to Jordan again. Close enough for sex. For intimacy. She must have been so happy…and in a split second it was all taken away from her because of that insecurity she’d planted in Jordan with her previous mistake.

“It’s okay…it’s okay. Leah will understand, trust me. Has she messaged you?”

Jordan nodded into her. “She’s sent me multiple messages since.”

“And have your feelings changed?”

“That fear of her leaving? It’s not going away anytime soon.”

“I think she needs to win your trust back. You two made a mistake by diving into sex.”

“I know,” she whispered quietly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You need to let her know that if she wants you, she needs to build that trust back. She needs to know that it may take a long time but it’ll be worth it because she’ll get to have you back.”

Jordan nodded. “You’re right…”

“If I’ve learnt anything over the past few days it’s that communication is key…”

“I just need a little space.”

“Okay…look, I’ll be at the Arsenal game on Sunday in Leicester. I’ll talk to her if you want? Explain a little…”

“I think that’s for the best.”

“Okay, I think you should message her asking for your space for the moment.”

“Can you do it?”

“I think this one is best coming from you, Jords.”

 She sighed but took her phone out and texted Leah without reading the messages the other woman had sent her.

“You won’t be at the Aston Villa game this week?”

YFN shook her head. “No, I’ll be covering Untied vs West Ham and then Leicester vs Arsenal.”

“But aren’t you going to Spain?”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah…I was planning on going Friday. Lucy has a game Saturday and then I’d fly back for the Sunday games.”

“You’re not staying for long, then? Lucy’s going to be upset.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I know, I planned on doing zoom for my meetings next week, but we’ve just expanded our employees by five hundred percent.”

“What the-”

“Oh, please don’t ask anything. I’m stressed and besides, tonight is all you, Jords. I think a phone call with Lucy and then with Katie and Caitlin may be just what you need, hm?”

Jordan agreed. “Yes, please! I’ll get rid of this rubbish and get us drinks while you message them.”

YFN opened her phone, hovering her finger above Lucy’s message before she remembered their phone call from last night. She bit her lip as she opened Instagram. Sure enough, the first posts were of Lucy boxing and YFN could feel her skin getting hot, and she squirmed as she also felt herself getting wet for her. God damn. Lucy. Those biceps. Lucy. That determined look. Lucy. She groaned.

“You okay?” Jordan asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” She called back and liked the post. She considered commenting and decided against that. She was worried how forward she would be in front of Lucy’s 750k followers.

YFN: Hey Luce, are you free for a call with Dory?

Lucy: Hi, little one. I’ve been waiting for your text. I smile when your name pops up on my phone. Yes, I’m free whenever you want me.

YFN: I always want you. And you’re always busy.

Lucy: Lies.

Jordan passed her a drink over the couch and she took a sip.

Lucy: Come to Spain and fuck the busy out of me.

She choked on her drink. Jordan gave her a look before she rolled her eyes as she made her own drink.

YFN: Behave. I’m barely hanging on with your Instagram posts.

Lucy: I hoped you’d like them…can we have a late-night call tonight when you’re free?

YFN: Yes, please.

It’s crazy how naturally they fell into teasing each other. She sent another message to the messenger with Katie, Caitlin and Jordan.

YFN: Hi! Are you all free for a group call with Dory and I in the next hour or so?

Caitlin: KEEN.

Katie: Only if we see your faces.

YFN: Done. I’ll message you soon!

Jordan joined her on the couch then and she called Lucy, giving Jordan the phone. Obviously, Jordan had Lucy’s number, but this was more convenient. She watched as the two old friends spoke, Lucy not failing to make Jordan grin and laugh. Of course she could. At one point they were even speaking about her, and YFN rolled her eyes, working a little on her laptop while they had their talk.

Their talk ended after about forty minutes, Jordan hanging up before YFN could talk to Lucy. She frowned. Lucy immediately texted.

Lucy: Call me in bed?

YFN: Okay, I’ll be about an hour, love. Thank you for that, she really needed it. You managed to cheer her up a lot.

Lucy: I know her too well. You’re welcome, though. Talk soon. x

YFN messaged the girls back then telling them to call whenever they were free. Apparently, that was immediately. Jordan and YFN on one end, Katie and Caitlin on the other. It was a hilarious conversation after Jordan had been honest about what happened with Leah to them. They’d given her support and told her to take her time which reassured her a little bit more. Katie had changed the mood of the conversation after that by introducing Coopurr by holding the cat up to the camera. Jordan responded in kind with Blu, of course. Then Caitlin surprised her fellow Australian with a question.

“Hey chicken, do you know what’s happening with Kyra? She’s been a bit off and we figured you might know…”

YFN hesitated. She didn’t want to keep anything from them, but knew it wasn’t her place. “Uh…yeah…it’s not really my place to say though…”

Katie turned to Caitlin. “I told you.”

“You were right,” Caitlin rasped. “It’s about Courtney then.”

They watched as YFN practically glued her mouth shut. Of course they knew. Courtney was a Matilda. Caitlin was a Matilda.

“Is that why you’re coming to our game now?”

“Oh, that's right! You two were so obvious when Kyra asked what game you were going to.”

“Mmnhmn. Yeah, look, all I can say is that I plan on interviewing them together. We’re going to start interviewing players in groups more, and also interviewing opposition together. So this weekend I’ll do a young interview with those two if I can catch Courtney, and then I’ll do an-”

“An old person interview? Rude.” Caitlin laughed.

YFN rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, we’re happy to do an interview with you, but I assume you want someone you haven’t talked to yet?”

“Yeah, you know, I was thinking Kim or…” She stopped herself as she looked at Jordan.

Jordan frowned. Leah. There was a moment of silence.

“That’s okay, you know.” Jordan reassured. YFN gave a grateful smile.

“…or Jen Beattie?”

“Are you in those little sleeping shorts of yours?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” she almost whispered.

Lucy hummed. “Good. Take them off.”

YFN did as she was told, wriggling them off and turning back to her phone propped up against Lucy’s pillow.

“Shirt too.”

She pulled her shirt off, now fully bare beneath the sheets besides her socks. Lucy knew she loved her socks, though.

“I wish you could understand how much I want you right now.” She said a little exasperated.

“Tell me…” She whispered, looking at Lucy through the camera. She allowed herself to begin playing with one of her nipples and Lucy noticed, groaning.

“If you could feel between my thighs, you’d know just how much I miss you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you…I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.”

“Good.” She said almost harshly. “That’s where I belong. Inside your mind. Inside you. Now I need you to touch yourself. I need your hands to do what I wish mine were right now.”

“Guide me where you want me, Luce.”

“Put your free hand around your throat. Good girl. Squeeze a little. Argh…yes. You like that, hm? Two days and that’ll be my hand.”

“God I need you, Luce.”

“I have no idea how I didn’t fuck you silly the other night.”

“Because you love me,” she whispered, her hand moving down over her body and under the sheets. She knew Lucy would enjoy that visual.

“Did I tell you to do that?”

YFN paused. “No…”

“Hm.”

“Can I…?” She trailed off as she saw Lucy’s darkened eyes through the screen.

“Use your words, love.”

“Can I touch myself?”

“Yes, but don’t go inside. Not yet.”

She felt through the wetness of her body, not realising just how ready she was. She was tempted to slip a finger in, but Lucy told her she couldn’t just yet, and so she didn’t. Her fingers found her little bundle of nerves and began to play.

“That’s my girl,” Lucy groaned. “T…that’s my girl. Feel that.”

Lucy stuttering a little was proof to her that she was also touching herself. Her eyes rolled back at the thought and her body was twitching and getting tingly at the stimulation of her clit. They worked themselves up like that for a while, both moaning and shakily breathing. Hearing Lucy losing control was one of her favourite things. She just wished she were right there, rather than across a phone.

“Luce, c…can I go inside?”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

She bit her lip and her back arched at the question, her fingers speeding up. She whimpered. “You, Luce. I belong to you.”

“Yes, you do. Don’t you ever fucking forget that. Two fingers inside, now.”

YFN eagerly thrust two fingers inside herself, her body jerking and her legs automatically widening.

“I want to hear you.”

YFN released one of her nipples to drag the phone down and place it on her left thigh. She could hear Lucy groaning from the other end. She threw the sheet off so she could hear her better.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me,” she repeated. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m yours, Luce. And I…I’m the l…lucky one.” She had no idea how she managed to get the sentence out. She was so wound up, her body arched into her hand, hips automatically thrusting against her fingers.

“I want you to come like this, fucking yourself. Don't move the phone, I want to hear it.”

YFN did as she was told, and sped up her assault, her body becoming a shaky, uncontrolled mess. It didn’t take long for her to get right to that edge, and she could hear Lucy getting closer. Lucy wasn’t very vocal, that was something they were still working on, however her moaning and panting betrayed her. She was close. She just needed to be tipped over the edge. So YFN gave her that.

“Arghh…Luce…Lucy…can I come?”

She knew asking permission would be Lucy’s last straw.

“Y…yes,” she gasped. “Come.”

YFN sped up her efforts once more as her body unfolded and that electric shock of ecstasy shocked her body into a tense spasm. She heard Lucy whimpering on the other end of the phone and that just made it last longer.

She let herself come down and reached for a tissue near the bed to wipe herself clean. She took the phone and put it back up near her face as she rolled to the side and looked at her girlfriend. Lucy pushed the glasses up her nose, giving a satiated grin. She couldn’t help but return her own.

“This is becoming a regular thing for us.” YFN said.

“I need this just to be able to think during the day about something other than fucking you.”

“Ah, but I thought you liked thinking about me.”

Lucy laughed incredulously. “Yes, but I also have a profession I should be thinking about. Mapi managed to kick a ball into me today while I was zoned out thinking about how good you look under me.”

The visual was hilarious. “You’re insatiable.”

“It’s never been a problem until you. I feel like I’m losing a battle of urges.”

“Keep talking, please, you’re making me feel very loved right now.”

Lucy laughed and YFN continued. “But if it’s any consolation, I also can’t stop thinking about you. The one time I managed to not, was when I was walking into my meeting but then I saw your flowers…”

Lucy grinned. “You liked them? I thought it’d be romantic.”

“Oh, it was. And just so you know, your surprise will be there tomorrow also.”

Lucy’s eyes widened with excitement. “You sent me something?!”

“Last night. I just wanted you to know that I sent it BEFORE I received your flowers.”

“Who’s the romantic one, now?”

“You, always you. I may be a romantic, but I’ll never have anything on you, Luce.”

[evansbby]

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐞𝐬 {𝐩𝐨𝐲𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, noncon, dubcon, daddy!kink, hardcore misogyny, degradation, possessive Steve, inebriation, mentions of alcohol. MINORS, DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve throws a Halloween party and you try your hardest to be the perfect little host. {happy spooky szn, everyone!! this poyt drabble is a halloween special, set after Steve mated with Omega, and has no effect to the plot/main story of preying on you tonight}

“What the fuck is this?”

The abrupt sound of Steve’s voice makes your blood run cold, the orange and black crepe paper slipping from your hands and dropping to the floor.

“Steve, I… uh.” Daring to meet his heated gaze, your heart pitter-patters pathetically and you immediately avert your eyes, staring at the ground and fingers fidgeting nervously.

“Hi, Steve!” Natasha says brightly, giving the alpha a huge smile. She’s sat cross-legged next to you, sorting through a bunch of sparkly jack-o-lantern wall stickers that she’d brought over with her. You’re both on the floor in Steve’s and your bedroom, sorting through various party decorations.

He glowers at her before turning back to you, “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s… she’s just…” It’s not an ideal moment for your stutter to flare up, but Steve looks so annoyed. And you knew he’d be like this the moment Natasha showed up at your doorstep with a peppy smile and a bunch of Halloween decorations in her arms, matching the ones you’d bought just this morning.

Steve, Bucky and Sam were hosting a Halloween party tonight. Steve had only just informed you yesterday, and in the early hours of the morning, while Steve was at football practice, you’d gone to the nearby party shop to stock up on decorations. Because parties needed decorations, right? And the three alphas hadn’t really done much to spruce up the place. In fact, you’d spent the majority of the afternoon vacuuming and cleaning the downstairs area before Natasha had shown up to help you.

“We’re making streamers, duh.” Natasha blinks up at Steve innocently, but her nonchalance seems to wind him up even more.

“Omega.” Steve gives you a stern look, and immediately you stand up, scurrying over to him. He puts a heavy arm around your shoulders, crushing you into his chest. “You know you’re not allowed to have people over.”

You’re about to apologise before Natasha pipes up.

“Relax, Steve. I came over unannounced. Thor told me about the party and I thought she could use some help since I doubt that you’ll be doing any decorating.”

Steve doesn’t even look at her, but you can see his eyes flashing with annoyance. And you know why he’s mad too. Steve likes to have you ready and waiting for him on his bed when he comes home all riled up from football practice. Carnal, sweaty, amped up and filled with testosterone and pent-up aggression, he usually fucks you hard and fast when he gets home, before dragging you to the shower for more sex. But he can’t quite do any of that with Natasha here.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.” Natasha says from across the room, making Steve glare at her with blazing eyes. If looks could kill…

“Maybe you should keep your mouth shut and just observe.” He jeers, “Learn how a well-trained omega is supposed to act around an alpha.” He tightens his grip on you, making a show of reaching down to squeeze your ass. You yelp helplessly, wishing he wouldn’t do that in front of her.

“Congratulations, Steve. You run such a strict regime that she’s literally afraid of you.” Natasha rolls her eyes, her voice dripping in sarcasm. But she bites her lip and shoots you an apologetic look when she sees you wince.

You know Natasha’s dynamic with Thor – her alpha boyfriend – is a lot different from you and Steve. You’ve seen her make fun of him, roll her eyes at him, and even raise her voice at him. You could never do any of that with Steve – but was it that obvious that you were afraid of him?

“I’m gonna go put the streamers up downstairs.” Natasha says, quickly getting to her feet and skipping over to the door. She turns back to pointedly look at you, ignoring Steve, “You can join me later and help me with the balloons.”

The door has only just closed behind her and Steve’s already dragging you to the bed, sitting down with his muscular thighs spread, and pulling you onto his lap.

“What is all this?” He gestures at the decorations strewn about on the floor.

You squirm, “I just thought that we’d need some decorations for your party. But I can tell Natasha to take them down if you don’t like them.”

He frowns, “Did you buy all this yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How many times have I told you to use my card when you’re buying things?” He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tugging upwards till you’re looking at him.

“I…I have my own money, Steve.” Well, not much of it ever since he made you quite your job. But your bank balance never decreased, seeing as Steve paid for literally everything for you; from your food to your clothes to your shoes and everything in between.

He doesn’t answer, instead reaching into his pocket for his phone and tapping away. Not ten seconds later, you feel your own phone vibrate.

Steve R. transferred you $200

Your eyes widen, “The decorations didn’t cost that much–”

You’re interrupted by his lips pressing down on yours, large hands cradling your face gently as he kisses you. And if you could replay it every time he kissed you, just replay it in slow-motion, you would do it a hundred times over. It’s insane how the butterflies erupt in the depths of your tummy as he draws you closer still, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip.

“An omega is not meant to pay for anything – it’s the responsibility of her alpha to take care of her.” He says against your lips before pecking you a few more times, “But it’s pretty cute, you know. You going on a little grocery run for the party.”

You nod, “I tried to think of everything we’d need. I’ve never hosted a party before so I wasn’t sure.” You pause, “Sorry, I know I’m not hosting this party. It’s your party.” You shake your head, averting your gaze from his because looking at him too long makes you all nervous and squirmy.

“I – uh – I got all kinds of decorations from the Halloween section – like streamers and balloons and whatnot. Natasha got some too.” You try not to get distracted by his finger sensually tracing shapes on your thigh. “I also got snacks. Like chips and popcorn and soda. I was also going to bake cupcakes with orange and black frosting but I didn’t have time. I’m sorry. But I got store-bought ones that look pretty good.”

Steve stares at you for a prolonged period of time during which about a million concerns surface inside your head. Had you done too much? Had you not done enough? But you breathe a sigh of relief when he leans down to cover your face in kisses, his lips sponging from the corner of your mouth before dipping down to nip at your jaw and finally finding their place on his mark on your neck.

“Look at you, running errands like a perfect little housewife.” Steve pinches your cheek condescendingly, “I always knew you were such a good little omega, baby. I’m proud of you.”

Proud. You glow at his praise, subconsciously nuzzling your cheek against the warm palm of his hand, chirping happily when he strokes you. It’s insane how much his praise and approval means to you, with the omega inside of you bursting with joy at the fact that you’ve pleased your alpha. You always want to please him. You want to make him even more proud.

“I also bought some party games,” You add shyly, hoping he’ll approve. “There’s a pin-the-hat-on-the-witch and there’s also bobbing for apples, and–”

Your voice cuts off when you hear what sounds like a suppressed laugh. Glancing up at Steve, you see the corner of his mouth quirk upward, and a sparkle in his eye. Immediately, you shut your mouth, heat rising in your cheeks and heart wilting. Was he laughing at you?

“On second thought, the games sound babyish. I’m sorry.” You mumble, mentally kicking yourself at even bringing it up. It didn’t help that the last time you’d been to a Halloween party was back when you were in elementary school.

“I’d like to see you bob for apples,” He teases, reaching down to squeeze your ass. But he says nothing more about it, continuing to make out with you until you’re both unceremoniously interrupted by Natasha’s bellowing voice carrying from downstairs.

“COULD SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME, I CAN’T REACH HIGH ENOUGH TO STICK THE STREAMERS!”

“She’s a fucking pain in the ass,” Steve says darkly, “Nothing but trouble. If I gave more of a fuck, I’d speak to Thor about keeping her in check. But it’s a good thing he hasn’t marked her – she’s a cheap whore anyways. Nothing like you, baby. And I don’t want you getting influenced by her bullshit.”

“She was just helping me.” You say softly, wanting to add that Natasha’s the first and only person at this university who’s actually been nice to you and treated you like an equal.

“I don’t care, omega. She’s not setting a good example for you and you’re not allowed to hang out with her anymore, do I make myself clear?”

It’s horrifically unfair, but Steve’s scent is so overpowering, so persuading in making you listen to him. And so you nod, hoping that maybe later he’d come around. You don’t want to lose Natasha as a friend. As pathetic as it sounds, she’s kind of your only friend.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees. I’ve had a long day and it’d be good to unwind before the party tonight.”

“But Steve, I gotta decorate–”

The look on his face is enough to get you scrambling down to your knees in record time. And it’s a little later, when he’s got a death grip in your hair and your mouth suckling on his balls while his heavy dick rests on your face, that he asks you casually, “What’s your costume going to be?”

You come up for air, breathing hard and trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “Oh, it’s – uh – it’s a surprise.” Even you don’t know what your costume is yet because Natasha had taken it upon herself to provide one for you. She’d said all would be revealed tonight, and a costume was the least of your worries.

Steve – surprisingly – doesn’t question this, instead guiding your head back down on his cock, bobbing it up and down and throwing his head back, a low hiss escaping his lips.

“Whatever. Just remember to check with me beforehand. I need to approve of whatever you’re wearing before anyone else sees it, you got that?”

“Yes, daddy.”

***

The party is in full swing, and it’s wilder than you anticipated. Thor walks in with about a dozen sixpacks in tow, with Natasha squealing and jumping on him as soon as he enters. Bucky and Sam have invited what looks to be more than half of the female population at the university, all of them scantily-clad and surrounding the two alphas, hanging off their arms in costumes ranging from sexy kittens to sexy cowgirls to sexy nurses.

Your own costume is prettier than you anticipated; a light pink satin slip dress – almost like lingerie – that flows yet clings to your body in a flattering way. Glittery pink fairy wings are attached to your back, small enough to not get in the way of anything but big enough that one could appreciate the swirling design. See-through nude stockings adorn your legs, complete with lacy trimmed tops accented with ribbons. Dainty glass heels cover your feet, and your makeup’s minimal and glowy, with a lot of body glitter added everywhere. You don’t know how Natasha’s managed to create such a pretty costume for you – but she’s a fashion major after all.

“Steve doesn’t deserve you in this outfit.” Natasha had commented earlier when you’d tried it on, “But that doesn’t mean he won’t go crazy over it.”

And Steve had gone crazy over it, inspecting each and every angle while you stood in the middle of the room like a piece of meat at the butcher’s shop. He couldn’t help but squeeze your ass, fondle your breasts, tug your dress up to “check what panties you were wearing” as well as a lot of other things. Finally, he’d resorted to dragging you to the bed, pushing you down on your hands and knees, flipping your dress up and fucking you right then and there.

“M-My costume– it’s gonna get ruined!” You’d cried, but to no avail.

“Fuck, my little baby omega, think you can dress up like some sexy fucking fairy and your daddy won’t fuck you in your little costume, huh?” He’d said through gritted teeth, grabbing your flimsy little wings and pushing them to the side so he could press down on your back. “The only way you can be seen in this outfit is if you looked freshly fucked – so everyone knows exactly who your daddy is, you got that?”

Now your wings were permanently crooked and you had a slight limp in your step, but at least Steve had allowed you to wear the fairy outfit to the party downstairs. Granted, he had his arm around you the whole time, showing you off obnoxiously like you were some kind of shiny object.

“Isn’t she cute, Barber? You should’ve seen her earlier, trying to put up the decorations but she was too little to reach.”

“She cooks, she cleans, and she looks like a million bucks. Can’t say the same about your omega, huh, Curtis?”

“Don’t fucking look at my girlfriend, Jensen. Who even invited you, anyways? Get the fuck out of my sight. Go bob for apples or some shit.”

You sigh, watching poor Jake Jensen’s face fall as he retreats to the corner of the room where the crate of apples is situated all on its lonesome. No one else is really indulging in your party games; in fact, you’d seen someone rip the pin-the-hat-on-the-witch clean in half – which wasn’t nice at all.

On top of that, your Halloween cupcakes were currently mush on the ground, someone had stepped and trodden on them, which made you sad. Even your punch – which you had so painstakingly mixed until it was perfect – tasted kind of funny. You were on your second cup, hoping that you were just imagining the bitter taste of the drink.

“Steve, this tastes funny,” You mumble softly, tugging at your boyfriend’s sleeve. For his Halloween costume, he was just wearing his football jersey and claiming to be a “football player.” Less than minimum effort, but a bunch of girls had gushed and squealed, telling him how good he looked. Steve had ignored them, but that didn’t stop the omega inside of you going green with a strong sense of jealous territorialism.

Even Steve Junior’s costume was more creative than Steve’s. You’d had a black and white striped shirt that had shrank in the wash, and to your glee, it fit your stuffed teddy perfectly.

“He’s a convict!” You’d told Steve proudly, earlier after he’d finished fucking you and you were sitting there trying to catch your breath and straighten your fairy wings, and the alpha had snorted, grabbing the teddy by the neck.

“Oh yeah? What’d he get arrested for? Watching us fuck?”

“No!” You’d answered, completely appalled.

Steve had laughed, easily keeping the stuffie out of your reach when you’d lunged to grab it, “You’re a little pervert, aren’t you, Steve Junior?” And Steve Junior’s coal black eyes had only stared blankly at Steve before you’d snatched him back.

At least now, the stuffie was safe upstairs in the bedroom. The same couldn’t be said about you, however, downstairs in the midst of a party that only seemed to be getting wilder. You’re on Steve’s lap, his hand laid down on your bare thigh possessively as he downs a beer and laughs at whatever he and his friends are talking about. How they can talk when the music is so pulsating and loud is beyond you.

“Shhh, baby, just drink your punch.” He says, pressing a kiss on your lips before continuing his conversation.

You pout, “But it doesn’t taste right–”

Your quiet complaint is drowned out by the noise of the party and you sigh, feeling slightly dizzy as you try to reposition yourself on Steve’s lap. But that only makes your alpha growl lowly, gripping you tighter and thrusting his hips up against your ass – right in front of everyone, no less! Normally, you would’ve begged him not to do that but right now you feel weirdly slow and sluggish… and kind of horny. Wait, what?

“Stop fidgeting or else I’m gonna have to fuck you right here in front of everyone.” Steve whispers in your ear through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to!” You cry not-so-softly, trying to grab on to his leg to steady yourself before realisation hits you like a bucket of icy cold water dumped unceremoniously onto your head. Did you just call him “daddy” right here? Out in the open? In front of everyone?

There’s a moment of silence, and then…

“Oh, so you’re daddy huh?” Andy barks out a laugh, nudging Steve.

Sam rolls his eyes, “I’ve heard worse. I keep telling him the walls are thin.”

“Look at her now, trying to hide under her daddy’s jersey!” Ransom hoots with laughter, making you freeze in the middle of trying to tug the sleeve of Steve’s jersey over your face.

“Stop looking at my girlfriend, Drysdale.” Steve shoots back, but he looks smugger than ever, clearly unperturbed by your little slip-up as he smooths your hair back condescendingly. You feel absolutely mortified – what the hell is wrong with you? Why do you feel so disoriented and less in control of yourself??

You take another large gulp of your punch before standing up.

“Bathroom.” You tell Steve before stumbling off, thanking your lucky stars when he doesn’t pull you back.

All around you, there’s bodies dancing to the pulsating music, and you try to dodge them but it proves to be difficult in your disoriented state. Suddenly, the bathroom seems so far away, when you remember it being only about a few steps outside of the living room. There are too many people, too much noise, too much chaos. You can’t even hear your heartbeat thanks to the thumping music, and you feel the sudden need to go back to Steve and his protective warmth.

Turning back, you see Natasha and Thor have joined Steve’s group. Thor’s wearing some kind of Norse God costume (as he’d excitedly told you when he’d first walked in) and Natasha looks amazing in her cheerleading outfit, the colours of her costume matching Steve’s football jersey.

“They’ve fucked, you know.”

You jump at the voice in your ear and the hand that presses down against the small of your back. A flash of light blue eyes and the flurry of a black cape. It’s Bucky, dressed up as Count Dracula, complete with fake blood dripping down the side of his mouth. For a split-second, you’re reminded of the night Steve had marked you; his bite, the blood, the pain…

You blink stupidly, “What?”

“Steve and Natasha. He’s fucked her.” Bucky smirks, his hand still on your back, stroking up and down but you’ve yet to register it, “What, Steve didn’t tell you? I thought he or Nat would have… seeing as she’s now your friend and all…”

Now it feels like your head is spinning, and you sway slightly in your heels, unwittingly gripping Bucky’s arm to steady yourself. You glance back at Steve, who’s too busy laughing with his friends while Natasha looks at him in disgust, shaking her head and grabbing Thor’s hand.

You know it shouldn’t affect you, that it must have been from before you and Steve had got together… But why hadn’t Steve told you? Why hadn’t Natasha told you? Face crumpling, you back away even further, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Hey, you don’t look too good. Why don’t you come into my room and lie down for a second. Steve won’t mind.” Bucky tries to grab your wrist but you slip out of his grip, turning on your heel and stumbling towards the bathroom, trying not to get swallowed up by the sea of writhing bodies.

You don’t know how long you sit in the bathroom, on the toilet seat with your head in your hands. But Steve finds you there after a while, coming in and locking the door behind him.

“Did you die in here? It’s been twenty minutes.”

You sigh, but say nothing else. Steve doesn’t seem to like that, however, grabbing your wrist and yanking you up to your feet and tapping your cheek lightly, “I expect you to answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“I’m not having fun.” You say softly, wanting Steve Junior except he’s upstairs and going upstairs right now seems like an impossible feat of physical and mental strength.

“Oh yeah?” Steve eyes you up and down, licking his lips when his gaze zeroes in on one of your dress straps slipping down your shoulder. “You wanna fuck?”

“All the decorations are torn and ruined, my fairy wings are crooked, nobody’s playing bob for apples or pin-the-tale-on-the-bitch – I mean witch – and no one ate the cupcakes and…and…and,” you hiccup, choking back a sob, “and my punch tasted weird! I hate this party an’ I hate Halloween!”

Steve cups your face between his hands, tipping it upwards and surveying you carefully before a smirk spreads across his features. “You’re drunk.”

“Wha–”

“Mmhm, I think someone might have spiked the punch. Your pupils are completely dilated.”

Cold terror courses through you, and you grip his hands which are holding your face, “D-Don’t wanna be drunk, Steve! Don’t like being drunk!”

He snorts, “Relax. A little buzz won’t hurt you. And anyways,” He shoots you a devilish smirk, backing you up until your back hits the marble sink, and he picks you up and places you on top of it, stepping between your spread legs. “Baby omegas like you tend to get horny when they’re drunk. Good thing your daddy’s here to help you out with that…”

“No!” You cry, and it’s something you never would’ve done if you were sober, “don’t want to, Steve! You slept with Natasha!”

Steve, who’s in the middle of pushing your straps down your arms and kissing up your neck, stops short, regarding you carefully, “Who told you that?”

For the life of you, you can’t seem to remember. Who had told you? Everything seems foggy, but Steve hasn’t denied it, so you soldier on: “Don’t remember who told me, but...but…but, you–”

“Yeah, I did.” Steve cuts you off, before flipping your dress up and bunching it around your waist, his hand going straight between your legs as his lips return to your neck, lapping against your jagged mark. You gasp – either at what he’s said or the feel of his fingers ripping your panties in half, you’re not sure.

“Mm, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” Steve murmurs against your skin, almost as if he hasn’t just confessed to doing exactly what you accused him of. His thumb and forefinger pinch your clit and you jump, “My little baby fairy, all drunk and innocent, waiting for daddy to take care of you, huh?”

“Steve,” you whine, not wanting to fall victim to his expert touch, how he knows your body so well. Pushing your dress down and exposing your breasts, his mouth immediately latches on to your nipple, and you resist the urge to moan, “Steve, please! You… you and Nat… you–”

Steve groans in exasperation, giving your nipple a hearty suck before lifting his head back up, looking half bored and half annoyed. “It’s not that serious, omega. It happened years ago, just forget it.”

You pout and he sighs.

“It was freshman year, okay? I barely remember fucking her. Bucky fucked her too. And Sam. In fact, she’s gone through the entire football team. I told you she’s a cheap whore – nothing like you – and this is why.”

Your mouth drops open, even in your drunken state, you don’t like how he’s talking about her.

“You’re my perfect little baby, all pure and innocent,” Steve coos, pinching your cheek before kissing you, pressing his leg between your thighs and grinding it forward, making you gasp and grab hold of his strong arms. “This is why you’re different from them, omega. In your cute little fairy dress while the rest of those sluts out there are dressed like trashy whores.”

You hate how he’s talking, hate how horrifically misogynistic him and his friends all are. Because your dress is practically lingerie – you’re just as scantily clad as the other girls at the party. But his scent is distracting you, as is the alcohol pumping in your system, making you needy, making your carnal want for him amplify times ten.

“Gonna fuck you in your little fairy dress again, baby.” Steve informs you, turning you around abruptly and giving your bare ass a harsh slap. Your poor panties lie ripped up somewhere on the floor, but that’s the least of your concerns as Steve pushes you down till you’re lying flat on the sink top, your ass in the air and Steve’s dick in his hand.

“Can’t get enough of you in this little get-up. And I just know all the guys are so fucking jealous. They all wanna fuck you, but they can’t. Only I get to see you like this. My baby omega, bent over and getting fucked like it’s your job.” He gives your ass another harsh slap before entering you, and you gasp, gripping onto the counter, all the drunken worries slowly dissipating as your head goes empty when you feel his fat dick against your tight walls.

“Look at you, head’s already going empty, huh?”

“Mm, daddy,” you mewl.

“That’s right, forget about everything else. You did so good, omega, planning your first Halloween party. You made me so proud, baby, so you can stop thinking now. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

THE END! I know that was kind of an abrupt ending but trust me, i had to end it somewhere otherwise i would’ve kept going! i was just in the mood to write something on theme for october for this pairing, so there we go! PLEASE, please, please do let me know what you think! Feedback is so so SO appreciated!! Also, POYT 4 is coming very soon, i’m almost done with it! i just love writing poyt drabbles sometimes too! Please let me know what you think, and i hope you enjoyed! thank you!

[boneblushed]

Untouchable

masterlist | part 4 | part 5

synopsis So maybe Rafe Cameron isn’t as bad as you thought he was.

wc 4.3k

As the football team files into the locker room after practice, Rafe Cameron jogs ahead, the space filling with sweat and grit. The vague scent of testosterone permeates.

“Dude,” Dalton carps, shoved aside as Rafe pushes past him. “You good?”

“I’m late,” Rafe pants, fishing his towel out of his gym bag before throwing it into his locker. “She told me she’d murder me if I was late to another meeting.”

He’s in too much of a rush to notice the reception this receives, a flurry of knowing looks punctuated by a keen sense of hubris. Kelce and Dalton may be the only two willing to bet on his odds with you, but it’s clear that the rest of the team—the prefects, the graduating class—have picked up on the lingering eye contact and ricocheting glances, the drawn out meetings and nescient closeness.

Not that it matters. September now, with the crisp Autumn chill beginning to unfurl, you maintain the same, safe distance from Rafe Cameron as jilted you had once delineated. Sure, you’re friendlier now, a little softer around the edges, but it’s clear that you’re fighting hard to keep things professional, hold him an arm’s length away and not closer.

He wishes it wouldn’t bother him as much as it does. There’s been a few instances where he’s attempted more than a ride in his pick-up; an invite to whatever lame party his team’s throwing that weekend, an offer to stop by the Burger Shack on the way home. As friends—colleagues. To minimal avail, of course, you’re always giving him the same answer when he asks: “Nice try, Cameron.” Not a yes, not a no, just this odd, taunting response that’s sweetened by your peach scented lipgloss.

His most recent attempt had been just the other week, when a meeting about winter formal had run longer than you’d initially planned. It’d been brought to his attention by a pang of hunger in his abdomen, and he’d pulled up Uber Eats without any sort of ulterior motive.

“What’s your McDonalds order?” He’d asked, looking up at you briefly.

The sun was hanging low on the horizon that evening; he remembers this because of the way it bedaubed the bottom half of your face, accentuated the smooth column of your throat.

Your frown looked prettier in yellow light — that’s another thing he remembers. You’d raised your eyebrows a little, not bothering to look up at him. Another pang. “Why?”

“You’re not hungry, Y/L/N?” He’d asked, raising his in tandem.

“Starving.” You’d glanced up then, frowning harder, prettier. “Maybe you should concentrate on getting this done so we can both go home for dinner.”

“Okay, not McDonalds,” Rafe had acceded, flicking back to the UberEats home screen and leaning in. “Chinese? Thai food? Something fancier? Vending machine crap?”

“Cameron.”

“Y/L/N,” he’d mocked, knocking his shoulder against yours cajolingly. “C’mon, we both need a bit of food. We’ve been at this for fucking hours.”

“So if I say yes,” you’d asked then, angling away and sending him a pointed look, “you’ll let me pay for my own meal?”

Rafe hadn’t missed a beat, scoffing, “Of course not.”

You’d sighed, “Exactly.” And then, “Nice try, Cameron.”

Like clockwork. He’s thinking about it now, mostly about the way his name moulds your gloss-shiny lips, when Kelce’s voice breaks his reverie.

“Pussy whipped,” he coughs, earning a few stifled laughs from the rest of the football team.

Rafe’s about to rise to the bait when his conscience forces a falter, reminding him of the last time you were brought up in this locker-room. He’s constantly, incessantly taunted by the stupid, sophomore version of him; more so now that he knows his fondness of you was misinterpreted back then. So he’s adamant that there won’t be any more crude shows of affection—when he tells you he’s grown, he’s wants to be able to mean it.

So, instead of responding, Rafe flips Kelce off over his shoulder, grabbing his lathering gel and disappearing into the shower area.

“Oh shit,” Kelce wolf-whistles, more a jibe than a taunt. “You really are pussy whipped, huh?”

“Do me a favour, Smith.” Rafe sounds calmer than Kelce had expected him to, his rough voice scary steady. “And keep her name out of your mouth.”

—

You’re scrunching your nose when he nears, head lowered and notes in disarray.

It’s that stupid, heady cologne he wears—musk and patchouli something, you think—that you’re developing a knack for recognising almost anywhere. And chlorine, always chlorine and other pool chemicals, except for Fridays which are devoted to football practice petrichor.

“I would ask if you own a watch,” you say, refusing to look up, “but I know you do, because the Rolex logo blinds me every fucking time it’s in the sun.”

Rafe takes a seat beside you, snaking his arm around your backrest and swivelling it around to him in one swift motion.

You gasp in surprise, though it melts into a scoff as the indignation sets in. “Cameron,” you angle back, eyes widening slightly. “I was in the middle of something.”

“So here’s the thing,” he begins, ignoring you. His thighs are pressed into either side of his seat, the groove of his knees nudging your thighs ever so slightly. “I was… alright, a minute late, yeah? And I thought — well, she isn’t going to care if it’s a minute or ten, she’s going to murder no matter how late I am.”

You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms over his chest. “True.”

“So,” he leans down, fishing a cylinder of Pringles and a packet of Skittles out of his bag, “I thought I’d take some time to pick out my ideal last meal.”

You glance down at the assortment dubiously, narrowing your eyes. “Vending machine crap?”

“Vending machine crap,” Rafe affirms, throwing them onto the table beside him. The plastic crinkles ominously.

“Bold of you to assume that I’d allow a last meal, Cameron,” you say then, faux-serious.

He leans forward in his seat, his blue eyes glinting with mirth. “Christ, Y/L/N, you’re going to deny me fundamental human rights now?”

“Wouldn’t you rather a quick, painless death than us delaying the inevitable with some food?” You respond, leaning forward in tandem.

“A quick, painless death, huh?” He asks, his voice lower now, roughened by the closeness. “How’re you going to do it then, head girl?”

The amusement on your features gives way to diffidence. It feels as though there’s a hidden meaning to the words he’s saying, something more crackling alive in the inch of space between your faces. “Poison,” you say, softer too.

A pause. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, and his chest stills, his broad shoulders tensing. “Don’t know if you’ll need it,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing arduously. “Not right now.”

You furrow your brow, momentarily bemused. “Hm?”

Rafe Cameron thinks about kissing you often. He thinks about it in this absentminded, matter-of-fact way, like it’s meant to be on his mind all the time, like the pull in his chest is an inevitable part of being your almost friend—colleague.

He thinks about it extra hard now, slanted by your proximity and the soft, bergamot notes of your perfume.

Contrary to your vow, it’s eliciting a slow, painful death not to lean in and press his mouth against yours. He swallows again, his gaze lingering on your lips, and the tension in the room sears through you like a meteorite.

You pull back hastily, clearing your throat and turning back toward the table. “Anyway,” you cough, pulling your laptop forward and touching the mousepad. “We should really get going on this agenda.”

Rafe takes a little longer to regain his composure, his warm breath folding over your shoulder as he sighs. He turns too, leaning forward to look at the screen, and suddenly his proximity feels like too much to bare.

You move your chair to the side a little, the legs scraping over polished wood tauntingly. Rafe’s chest pulls in protest. “Right,” he says after a beat, trying not to frown. “Winter formal.”

The pair of you work in silence for a while. Time ticks by slowly, the maddening inches between you shrinking, and it’s only at the sight of a purple horizon that you acquiesce and stop working.

When you close your laptop and turn to address Rafe, you find that he’s already looking at you.

The revelation makes your pulse jolt. You break eye contact and clear your throat, busying yourself with your tote bag.

“Your focus is unparalleled by the way,” he says after a beat, his voice somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Remind me never to leave you alone when you’re studying.”

You try not to look too pleased by this revelation. “I always study alone, Cameron.”

“For your safety, Y/L/N,” he replies, faux-sombre, “I really think you shouldn’t.”

You look over at him, raising your eyebrows. “Is this your weird way of asking me on a study date?”

“Oh no,” he responds matter-of-factly, pushing back onto the hind legs of his chair. “One, I don’t study.” He leans forward then, ducks his head to eye-level, the blue of his irises bright and ever present. “Two, studying together is not a date.”

In your head, this translates to: you’re overestimating his interest. You say, suddenly chagrined, “I was kidding. Obviously.”

“So was I,” Rafe returns, cracking a roguish grin. “Obviously.”

You scoff, throwing your tote bag over your shoulder and standing up. “Nice try, Cameron.”

“It’s true, though,” he replies, oddly sincere as he straightens. “Any other girl and I’d never fucking dream of bringing them to a library to hang out.”

“Make out,” you correct with a cough, earning another grin.

“Exactly,” he nods, raising his eyebrows significantly. “I mean, shit, I’ve got a reputation to uphold Y/L/N.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. “What? As the Academy’s biggest fuckboy?”

“Fuckboy?” Rafe echoes, faux-affronted. “It’s not my fault I’m such a goddamn delight, now, is it?”

“Except,” you reply, trying not to smile, ���that delight is probably the last word I’d use to describe you.”

Your shoulders knock together as you walk forward. It becomes harder not to smile, his closeness like warm syrup.

“And the first?” He asks.

“Well,” you splay your palm out and begin listing adjectives off, “cocky, arrogant, absolutely insufferable, sweet when you want to be which is actually rarely ever —”

“Sweet?” Rafe interrupts, something fond swelling in his chest. “I’ll take sweet.”

“You’re forgetting the rarely ever part,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows.

“Still,” he insists, grinning stubbornly, “ever.”

You shake your head exasperatedly, almost amused, and push through a set of double doors that take you to the foyer. The carpark isn’t far away, and the promise of a ride home—time and closeness like something rare—lingers in the air.

It’s as you’re grappling with its presence that you frown, suddenly aware of the silence. The pair of you have stopped walking and you aren’t certain why that is. “This conversation was going somewhere, wasn’t it?”

Rafe furrows his brow thoughtfully, though his features are quick to acquiesce. “Right. The fact that I don’t consider studying a date.”

You cringe again. “Oh.”

“But,” he continues, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

A tell-tale warmth spreads over your cheeks. “Nice try, Cameron,” you mutter, though your voice sounds weaker than you want it to.

“Don’t worry, Y/L/N,” he murmurs back, bowing his head to eye level. “When I’m asking you out for real, I’ll make sure that you know it.”

—

Lightning: his musk and patchouli scent—and chlorine today, no petrichor to fill the air.

Thunder: his voice. Deeper when he’s calling out for you than when you’re alone with him.

One always comes before the other, like this cyclical reminder of how much of him is now familiar.

“Y/L/N!” He calls out urgently, prompting you to halt.

“Cameron?” You turn to face him as he nears, evidently bewildered. “No meeting today, remember? Cromwell’s away.”

“No, I know,” he answers, a little breathless. “How’re you getting home?”

You furrow your brow bemusedly. “Walking?”

“I always drive you home after meetings,” he says then, quick to fall into your step. “Let me drive you home.”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” You ask, sounding a little exasperated. “We don’t have one of those today, genius.”

Rafe grins handsomely, knocking his shoulder against yours. “I’m a creature of habit, Y/L/N. Can’t you use your head girl goodwill and humour me just this once?”

You shake your head bemusedly, deciding to accede. “I don’t get why this is such a big deal for you.”

Rafe shrugs matter-of-factly, beads of water falling from his damp hair to his broad shoulders. It pulls your gaze from his muscles to the bare expanse of his forearms, his shirt sleeves rolled up so his Rolex glints in the yellow sun. “It’d be weird,” he says finally, “driving home in silence on a Wednesday instead of listening to your god-awful playlist.”

“Hey!” You chide, pushing him sideways playfully. “My playlist is fucking fire.”

Rafe makes a face. “Listening to that much Taylor Swift can’t be healthy.”

“Don’t do that,” you return, fixing him with a knowing look. “I hear you humming along to Delicate whenever it plays.”

“Good tune,” he defends, accurate lyrics, “that’s it.”

“Aw,” you tease, smiling this sweet, amused smile up at him—sunshine incarnate. “Don’t worry Mr Fuckboy, I won’t tell anyone that you’re actually a secret swiftie.”

Normally he’d return the jibe, but that fond look on your face is making it hard for him to breath. He wishes he had a camera, pathetic as that is. He wishes he had you, was afforded the luxury of endless time with your pretty face.

“Kildare Academy’s head girl everybody,” he says after a beat, unlocking his car with a tandem grin. “The paragon of confidentiality.”

Delicate plays once on the ride to your house. And when it does, his proclivity for the song now made public, Rafe Cameron isn’t afraid sing along loudly.

He’s proudly unabashed when the chorus blares through, singing, “Is it cool that I said all that?”

“Is it chill that that you’re in my head?” You join in between laughter, angling toward him to face him fully.

His long fingers drum against the steering wheel with the beat, making the muscles of his forearm pulse. He leans forward to turn the music up louder, and when he hand drops again, it falls onto the vibrating gear shift.

Dangerously close to your exposed thigh, a slate of sunlight painting it a warm shade of orange. “Cause I know that it’s delicate.” Rafe becomes acutely aware of the lyrics to this song, all of a sudden. “Isn’t it…”

“Isn’t it, isn’t it, isn’t it,” you continue to sing, that sweet, amused smile making a return on your face. Almost pleased. The awareness grows maddening.

You continue to hum along whilst Rafe tries to catch his breath. He’s almost grateful for the fact that he’s nearing your house until he realises that this means no more pretty girl in his pick-up truck.

“Think you can keep yourself from studying too hard this weekend?” Rafe asks, pulling into your driveway carefully.

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows playfully. “Think you can force yourself to do a bit of study this weekend?”

Rafe throws his arm around your headrest and leans in a little, this fond, roguish grin on his face that makes your chest hurt. “Why? You asking me on a study date, Y/L/N?”

“No,” you answer, fixing him with a pointed look. “I just think your brain deserves a little bit of a workout.”

Rafe presses his tongue against his cheek, his gaze falling over your figure slow. “Trust me when I say,” he replies, his voice lower now, rougher. “That the real estate you occupy in there is a workout in itself.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, that pain in your chest dissolving into something softer. “All the nagging,” you deflect, “huh?”

Your front door opens, and Rafe catches the movement in his peripheral vision. His eyes linger on you anyway.

“Not quite,” he murmurs finally, just as you turn and unbuckle your seatbelt.

You look up at your porch and find your mother squinting down at you. She has a dish-towel clad hand pressed against her full hip, and her warm gaze scans over the pair of you knowingly.

When her expression changes, the delighted smile on her face creating crow’s feet, you recognise what’s coming before she’s even opened her mouth.

A few weeks ago, before his presence infused all this sweetness into your bones, you probably would’ve turned to him at this stage and pleaded he refuse.

Now, however…

“Rafe!” You mother calls out, gesturing for you to roll down the window. “Have you had dinner yet, sweetheart?”

“Not yet, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he answers, leaning forward to send her that handsome smile of his.

It’s a compromising position, his cheek close enough to press against yours, and you’re awash with the heat of his torso as it occupies the personal space in front of you. You swallow.

"Well then," she responds, "you'll have to stay and have it with us."

The arm he's wrapped around your headrest relaxes, his fingers brushing over your shoulder intermittently. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” your mother dismisses, waving the dish-towel around. “If you help me make the last few bits, you’ll be doing the opposite of imposing.”

Rafe hesitates momentarily, his eyes flicking to your face for approval. It’s only then that he’s able to recognise the closeness; his pupils flex a little, just enough to make you swallow once more.

You’re okay with this? He seems to ask.

You shrug. It appears all the confirmation he needs to shift the gear into park and release the ignition, his close proximity wavering.

And he walks the short walk to your porch behind you, his pleased expression hidden, unaware of the look of exasperation you’re sending to your mother.

She raises her eyebrows reproachfully. It’s only polite, they seem to say, as if we’re doing him a favour. As if Rafe Cameron doesn’t live in the most expensive house on the island, no doubt equipped with a private chef—a miscellany of fancy dinner items.

Maybe you’re embarrassed by the mediocrity of your own home, on the cusp of the Eight with enough roots to belong to the Cut. And you know it’s silly, thinking this way; terrifying too, because since when did you care what Rafe Cameron thought of you?

The fact that you’re grappling with these emotions must show on your face, because Rafe pulls close once the three of you are in the kitchen, ducking his head to your ear.

Goosebumps bloom where his warm breath fans over your skin. “Are you sure you’re good with this?”

You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but you sort of hate that he knows this is affecting you at all. You breath out a scoff, breaking away from him deftly. “It’s not a big deal,” you lie, sending him a stern look. “Drop it, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies, raising his arms in surrender. Then, he shifts his attention to your mother, who’s grabbing a bunch of fresh vegetables from the fridge.

“Think you can handle chopping duty, Rafe?” She asks, handing them over to him with a smile.

“Yes ma’am,” he repeats, and then he raises his eyebrows at you, his blue eyes filled with mirth. “So this is where you get it from, huh?”

“Ma’am,” you mother echoes, nodding approvingly. “I like it.”

After she’s enlisted your help in making the salad dressing, she can’t help but hover over the pair of you, throwing jibes as she pleases.

“So Rafe,” she says, ignoring your stern look, “Y/N tells me you’re captain of the football team, on top of being head boy. Your parents must be pretty proud of you, huh?”

Rafe’s features falter. There’s a split second where the hand that’s chopping away at the lettuce freezes in place; it’s a subtle pause, but you’re in tune enough to recognise it despite your mother’s ignorance.

“Maybe,” he answers finally, quick to plaster a smile back onto his face. “Though they do tend to have pretty high expectations.”

“And I’m sure you’re meeting all of them,” your mother dismissed airily, her bright eyes warm. “Do you know where you want to end up next year?”

“UNC,” he replies automatically. “Wanna stay reasonably close to my family, you know?”

You frown at this, sending him a questioning glance. From the little Rafe has disclosed about his father, it’s clear that he’s a bit of a tyrant—why would he wants to stick around here for him?

He turns his head in tandem, somehow reading your thoughts. “Wheezie,” he adds, looking back to your mother. “I know my dad’ll take care of Sarah just fine, but me and Wheez tend to get a little bit forgotten.”

“And Wheezie and Sarah are your younger sisters?” Your mother asks.

“Uh-huh,” he affirms, returning his gaze to the chopping board. “But anyway, I’ll probably apply to some of the other colleges on the East Coast, too, just in case I don’t manage to snag one of UNC’s football scholarships.”

“I’m sure your grades’ll get you through,” you say then, unable to help yourself. There’s a pause as two pairs of eyes descend on you, Rafe’s a little surprised, your mother’s on the smug side.

“Careful, Y/L/N,” Rafe teases, nudging your shoulder with his. “That was almost a compliment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully. “The dumb frat boy act may work your friends, but I know you pull more A-grades than all of them combined.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, a jibe. “More keeping tabs, huh?”

You shrug, mock-nonchalant, tapping the side of your nose conspiratorially. It transforms Rafe’s expression into something roguish, full of mischief, and he ducks his head slightly, feigning a challenge. “You’re right though,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m coming for your title, Miss Future Valedictorian.”

“So that’s why you didn’t want me studying this weekend!” You exclaim, faux-affronted.

“It’s also why we can’t go on study dates together,” he affirms, nodding soberly.

You furrow your brow. “You’ve lost me, Cameron.”

He raises his eyebrows significantly. “Too distracting, Y/L/N, keep up.”

It throws you, the ease with which he admits to this, your mother his witness. You try to dismiss it with a scoff, though the sound that comes out of your mouth is far weaker. “Anyway,” you glance down at the concoction in front of you, cheeks too-warm, “dressing’s ready.”

—

Rafe stays far longer than you expect him to.

He tackles your mother’s interrogatory remarks like a champion, deflecting as necessary. And he’s polite about it all, effortlessly charming, asking just the right number of personal questions���making your heart swell with his thoughtfulness.

And it’s terrifying, really, when dusk falls and he’s still here. Burnt ochre transforms into deep, purple hues, and it’s only then that your mother acquiesces and lets him go.

“Thank you again for dinner Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says, halted at your door with a handsome grin on his face.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Rafe!” She answers delightedly, sending him a playful wink. “Especially when you joke about the fact that I look thirty.”

“Sisters!” He insists, looking between the pair of you solemnly. “Seriously, Mrs. Y/L/N. Love your work.”

Her smile extends from her lips to the sides of her crinkly eyes, crow’s feet shining through. “Give your family my best.”

He nods kindly, and she turns, disappearing around the corner and leaving you to close the door.

Just you and him on your porch, now. The stygian sky descends on the scene like velvet, and the silence reclines, allowing your gaze to fall over him in paces.

His too, agonising over everything from the curl of your lashes to the osculate between your lips. The smooth column of your throat, illuminated by the dim glow of your porch lamp.

“Thank you,” he murmurs finally, breaking the silence. (He knows, if he hadn’t, the urge to kiss you would’ve grown unbearable.) “For tonight. I haven’t sat down for a meal like that in a while.”

You’re quietly surprised by the revelation, and in the beat that follows, his figure blurs around the edges. He’s proximal, though not proximal enough. And his once-damp hair is now fluffy with static, his taut muscles ever-present, his torso like a body heat furnace.

One step forward, and he’d be able to press you against your front door and kiss you. You swallow thickly.

“Don’t thank me,” you say quietly, willing yourself to look up at him. “It was fun.”

Another pause. He’s staring down at you with this intensity that makes your cheeks burn, and you find yourself grappling for purchase on something—anything, overwhelmed by his closeness.

“If only you were always like this,” you add, trying to tease though sounding a little weaker than you want to.

Rafe’s forearms are bare, rougher in the chill. He crosses them over his chest, leaning into the column of your porch, closer. “Like what?”

His warm breath unspools. He’s softer like this, at your doorway after dinner, his thick brows raised and skin awash in yellow light.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, looking away without meaning to. “Sweet.”

“Sweet?” He echoes, his voice lower, rougher. “I’m always sweet, Y/L/N.”

“That’s not true,” you whisper. You’re aware that he’s inched infinitesimally closer.

“To you,” he rasps, “I am.”

He pushes off the column of your porch then, ducking his head until it’s at eye-level with yours. When his rough palm finds the contour of your jaw, you let out a shaky breath, your heart a mess.

“Rafe,” you warn.

“Y/N…” he echoes, his finger sweeping over your warm cheek.

[first-edition]

Firework Confession

Billy Hargrove x reader

Sum-You take billy out to the firework show and he finally opens up to you about everything, his mom, his feelings for you and why it’s only you have cares about. 

CW- trauma, mention of abuse, kissing, cussing, mention of alcohol, use and mention of smoking, confession.

You giggle as you take billy by the hand and lead him over to the edge of the Parking structure. 

“Y/n think we gotta hurry.” He says chuckling at your actions. 

“fire works are starting in a bit we gotta get the best spot.” You say. You lean against the railing looking up at the sky all the stars and city lights beyond. 

“here you’re fucking stupid for not bringing a jacket.” He says taking his off as hes got a flannel under. He wraps it around you ceasing your slight shivering. The smell of his cologne and leather fill your nose such a comforting smell.

“I wish it was like this all the time.” Billy says you look over to him as he take out a pack of cigarettes and pulls one out. 

“like what?” You ask. He sighs placing one between his lips and shakes his head. He walks to his car grabbing a stray match and the two bottles of corona then walks back to you. He waves his finger telling you to come to him and you listen. 

He hands you the bottles before leaning close to your chest stricking the match on the necklace he used to wear but gave to you. He lights his cig putting the match you and blows the smoke out. 

“billy?” You ask. He licks his lips leaning against the edge. 

“like this you know…just me and you, no one to come in a fuck shit up? Im only….” He pauses. 

“im only like this, myself, with you.” He says you put the bottles down moving closer to him. As he drags out another breath of smoke. Blowing it to the side. 

“my uh..my folks they are the best people.” He says 

You already knew about Billy’s mother leaving and how its just him his father and max. His fathers current girlfriend living with them. 

“a couple weeks ago i told you dropped the bar on my side yeah?” He says you nod. 

“i didn’t. I am that stupid to do it but-my dad he like to throw me and max around. I take most of it so she dosnt get hurt but i cant always protect her. That’s why im always at yours.” He says you look up at him. 

“the black eye wasn’t football either?” You ask he shakes his head. You nod. A tear falls down his cheek. You reach your hands you brushing your thumb against his cheek and smiling at him. He sniffs and takes another breath if smoke holding it for a second before breathing it out.

“Billy..w-why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You ask.

“Its not important.” He says.

“Of course it’s Important!? You’re important. You’re important to me.” You say.

He chuckles shaking his head leaning against the railing.

“Damn baby you’re gonna make me blush.” He chuckles reverting back to his Billy mask.

“I mean it Hargrove.” You say lightly punching his chest your fist comes incontact with his pec and he takes a hold of your wrist keeping it there. Your fist open letting your palm rest against him.

“When my mom left she’d gone with no warning just one feat got up and left. She that was the first time my pops really beat the shit outta me. Max was just a baby…I remeber staying up all night in her room making sure he wouldn’t come in and do that same to her.” He says his fingers brushing against your arm. Once again inhaling before throwing the cig off the edge.

“When I saw Nate bothering you at the party I didn’t think much until he put his hands you. I didn’t want anyone, friend of or other wise to fucking touch my girl.” He says as you move closer to him a small smile forming on your lips.

“You’re so important to me. You’re kind to me and tell when what I do wrong without being a bitch, you take care of me and you’re..your so so good to me….I lo-“ you wrap your arms around his neck kissing him deeply he kisses you back just as soon as you do.

His hands grip im your waist. The loud boom of a fire work and a bright colorful light pulls you away as you look up at the show starting. Bill moves your face back to him keeping you looking at him.

He smirks looking down at you.

“I love you y/n…I don’t want anyone else telling you those words I just want you.” He says you smile placing you hand on his cheek brushing your thumb against his skin.

“I love you too billy” you take away your hand balling it into a fist and lightly punch his arm.

“Took you long enough!” You giggle he chuckles and nods.”

“Sorry.” He says gripping your waist pulling you into him pressing his lips against yours once more.

[blueicequeen19]

Patience is Virtue Pt. 2

Warnings: stalker Rafe, finger action in a car

Part Three

It’s been two days since she told me she had a child and fled. I stood on her doorstep for another ten minutes before I followed her to see for myself.

I watched from a far as she went to Scooter’s widows house and picked up an infant. Not just a kid. An infant. In a fucking carrier and everything.

For a moment I’m defeated. This changed things. But as I watch her load up her child and drive back to her apartment, I realize there’s nothing stopping me. I’m in. She could have ten kids and severe debt and buck teeth. I didn’t care.

If anything I had more to gain now.

A family.

Which brought up the sudden thought of the child’s father. Where was he and how do I keep him out of the picture? I’m suddenly thrown into a fantasy of her swollen and pregnant with my child. I’ve heard pregnant pussy is the best pussy and now my dick is painfully hard. Blue balls were a pain in the ass, even worse when you’re driving.

I can’t stay away now. So like a creep, I wait until it’s well after midnight and the lights are all off before I climb up the sketchy fire escape. There’s nothing more than a sheer curtain over her bedroom window and I can see right in. There’s a crib up against one wall next to her dresser and a mattress and box spring against the other wall.

The urge to steal them both away and give them everything is strong. She deserved better. Suddenly there’s a wail like nothing I’ve ever heard before and she bolts upright in bed then throws the blanket off as she goes to the crib. Her ass is covered in nothing but a tiny pair of panties and an oversized shirt hangs off her shoulders. I palm my cock through my jeans, willing the fucker to go down for a second.

I watch as she tugs the shirt down and shoves her nipple into the banshees mouth. I’m mesmerized by the act. And jealous. Now I want those nipples in my mouth and to know what she tastes like.

I pull my cock out, the pain too much to bare. She tugs her shirt off like she’s hot, leaving herself in nothing but her panties and I nut in less than five strokes. Like a horny fucking teenager who just got to second base. But fuck did it feel good. So good I almost groaned out loud, giving myself away.

I can’t look away even after wiping off my hand, although most of my cum went between the metal grates, and tucking myself away. My dick was still hard and I was still enchanted by her. It was beyond beautiful seeing her as a mother.

I had to have her. I didn’t care how or why or when but I would. I needed to find out if she was on any birth control. Where the kids father was. Then get her pregnant with my spawn as soon as possible. And keep her that way. I wanted a fucking football team of her babies.

She’d be mine. One way or another.

The next day I get cornered by Kelce over my sudden disappearance all the time. He’s worse than a high school kid over drama. I wish the fucker had a hobby or a life outside of intruding on mine and bumming coke off me. The only reason I keep him around is because of his family ties and he’s handy in a fight. Other than that, I’m not sure where his loyalties lie.

"Dude, you've been distant for weeks. Where the fuck have you been? You never respond in the group chat. You’re never home." Kelce presses, following me down the stairs and into the kitchen. Maybe I could trip him and get away with it.

"Some of us work, Kelce." I snap. Breakfast is laid out on the counter but I don't eat anything. I needed to save my stomach for the diner when I see her but Kelce dives right in like the mooch he is. His plate is piled high as he sits down and I know this is my only chance to leave without being followed. Food and pussy is all he cares about.

"You don't work. It's a chick isn't it? You getting some pussy, Rafe?" Just hearing Kelce talk about her sets my teeth on edge. I'd rather knock his teeth down his throat.

"No, it’s your mom. Now fuck off." Kelce glares at me with his mouth full of food but I ignore him as I turn around and walk out. I was going to have to start driving a different car. One less noticeable because Kelce will no doubt try to find out whatever I'm up to. Ward and Rose are in the Bahamas again so I take her car. No one gives a shit about a plain sedan.

Thirty minutes later, I show up at the diner. The door chimes as I walk in and her head jerks up from across the room to look at me. I smile and she blushes. I take that as a good sign so I sit in my usual spot and wait for her while I glance over the menu that I already have memorized.

I smell her perfume before I see her although my body is so drawn to hers that I can feel her approach. She steps behind the counter and turns in a ticket before grabbing a mug and filling it up, adding my cream and sugar for me before sitting it in front of me with a nervous smile.

"Hi."

"Hi, doll." I sip my awful coffee as her cheeks pink up. Now that she's directly in front of me, I can see the exhaustion written on her face. Her lids are heavy but she maintains a smile. Another customer walks in and I mentally roll my eyes as she scurries off to help them.

When she comes back around to me, I’m fighting the urge to bend her over the fucking counter and bury my cock in her until she cries.

“What’s wrong, Rafe?” She asks, eyes wide and frantic. I must look like an animal right now.

“You need to take a break. Right now.” My voice is barely more than a growl but honestly I don’t care if I’m scaring her. She cocks her head for a moment before locking eyes with another waitress and giving her a nod.

“I’ll meet you out back?” She says, backing away slowly and disappearing through the staff door. I pull the car around back and park so I’m facing away from the building. She gets in, looking incredibly frightened but I don’t have it in me to care as I grasp the back of her neck and smash our lips together.

If she’s startled, she doesnt act like it because her hands immediately tangle in my hair and she’s up on her knees in the seat to get to me. My tongue dominates her mouth just as much as hers does mine. Teeth clank together. Lips are bitten. I’m all but consuming her through her mouth when she finally pulls her lips away, gasping.

Her eyes are watering and those perfect lips quiver like she’s about to cry.

“You came.” She whimpers, tears spilling and stealing the air from my lungs. I’d kill for her.

“Why wouldn’t I? You think a baby would keep me away?” Her eyes narrow for a second at my slip up. She never said it was a baby. Just that she had a kid.

“I saw the base in your car. I just assumed.” I add, seeing her visibly relax so I tuck some stray hairs behind her ear and cup her face.

“Rafe, this is so new. So sudden. I can’t seem to fight it though. I feel so drawn to you. Like you see me when no one else does.” I kiss her again, ready to fuck her for the first time in this car.

“I only have ten more minutes.” She whispers against my lips. I take that as my green light to plunge my hand between her parted thighs and up her skirt. Her panties are soaked. I barely brush over her clit and she’s moaning loudly, bucking her hips.

“When was the last time you were touched?” I growl, tugging her panties to the side and cupping her pussy in my palm.

“When I got pregnant.” She pants, grinding herself against my hand. I growl low and long. I needed to claim her. Mark her. Own her. Impregnate her. But we didn’t have time right now.

“I’m going to fuck you eventually. Long and slow then fast and hard. I’ll make sure you scream and cry my name every single time you cum and you’ll soak my cock and my sheets. No one else gets to touch you or look at you the way I do. You’re mine.” I plunge two fingers inside her and she cums instantly, fisting my shirt in her tiny hands while her face pinches up in ecstasy. It’s my new favorite thing.

“That’s it. My dirty girl. Letting me finger your tight little pussy on break.” She’s not finished her first climax before she’s thrown into another, her cries growing more high pitched until my ears ring.

I love it.

She gushes all over my fingers. Her cheeks are flushed, his lips wet and parted, her eyes squeezed shut in bliss. All from me.

When her eyes finally open, all dazed and droopy, I finally withdraw my fingers and don’t break eye contact as I suck them clean in my mouth. She shudders.

“Can w-we meet again after my shift? I feel like we should talk.” She murmurs, sitting back in her seat as she fights to catch her breath.

“Absolutely. But just so you know, I’m not going anywhere.”

Even if she wanted me too. There was no way I could let her go now that I’d tasted her.

[shoshiwrites]

hospital bed + Jo/Egan >:))))

Continuing my BoB OC Jo's MotA wanderings! From this prompt list. Bucky Egan/WarCo OC. Warnings for non-graphic medical references & non-graphic abuse.

She studies him, the glint of the low light and the drink in his hand, tapping her fingers along the tall glass of cider in hers. “I was…eleven. Got my appendix out.” 

He winces a little, but he’s still smiling. “Sounds like a swell time.”

“Just about.” 

She’s still thinking of the triage section this morning, the light through the thin curtains, the sound of squeaking wheels across the floor. The overwhelming smell of antiseptic underlaid by vomit. 

Silent, watching the doctor move from bed to bed, the stretchers being carried in by boys still in flight gear. The nurses tolerated her as long as she didn’t get in the way, and she didn’t, or tried not to. The last boy she’d seen before she walked back outside was a frostbite injury, so bad that they had to move him to a hospital. It’s warm and humid here, on the ground. Her blouse feels tacky between her shoulders, and at her sides.

And this is something he just does. Major Egan. All of them. Leave in the dark of the morning, and then you’re back here in a pub by late afternoon. Go up so high that if the Germans don’t kill you, taking off a pair of gloves or an oxygen mask will. 

“And how was that?”

She blinks at him. “Getting my appendix out?” 

“Yeah! Still got mine.”

He’d only been telling a story about a high school sports injury, after she’d tried not to look too hard at the new bruise blooming on the apple of his cheek. Someone had gotten mouthy, she wasn’t sure who. He looked like he didn’t want her to ask. 

“All I remember, really, is that it hurt a lot less after, you know? Than it did before.” 

He nods.

“My mother came, and she sat with me, and brought me little sweets, cookies, probably. Leftover spice cookies, from Christmas. I wasn’t in too long.”

“What’s your father do, again?”

“Uh, steelworker,” she says. “Was. In Pittsburgh. He came by, too, right after—”

She doesn’t mean to say that part, to tell a real thing about him. It seems like she’s remembering it wrong, hearing her father tell her she was brave. But she tells John that, like it’s easy to say, by a little light in the corner booth of a pub on the coast of a windswept country. 

And she tells him too about the day she went home, the memory that was more like her father. He’d showed up smelling like plum brandy and berated the nurse, and then her mother. 

He quirks his mouth a little, for a moment, like he wishes he could throw a few more punches. If anyone could fight a spirit, she’d say it was John Egan. 

“And now you’re here,” he says. Like it’s something that makes sense, from a little girl in a hospital bed to a correspondent sitting here, across from him, writing about a blinding freezing blue she’s never seen. Like a kid playing touch football in the mud, going to school with his arm in a sling he hates, to this. Up there, the indescribable sky.

She nods. “And now I’m here.”

A pint glass slides onto the table, and Biddick sidles up, his voice warmed by the beer. “Hey, Major.” He nods at Jo. “Miss Brandt.” The honorific sounds like zz's, in his accent. 

“Hey, now,” Bucky says, smiling. “This lady here’s a captain.”

Jo tries not to make a face. “In name only.” 

“Hey, they oughta know that, right?” Curt says. He jerks his chin towards his friend’s face. “That’ll teach ‘em, right, Buck? To say things about—”

The look Bucky shoots him tells Jo exactly what the fight was about. If they’re calling it that. Something to remind her she shouldn’t be sitting here alone. 

“What? I’m just saying—”

“Can it, Curt. That’s an order.” He doesn’t quite sound like he means it.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. But I think I ought to make this one an early night.”

“Let me walk you out.” 

The sky is still streaked with faded red and peach, still time to get back to her rented room before worrying about the dark. His fingers brush her arm, on the way to the door, but he doesn’t say anything more.

[askundeadbluelesbians]

Wide Right

CW: Mentions of death and grief, based off of real experiences

… Polly had decided she no longer liked funerals. She only vaguely remembered attending one in life: that of her grandfather, Vanya Geist, roughly around 2006. Of course, all of her other grandparents had passed on, but Polly’s grandfather’s funeral stuck in her mind for multiple reasons: mainly because he was the only one to pass not only when she herself was still alive, but was also old enough to remember it.

The second, and more prevalent reason, was because that was when her father’s drinking problem took a turn for the worst. Polly took to drinking herself not long after that, while still following her rule of thumb. In a way, she and her father bonded over drinking. Sure, she remembered fuck-all about her first drink, but he was there the entire time for it.

And now she won’t be able to share a drink with him ever again. His… well, second funeral was only a fortnight ago. He and her mother had moved on while Polly was on her road trip to California. Being so far away from family… hardly even knowing that her parents were close to moving on… learning second-hand of it happening.

Not only would she never be able to share a drink with him ever again, she’d never be able to play chess with her mom again, never engage in girl talk with her mother again… Never see them, happy together, ever again.

She could only imagine how it felt for Spencer, who was there in their final moments of moving on. How was he feeling? How long did he have to sit with this knowledge before deciding to call her? How did he feel when it turned out that they willed the house to him, so he didn’t have to worry about looking for an apartment? … How did he feel about now having no one to share this home with?

She spent almost the entirety of Sitting Shiva with him, so he didn’t have to deal with this grief alone anymore. Neither of them shared a word with each other in that time; they just knew how the other was feeling without needing to say it. Finally, after a whole week of mourning, Polly felt that she was ready to leave, making sure her brother was okay to be left alone in the house again.

So here she was, on her walk home, the December snow having coated the world in white while she was in black. The mourning period may officially be over… but she still felt empty. The sound of laughter as kids played in the snow did nothing to lift her spirits.

… Oh wait. That was no child. That was Scott.

“WHOO! Throw it again! Farther!”

“Alright, alright, Babe…!”

Polly recognized those two voices from anywhere: her best friend, Scott, was playing fetch with his boyfriend, Brian. They were enjoying themselves… and it made Polly wish she could feel the same way. She didn’t even need to say anything before both of them noticed her.

“Oh! Hi, Polly!” Scott greeted, scooping her up in a hug, wagging his tail. “I haven’t seen you all week, not since the end of the road trip!”

“Yeah… I’ve just been sitting at home…” Polly answered, not feeling the energy to hug her bestie back.

“H-Hey, Scott,” Brian called out. “Isn’t it time to meet with your subjects?”

“Ooh! Yes! I forgot! Thanks, bro!” Scott answered, kissing Brian before dashing off, leaving him and Polly alone.

“Is it really time for Scott to meet with his fanbase?” Polly asked.

“No. I just wanted us to have a talk,” Brian answered, sitting on a bench, with her sitting next to him. “Scott… doesn’t take talking about death well.”

“Funny, since he’s dating a zombie,” Polly halfheartedly chuckled. “I’m guessing that’s why neither of you attended the service?”

“Yeah. But, honestly, if Scott was there, he probably would’ve cried the entire time, because, well, you’re his best friend.”

“Yeah… dude doesn’t deserve to cry,” Polly agreed, wiping any tears that she felt coming. “Besides, he saw my mom as a mom too… Probably would’ve asked to Sit Shiva with me… and then run off when he’s told that includes no football for a week.” Brian gave a light chuckle in response.

“So… do you know when they’ve moved on?” Brian asked.

“Spencer said almost a week before we made it to Veranotone.”

“So… you were told second-hand.”

“Yeah…”

“… So was I.”

… Hold the phone. This is the first Polly was hearing of this: Brian actually ended up going through what she did?

“Who?”

“My grandfather. My mom’s dad,” Brian answered. “I was about… sixteen, I think, when it happened. It was a December day, like this one, back in 1989, right before Christmas vacation. I already knew beforehand that my granddad was sick. He was getting up there and the eighties were not kind for him. But one of the things you can credit him for? My love of football.”

“Oh?” Polly asked, looking up at Brian.

“It was one of the first things he fell in love with when he and Grandma immigrated here in the fifties. And he passed that love to my father, and to me,” Brian continued to narrate. “He’d take me to every game he could up until 1987. And that’s roughly about when I started to actually play football. In fact, I have an old jersey in my closet. Does not fit me anymore.”

“Your granddad got it for ya?”

“Yeah. He did. Number 56… ‘56 also happened to be the year my grandparents immigrated. So it was considered his own personal lucky number. And I picked that number when I started playing. We had actually finished my first season as a player when… it happened.

“My grandma, dad’s mom, was going to be the one to pick me up from school that day. Again, I knew my granddad was sick. So imagine my surprise when I saw my own mom pick me up instead. I… I thought granddad was feeling better.” Tears were starting to appear on his face as he continued. “He… he wasn’t.”

“Oh… Brian, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault… Just, it’s hard not being there to say goodbye yourself,” Brian concluded, to which Polly nodded in agreement. “Christmas was only a few days after the funeral, and it was probably the worst one of my either of my lives. The next year, 1990, would probably be the hardest of my life. I let my grades slip, almost to the point where it cost me my spot on the team. Days, weeks, months began to blur. Then September came… and Sundays started making sense again.”

“Hmm?”

“I very much latched onto my granddad’s favorite team. It was my way of grieving. They were good, but never really went far as they did this season. They made it to the playoffs, thirteen-and-three record, and every game they won after that felt like he was there with me.” A smile slowly began to appear on Brian’s face. “I woulda gone to Tampa myself to watch the game in person, but no way was some seventeen-year-old getting from Jersey to Florida, let alone get a ticket for the biggest game of the year!” Brian chuckled at his story, and Polly began chuckling as well. “So, like every other day that season, I was parked in front of the TV. But that day, I wasn’t alone.”

“Wow… that’s… umm…” Polly began, trying to put the words together, confusion forming on her face.

“I know it’s long-winded, but there’s a point to this story,” Brian chuckled. “Grief… it’s different for everyone. I could only imagine how my parents handled my own death just five years later… But, I swear until the day I die a second time, I felt him every time I watched football, every time I played. And I swear he moved that ball Wide Right.” Brian wiped his tears on his sleeve. “Grief doesn’t leave you. It morphs into the love you have for them, into the things you did together, into the things you continue to do without them there.”

Polly’s gaze went downward, staring at her gloved hands. What Brian said did make sense. He must’ve felt so vulnerable bringing this up with her. He… he trusted her. He trusted her enough to show her that he knew what she was going through.

“Fuck, Bri.”

“Is… is that your way of—?”

“Thank you.”

“… Well that answers that question,” Brian laughed, patting her on the back. “I’ll leave ya to your walk, then. Just think about what I said, ‘kay?”

“Will do,” Polly answered, giggling as she got back up and continued walking. She still felt down, sure, but not as down as she was earlier… Maybe she’ll go play chess and drink wine with Vera later. She thinks—no, she knows—it’s what her parents would’ve wanted.

[musings-from-mars]

@dragonslayer-week 2022 Day 4 (July 28): Yang’s Birthday

Yang had wanted this for years now. Ever since her family moved to the city, she’d wanted to take all of her new friends to see her old home in Patch one day. And what better time to do that than the summer after they had all graduated from high school?

Her family still owned the house, though her Uncle Qrow lived there now. They visited every summer, but this was the first time they’d gotten to bring along friends.

It seemed Qrow didn’t expect this many visitors. It was Yang and her boyfriend Jaune, along with Ruby and her girlfriend Penny, Nora and Ren from their robotics club, and Pyrrha, Blake and Weiss from student council. They had all ended up forming a sort of extended universe of overlapping friend groups in high school, so despite Taiyang’s best efforts, Ruby and Yang would not budge on bringing all of them along.

And with them all here now, they were off to the beach! Well, except for Qrow and Tai, who were now tasked with cooking for all these teenagers. They didn’t seem to mind staying out of the sun, though. And Pyrrha was a lifeguard! So they’d all be fine.

Yang probably never once stopped smiling from the moment they started on the half-mile walk from the house to the shore. Even just after setting everything up on the sand, it was already going better than she had imagined it. Blake had brought her surfboard and was testing the tides, Pyrrha and Nora had already gotten in the water, and Ruby and Penny were setting up a bot they had built to assist in sandcastle building (Sandroid, they called it). Once the beach umbrellas were set up, Ren and Weiss were content with staying in the shade and reading. That left Jaune and Yang to set up the volleyball net. It already felt like everyone was having a good time. Yang just kind of stood there for a moment, looking around at everyone.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, which snapped her back to the moment. "You good?" Jaune asked her, and she nodded, smiling up at him. He smiled back, then offered her some sunscreen. "Need help?"

She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows. "Yeah I do."

Jaune rolled his eyes. "You're just very prone to forgetting." He poked her cheek. "Not that I don't love the freckles."

"Just wish there were less painful ways of acquiring freckles," she joked, turning to let him apply sunscreen to her shoulders. Their go-to cheap date for a long time now had been going to the park to play sand volleyball, and Yang still struggled to get out of the mindset that sunscreen was only necessary if you were going swimming. On the bright side, she now had a very freckly face and shoulders, and some sports-bra-shaped tan lines, but that also meant a lot of sunburns. Best to get better at the whole sun protection thing before a dermatologist would need to get involved.

"Could always go at you with a marker," Jaune joked, gently tugging on the shoulder straps of her bikini top to get under them.

"Just draw dots all over me?" Yang asked with a scoff.

"Less painful, right?"

"True, but the authenticity," she joked, making them both laugh.

Once she was fully sunscreened, she returned the favor for Jaune. Gone were the days of him being the skinniest boy in the world ever since he quit football, but the sand volleyball and long walks together had kept him athletic, with some added softness to his midsection. She found it so cute. He always seemed bashful about it, but she was happy to remind him that it wouldn't be fair if he could constantly compliment her for her cute chubbiness if she couldn't throw the same back his way. Besides, all the lower body work he'd been doing, in addition to the added softness, meant he looked really good in swim trunks~ "There," she said, and as he turned around, she poked his nose, leaving a dollop of sunscreen.

He smiled and rubbed it in, then leaned down and kissed her gently. "You're cute." She saw his gaze trail down her body for a moment, and she smirked at him. He seemed to blush at getting caught checking her out, even though, as she had reminded him many times, he was allowed to. Expected to, even? Though it was yet another confirmation that this bright orange bikini was a good choice.

"Wooo, go Blake!"

Their attention was pulled away when they heard Nora hollering, and they turned to see Blake, a ways out from shore, stand on her surfboard and catch a wave. Yang remembered Blake asking if Patch's coasts were good for surfing, and Yang, not being a surfer, had no idea. But judging by how fast and for how long Blake stayed upright before losing her balance and jumping off, it must've been perfect. That was confirmed when Blake's head surfaced from the water, and with her wet hair over her eyes, she raised both fists and yelled "Yeahhh!"

The rest of them laughed and applauded her. Yang then glanced at the volleyball equipment yet to be set up. "Want to get all that ready so we can kick someone's butt?"

Jaune nodded, giving her a determined thumbs up. "Yeah, let's kick butt!"

It's not as if it had slipped their minds that Pyrrha was on the varsity volleyball team all four years of high school. Jaune and Yang just figured they could at least hold their own against her and Nora. This was sand, after all! Pyrrha wasn't used to playing on sand, right?

But alas. Even at full effort and full focus, Pyrrha was just too good. She jumped too high, spiked the ball too hard. Even with them diving around the sand, it did little to halt the onslaught.

For perhaps the fifteenth time now, Pyrrha leapt into the air and struck the ball hard. Yang left her feet and dove in the direction of the ball, but could only manage to weakly bump the ball off to the side and out of bounds. She just kind of laid there face-down for a second, smelling the sand. "Bluh..."

Pyrrha, to her credit, wasn't gloating. She was doing the exact opposite, in fact. "I'm sorry! Was that still too hard?"

Yang heard hard breathing above her. That would be Jaune. "Don't you have, like, a casual setting?" He joked to Pyrrha.

"This is practice level for me!" She insisted.

Jaune leaned down and fiddled with Yang's ponytail for a moment. "You good?"

"We're losers, Jaune," she declared.

"No you aren't!" Pyrrha said.

"Yeah they are!" Nora said, arms in the air. "Victory for team Valkos!"

"You're only doing like ten percent of the work," Ren, standing nearby, teased her.

"Yeah, and we won because of it!"

Jaune chuckled and helped Yang to her feet. "Maybe we need Pyrrha as our coach."

Yang dusted the sand off and chuckled. "I guess so." She looked over at Pyrrha and smiled. "That was fun! Man, I feel sorry for literally everyone who has ever played against you."

Despite the good natured tone of Yang's words, Pyrrha still had to run under the net and hug them both. "Don't get discouraged! Keep practicing!" She told them. Neither Jaune or Yang minded. Pyrrha's muscly arms were good for hugging, after all.

Following the mini volleyball tournament, Blake's failed attempts at teaching Ruby how to surf, and Penny and Ruby's presentation of their Sandroid-assisted castle creation (literally all of them were so good at what they do; somehow valedictorian Yang and student council president Jaune were left feeling somewhat inadequate), they all gathered under the umbrellas for snacks. It was about an hour before sundown, so their beach time was winding down.

But it wouldn't end without a surprise first.

Her dad and uncle arrived, carrying a box and a big gift bag. Yang tilted her head at them as they approached, but then started noticing everyone else smiling at her, and this box looked suspiciously like it contained a cake, and... Somehow, she'd gotten so caught up with how amazing today had been, she'd forgotten about her own birthday.

"Before we begin the cake ceremony," Taiyang declared, "a quick disclaimer." He pointed at Qrow. "Don't believe anything he says about the shirt he's wearing, he loves it."

Qrow, who for the record was wearing a pink and white floral button-up, a palette swap of Tai's orange version, grimaced. "He forced me to wear this."

"He's lying," Tai assured them, then handed the box to Ruby.

Ruby grinned at Yang as she presented her with the cake box. "Happy birthday, sis!"

Yang was beaming and shaking her head. "I can't believe none of you said happy birthday to me once today. I somehow forgot it was my birthday!"

"Well, we weren't going to spoil the surprise," Jaune told her, lightly nudging her arm. They smiled at each other, then Yang elbowed him back. "Ow!"

"You goof!" She giggled before picking up the cake box. "Ohh, what kind is it?"

"It's Ruby's favorite!" Tai joked.

Ruby gasped. "Strawberry?"

Yang opened the box and laughed. It was indeed a strawberry cake (also Yang's favorite), with the words "happy birthday Yang" and a very poorly drawn dragon off to the side in icing. She nodded and reached forward, pulling her sister into a hug first. "Gosh, thank you!"

"The dragon was your dad's doing," Qrow said with a smile.

"That's also a lie!" Tai insisted, blushing.

Yang got up and went to give her dad and uncle hugs as well. They then handed her the big gift bag. "Kinda just piled everyone's gifts into that."

"Wait, gifts? Mulitple?" Yang asked, opening the bag to first find a motorcycle helmet. "Ohh!" She pulled it out. It was shiny and gold colored. "This is cool!"

"Put it on," Jaune advised.

She looked at him to find him smiling expectantly. She looked around at the others, who all also seemed to have an idea of what was going on. She put the helmet on, with the visor down. "Ooh, comfy."

"You feel that button on the side?" Jaune added.

Yang felt around the sides of the helmet, then felt a button and pressed it. She gasped when a see-through display was projected onto her visor. "Woah!" She looked over at her friends. "This rules!"

Jaune laughed. "You can connect it to your bike, the speed gauge, the radio, everything!"

Yang pulled the helmet off. "This thing had to be expensive..."

"Which is why," Weiss spoke up, smiling as she took her big sunglasses off, "We all pooled our money to get it for you."

"Happy birthday Yang!" Nora cheered, followed by the rest of them echoing the same.

"Ahhh, y'all are going to make me blush!" Yang said, putting the helmet back on to hide her face, making them laugh.

"There's more in there, you know," Qrow told her.

"She'll get there," Tai murmured to him.

"What, I'm excited," Qrow said with a shrug.

Yang took her helmet off and pulled out another gift. It was a brown leather jacket. "Nooo way." She turned it around, and across the back was the most badass illustration of a yellow dragon ever, in front of a sunny background. The word "Dragon" was stitched in script across the shoulders.

"That one was another joint effort," Jaune explained. "I bought the jacket, Blake did the dragon illustration, and Ruby did the embroidering."

"This is so cool!" Yang threw the jacket around her shoulders. It fit perfect, and was lined with wool on the inside. "Hell yesss..."

"You better get me something just as cool for my birthday!" Ruby reminded her. "Like my own motorcycle!"

"Uhh, maybe for your next birthday after this one?" Tai said.

Yang laughed and went around, hugging Ruby, then Blake, and then Jaune. "Thank you all so much!"

Qrow went over to the gift bag and looked in it. "Uhh, hey Firecracker. Might wanna check the pockets."

Yang looked over at him to see Qrow and Tai both smiling expectantly. She checked all the pockets (so many pockets!) and found an envelope. "'To Yang...and Jaune'?" She read, looking towards her boyfriend, who seemed just as perplexed.

Tai nodded. "Go on, open it."

Yang did so, slowly tearing it open and pulling out several papers. On the front page, there was a heading that read "Leasing Agreement," and at the bottom, on the line labeled "cosigner," her dad had already signed.

"Is...this..."

"Since you two are off to college this fall," Tai said, "and I know you both were planning on just living at home, but..." He shrugged. "You two...you two have something special going."

"And best to figure out whether Jaune's a nightmare to live with or not sooner rather than later, right?" Qrow added jokingly, making the kids laugh.

Yang shared a wide-eyed look with Jaune, both of their jaws hanging open. She then looked back at the papers, skimming through them. It was for a one bedroom apartment. She recognized the address being right down the street from Beacon University, where they were both going to be attending in the fall. "You're serious..."

"If that's cool with you two," Tai said with a shrug. "I understand if you'd miss my home cooking too much."

Yang immediately ran over and hugged her father. "Oh my gods, thank you!"

Tai laughed, hugging her back as Jaune got up to join. "Hey, you've worked hard for years, Yang. You're gonna do amazing in life...even if I'll miss you."

They parted, with Yang taking a shaky breath. She wiped at her eye. "Thanks, Dad."

"Hey, I'm forking part of the bill, too," Qrow said, pointing at himself. "I think I deserve a hug."

Yang laughed and hugged him, then paused. "Wait...forking the bill?"

"With all the scholarships you got, paying for an apartment is gonna be cheaper than tuition would've been, so..." Tai shrugged. "Consider this a thank you for saving us some money!" He then turned to look at Jaune, who was offering a handshake.

"Thank you so much, Tai," Jaune said, beaming.

Tai frowned. "Xiao Longs don't shake hands, kid, come here!"

"Woah-!"

Tai pulled Jaune into a hug, and the others laughed. Once the chest-crushing hug ended, Jaune and Yang smiled at each other. "We're getting our own place," Jaune said, disbelieving.

Yang nodded. "That's...super cool, huh?"

"Yeah..."

"Can I take your room," Ruby interjected.

Yang laughed, smiling and sticking her tongue out at her sister, then stepped close to Jaune and hugged him. He hugged her back, and everyone aww’d at them. The two then separated and blushed, making the rest laugh.

“Well,” Tai said. “It’ll be dark soon. We should get back to the house, maybe have a game night?”

They all agreed, and soon everyone was one their way back to the house. However, Jaune and Yang lingered back on the sand for a moment. The others let them have some time alone.

The sun was setting over the water, the sky a pinkish orange.

“We’re going to live together,” Jaune said, still not quite believing it.

Yang held his hand, still looking out at the sunset. “Is…that cool with you?”

“It’s what I’ve wanted for so long.”

She looked up at him. The slight smile on his face, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned… Gosh, she loved him so much. Sometimes it still struck her how incredible this was, being together with Jaune, the awkward, sensitive boy she used to ride bikes with when he’d visit this very island as a kid. And here they were now, this same beach, over a decade later, about to go to college and beyond together.

Yang stepped into a hug, resting her forehead against his neck. He chuckled and hugged her back, cupping the back of her head. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“Hey Jaune?”

“Yeah?”

“In our new apartment…”

“Yeah…?”

“Instead of a bed, could we just get one of those gigantic beanbags?”

Jaune scoffed and laughed, parting from the hug.

“What? I’m serious!” Yang insisted, grinning.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

“Serious! I want to be consumed by the beans!”

He took her hand, turning back towards the house. “We’ll get a gigantic beanbag, in addition to a bed. How about that?”

“I’ll accept that.” She then kissed his cheek and smiled at him. He smiled back, and they continued on to enjoy the rest of Yang’s birthday.

[huffle-dork]

A SwapBoys’ Christmas

(Merry Christmas from the Manns and the Brody Bros! I wish I had time to write the others but Christmas is almost over! And these guys were easier to write tbh merry Christmas if you celebrate or otherwise happy holidays!)

SwapBoys Masterpost

It was a bright day at the Mann household as the children excitedly opened their presents. Their parents watched with warm smiles, Jackie holding Zara’s hand while she laid her head on his shoulder.

Ollie laughed as he zoomed around the room with his new Bro Fantastic figure- going up to the Christmas tree to try to fight the ornaments. He even made the punching sounds- but he was careful to only touch the plastic ones.

Penny laughed and clapped as she played with her new set of tiny dolls, ohhing at the colors and then knocking them into each other. It was great fun!

Kelsie squealed as she opened a new cat backpack she’d been wanting and was ready to show it off. But then her face fell as she looked around the room.

Jackie knit his eyebrows together, “what’s the matter sunshine?” The father asked.

“Where’s Uncle Chase and Alt?” She asked back, looking at her parents. “Uncle Chase always comes over for Christmas to see our presents!”

“Oh yeah! I gotta show uncle bro my new action figure!!” Ollie added with excitement.

“And I wanted to see Alt…” Kelsie sighed dejectedly.

Jackie sighed with a tight smile then got up to go bend down by his daughter and rub her shoulder.

“Hey Kels… remember how I said this was Alt’s first Christmas in a long time? Well- that means a big Christmas with lots of screaming and loud noises could be… too much you know? And well… I’m sure Uncle Chase would love to be here. But now… he doesn’t have to have Christmas alone anymore…”

Kelsie bites her lip and nods, “okay… I guess that makes sense…” she gripped her kitty backpack to her chest and tried not to pout.

Jackie laughed, “chin up, starfish! They’ll be by later with all your other uncles! You can all show off your awesome presents then, okay? But today… they need a little Christmas with just them.”

Kelsie does seem way more excited that she’ll see her favorite uncles soon. She perks up and then hugs her dad, “Okay Daddy! I can’t wait to show them everything! Do you think Alt will bring glitches?”

“I dunno sweetie~ that depends…” Jackie says ominously before he dove to grab the girl and throw her over his shoulder as he spun her around and jumped around with her. “Have you been naughty or nice?”

Kelsie shrieks with joy and laughs, “nice!! I’ve been so nice!!”

“Jackie please be careful!” Zara called but she looked amused.

“I dunnooo little missy-! Can you prove it?” Jackie grins, going to flip Kelsie upside down. “Cuz I could have sworn there was a cookie missing last night from what we made for Santa!”

“Dadddd! That was you! I saw you!” Ollie accused.

Jackie blinked and then gave a long drawn out, “ooooh! Yeah you’re right- thanks for keeping me accountable, Ol~!”

“Daddy’s been naughty! Mama! Take his Christmas presents!” Kelsie shrieks. Zara looks at the pile of Jackie’s presents next to her and gives him a shit-eating grin as she tries to lunge for them.

Jackie grabs Kelsie back up like a football under his arm and charges at his wife, playfully holding her down with Kelsie in the middle. “Ohhh no you don’t!”

The living room filled with laughter and insanity as the Mann’s crazy Christmas continued.

Meanwhile- in a flat a couple blocks down, a quieter more mellow Christmas was taking place.

Chase blew on his cup of coffee and took a sip before he set his cup down on the coffee table. He gave Glitches some pets on her head from where she was curled up on the couch before going to rouse the glitch also sleeping on it.

He lightly shook his shoulder and then threw a jumper at his face.

Alt cried out in surprise and shot up in a flurry of glitches, fumbling blindly for a second before pulling the sweater off. He blinks in confusion up at Chase and then looks a bit grumpy.

“Mornin’! You’re not hungover are you?” Chase asked with a smile.

Alt rolled his eyes and then stretched, “nah- Hen and I didn’t drink too heavily. Thanks for letting me crash here…”

“Alt, you’re welcome anytime…” Chase tried to push again, but Alt waved him off.

“Yeah yeah- I know- just…” He sighed and then looked down at the jumper. “What is this?”

“A Christmas jumper, bro!” Chase grinned. “Got ya one special~!”

It was a black sweater that had a white Christmas sweater design on it- except there was a robot and the words ‘ERROR 404: Christmas Sweater not found.’

Alt rolled his eyes, “ha ha very clever Chase…” He got ready to toss it back, “but I’m not wearing-“

“Ya gotta wear it if you want your other presents~” Chase added smugly.

Alt froze and then gapped at Chase, “what? But I- I couldn’t get you-!”

Chase waves him off and then shoves him towards the bathroom, “no arguing! Now go get changed!”

Alt was in too much shock to argue as he stumbles into the bathroom. He blinks at his reflection and stares for a second. He then sighs and pulls off his shirt from last night and pulls on the jumper. It’s soft… and it really does fit him. He smiles a bit. Then- he looks at his mask. He touches it thoughtfully and then, he slowly takes it off and shoves it in his pocket.

…he doesn’t need it today.

Alt then quietly slinks out of the bathroom and into the living room, feeling more exposed than normal. Which makes his cheeks and ears tint red.

Chase looks up and blinks a bit in surprise at seeing Alt’s neck. But he quickly shakes it off and smiles. “Looking good, baby bro!”

Alt flushes brighter red. “Shut up…”

He flops down onto the couch and crosses his arms. Chase goes to grab a pretty big box out from under the tree and sets it down in front of Alt on the coffee table. Alt looks at it with wide eyes as he glitches to the edge of his seat and looks at Chase with an expression close to guilt.

“C-Chase… i can’t- I couldn’t possibly…!”

“Alt please.” Chase interrupts, “just- open this one. I didn’t have a lot of money this year anyways but… I just had to get my brother a proper Christmas present… especially after we just got you back.”

Alt looks away and guiltily rubs his arm. He was still mentally healing from being Impulse. He still felt horrible for everything he did. That’s why… Chase has offered time and time again to let Alt stay here permanently. But he couldn’t bring himself to… he felt he had way too much to atone for.

But, if Chase really wanted this then… he sighs and goes to unwrap the box. It’s huge! And wrapped in a shiny green blue wrapping paper. Alt tears through the paper and goes to open the box and inside there’s…

It’s a giant comforter, black with green numbers on it. No- not just any numbers… It was binary. Alt opened the box more to find a pillow case too- and he recognized the string of letters in brighter green. It just said ‘pillow’. He chuckled a bit and felt the warm sting of unshed tears in his eyes. But, Alt tried his best to hide it as he looks back at Chase.

“…thanks, Chase. I… I love it- really.”

Chase smiled over his cup of coffee and then got up, gently grabbing his brother by the arm.

“There’s just a tiny bit more~!”

“What!? Chase-!” Alt tries to protest, but Chase dragged Alt down the small hallway next to the living room. He finally goes to open the door to a room that Alt really hadn’t noticed before.

Inside, is a simple bedroom with a bed pushed against the back wall, a closet, a small dresser and a small tv on top of it.

Alt blinks in confusion and looks over at Chase. The older brother looks down at him sheepishly and rubs the back of his head.

“It’s not much… used to be for like… exercise equipment and shit I didn’t know where to put… and I’m not trying to sway you one way or the other cuz clearly you need more time! But… the covers are for this bed… so… if you stay over you can at least sleep in a bed now…”

Alt feels tears in his eyes again but this time he can’t keep them back. He looks away as they start to drip down his face.

He did all of this… just for him. Despite everything- he wants Alt in his life again. So much that he’s moved his life around and made space for him… even if he doesn’t use it.

Alt suddenly turns and glitches to tackle Chase in a hug. Chase startles slightly but very quickly hugs Alt back with a small chuckle. Alt’s shoulders shake as he wets his older brother’s sweater with his tear streaked face.

After a few minutes, Alt finally croaks out.

“…okay.”

“…okay? …okay what?” Chase asks with a tilt of his head.

Alt finally let’s go of Chase and smiles timidly at him. “…I’ll move in.”

Chase’s eyes light up, his entire face soon following as he laughs joyously and goes to scoop Alt up in a huge bear hug. “Yes! Oh my god- yes! Alt!! I’m… im so happy!”

Alt laughs and lets his brother bounce him around for a few more seconds before he finally lets him go.

“…Merry Christmas, Chase.”

Chase smiled and wrapped an arm around Alt’s shoulder as they headed back towards the living room.

“Merry Christmas, Anti…”

Alt smiled, feeling warmth fill his whole body. He… he had a home again.

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

For the one word prompt how about 6+14 for Sam/Deena pretty please with a cherry on top??🥺

Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy it makes me to see prompts in my inbox! Thank you!

6 was "hoodie" and 14 was "rings" so hopefully this suits!

“What about this?” Sam pokes her head out of the closet, holding up the article of clothing that has caught her attention. “You have to bring this.”

Deena laughs, rolling her eyes as she flips the box upside, dragging the tape along the bottom and sealing it closed. “Oh yeah. So many memories.” She makes sure to draw the word out, just to ensure that Sam fully comprehends her sarcasm.

Sam looks at the hoodie in her hands, gray and worn, the words Shadyside Band in lettering that is fading from years of wash and wear. “I like it,” she says softly, not sure if her voice carries to Deena over the sound of masking tape against cardboard. She puts the hoodie to her nose, pulling in the smell of Deena that she’d thought, once upon a time, she’d lost forever.

Now it’s familiar to her again, clinging to her own clothes when she drags herself back home after hours of wishing that she never had to leave this room, this house, this person.

Deena puts the tape gun aside, turning the box over once more so that it’s ready to be filled with the things that are important enough to bring along. Sam knows if this process were entirely up to Deena, one of two things would happen. Either she would throw everything haphazardly into the boxes without any semblance of packing and organizing, or she wouldn’t bring anything at all.

“You should keep it,” Deena says, a crooked smile turning up one corner of her mouth as she looks over at Sam to find her still holding the hoodie. “It always looked better on you anyway.”

And maybe that’s why Sam likes it so much, why the idea of leaving the hoodie hanging left behind in Deena’s closet just doesn’t sit right with her. Because it reminds her of the first time Deena had given it to her, when they’d been coming home from an away game and it had been pouring rain, wet uniforms compounding the football team’s embarrassing loss. Deena had been carrying that ridiculous band hat under her elbow, the feathery plume wet and wilting much like the spirits of everyone else shuffling through the rain and toward the buses, and she’d given Sam the sweatshirt without even looking at her, staring at some point over her head as she’d said, “You look like you’re freezing” and at first Sam had thought Deena was just being a dick but the more she’d come to understand Deena, the easier it had been to see the shy, nervous, painfully besotted girl buried beneath the bluster. Sam had taken the hoodie because she had been freezing, her bare legs prickled with goosebumps and her feet soaked in her sneakers, and had nestled down in the fabric on the bus ride back to Shadyside and nearly fallen asleep with her head against the window and her cheek resting against the fabric that smelled like the girl who had barely said two words to her since the start of the school year.

Now, Sam pulls it over her head, slipping her hands into the sleeves as she goes to sit next to Deena. Deena is contemplating the empty box with the exact expression Sam could’ve predicted, the look that suggests she isn’t on board with taking the time to pack up any of this stuff, and the appearance of Sam beside her seems like a welcome distraction. “See? Way better on you.” Deena grins, playfully flipping up the hood so it settles crooked over Sam’s ponytail.

Sam looks down at herself and scrunches up her nose at Deena. “I’m totally stealing it.”

“Not stealing if I’m giving it to you,” Deena informs her smugly, leaning closer. “Plus, I’m being totally selfish anyway.”

“Oh? How do you figure?”

“Because I like the way you look in my clothes,” Deena murmurs as her lips brush Sam’s. “It’s sexy.”

Sam is certain there’s no hiding the shiver that runs through her body, is certain Deena doesn’t miss the way her heart stutters and jump starts itself again. She swallows. “You…your old band hoodie is sexy?”

Deena smiles. “On you? Definitely.” She puts her hand on Sam’s knee as she kisses her like she means it and, really, they’re never going to get anything packed at this rate.

Sam puts her hand over Deena’s, letting her fingers play across the rings resting against Deena’s skin. At least her touch seems to elicit a shiver in response, which makes them more or less even in Sam’s mind, though she doesn’t pull her hand away. “Are you sure about this?” She asks softly, staring down at Deena’s hand instead of watching her face.

Deena seems to understand that she’s not talking about giving away her hoodie. “About getting out of Shadyside? Hell yes.”

“No. I mean…yes...but…” Sam lifts her gaze, searching Deena’s expression. “Going with me. I mean I know I talked you into going and-”

“If by talked me into it you mean actually made me think that it was possible to get out of Shadyside and actually get into college then, yeah, I guess you did.” Deena nudges her shoulder, eliciting a faint smile. “This is kinda like my wildest dream, you know that right? Leaving Shadyside with you and maybe actually making something of myself other than a double-shift at the carpet factory. I should be asking if you’re sure, since you have to be stuck with me.”

Sam shakes her head, absently twisting Deena’s rings in a way Deena doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Not stuck with you,” she admonishes gently, and Sam can still feel the worry in her features, certain Deena can read it in her furrowed brow, her pursed lips. “I just…”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Deena says softly, kissing her softly. “I mean, I did just give you my hoodie. That’s like…practically a lesbian marriage proposal.”

Sam laughs, giving her a playful shove and letting out a yelp when Deena grabs her in response, wrapping her arms around Sam’s waist and pulling her closer. Sam feels her body relax instantly as she settles herself half in Deena’s lap, reaching up to take Deena’s face in her hands. The worry seems to slip away as soon as Deena’s eyes settle on hers, when she sees the conviction there that Sam knows mirrors her own, regardless of how many screaming matches she gets dragged into with her mother or how many times her father asks if she’s really sure about leaving because, you know, the world is a big place Sammy and you’re just a girl from Shadyside. Small pond and all that.

“Okay,” Sam says softly, letting her hands settle at the nape of Deena’s neck. “I’m sure, too.”

Deena smiles, nodding, letting her nose brush gently against Sam’s. Sam lets herself kiss Deena for a moment, two, three, before she forces herself to pull away and try to fix a serious expression on her face. “Are you trying to distract from packing up your room?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Just a little…”

It’s a lie but neither of them point this out.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

MerMay 2022 Day Eleven <Leviathan>

“We’re lost.”

“We’re not lost! I just...don’t...recognize anything right now.”

“That means we’re lost.”

“No, I know how to get back where we came from. That’s different.”

There was nothing around except miles of water. Sereia and Muirin had been swimming for at least an hour, and the sea floor had long since disappeared into shadowy depths below them. Muirin paused, looking around at the wide blue nothingness. “Really?” he said doubtfully.

“Really,” Sereia insisted. “We’ve just gone in a straight line from the shore, so if we turn right around, we should be fine.” In one hand, she held a small black rock, pointed at two ends to resemble a football, carved with strange writing. It was the talisman she’d gotten from her dad’s friend Marvin a few weeks ago. She’d barely been without it since then, and right now she grasped it tightly.

“Ehhh...are we sure we’ve gone straight?” Muirin pulled at the edge of his shirt. “I mean, there’s nothing around to indicate we have. Also, we’re a lot farther from the beach than we should be. I think—I think, like, something about merms let them swim magically fast. So, really, we don’t actually know where we are.”

“Why do you always do this?” Sereia turned on him, flicking her tail irritably. “You always start to do something with me and then give up halfway through! It’s so annoying!”

“You’re annoying!” Muirin snapped.

“You’re annoying!” Sereia repeated.

The two of them continued throwing that phrase back and forth for a good few minutes, trying to annoy each other into giving up. Until Muirin glanced down. He froze. “Uh...Ser? Is...something moving down there?”

Sereia looked downward into the darkness below their tails. She squinted. “No, there’s nothi—” A shadow shifted, big enough to almost fill up her vision. Then a long, low note echoed through the water.

Instinctively, the two siblings grabbed each other’s hands. Muirin’s hand went to his shirt pocket, where he was keeping his own talisman, and pulled it out. “That was...probably a whale or something,” Sereia whispered. “I think there’s whales out here.”

“No, it...it looked too...long,” Muirin whispered back. “And all...slithery.”

Neither of them could move. They desperately wanted to, but their muscles were locked. The shadows below them shifted again, and the note echoed again, loud enough to feel in their chests.

A current swept through the water. Sereia cried out as it pushed her to the side, quickly grabbing onto Muirin so they wouldn’t lose each other. Muirin hugged her tight in return. Bubbles rose from the depths. Far below, two pale spheres, each at least five times as big as the two of them, slowly opened. Sereia squeezed her sibling close, and wished that this would all end. Muirin held her back, and wished the same. They closed their eyes.

In their hands, the talismans flared purple.

“What the—you two?!”

The bubbles and thrashing water suddenly stopped. The low rumble of the note was gone. The twins opened their eyes...and saw they were nowhere near the open ocean. The sandy floor was inches below their fins. Colorful underwater plants dotted the rocks. And staring right at them, worried, was their dad, Chase.

“Dad!” They shouted in unison, immediately tackling him.

Chase yelped. “Oh—hey, good to see you too, but—hey watch out for the anemones, they’ll hurt you guys even if I’m fine—how did you get here? Does your mom know you’re here?”

“We were—we were just—” Muirin looked around frantically. “We were just—”

“We wanted to see you!” Sereia blurted out. “We couldn’t wait until spring break, so we took the bus to the beach and got in the water and—and—and were were swimming, and—”

Chase shook his head. “You two. Mom has no idea, does she?” He sighed. “Well, at least you got here okay. I’ll have to tell her you’re here—”

“There was a thing!” Muirin squeezed Chase’s arm. “I-in the ocean! Right below us! It was gigantic!”

Chase blinked, confused. “Huh?”

The twins began talking over each other, describing the thing in the depths of the open ocean. Chase looked back and forth between the two of them, barely able to keep up. “—and then suddenly, we were here!” Sereia finished. “I—how did we get here?”

“You...swam, I”m assuming,” Chase said slowly. “I don’t know. I was napping until I heard you guys knock over some rocks.” He put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Look, I know there’s some crazy magic out there, but you can’t just suddenly teleport wherever. Marvin’s told me it doesn’t work like that many, many times before. You guys probably just blanked out most of the journey or something and imagined you saw a <leviathan.>”

Muirin blinked, confused. “A...what?”

“A <leviathan,>” Chase repeated. “But hey, at least imagining it will probably convince you guys to never try this again.”

“That...that word doesn’t sound...right...” Muirin said slowly, looking over at Sereia. She was equally confused. Their magical understanding of merm-speech had never failed before, but right now... it was like that word wasn’t translating directly. “What’s a <leviathan?>” Muirin asked.

“Um...well, i-it doesn’t matter, they’re—they’re not real.” Chase’s tail flickered back and forth, and he quickly changed the subject. “I’m going to get in contact with your mom. Oh! Also, you guys dropped these.” He swam down to the ocean floor and scooped up their talismans. “Wouldn’t want to lose those.”

The twins said nothing. They took the talismans. The rocks sat lifelessly in their hands. They looked at each other, and then silently followed Chase as he swam away.

[mimikilstories]

Miracles of Arx Nubibus Chapter 6

Olivia let herself into the house, her key rattling slightly in the lock. The lights all seemed to be off, and she could hear the TV from deeper inside. Her heart felt cold at the familiar scene. A box by the door had two threadbare stuffed toys in it, as well as a doll who had lost most of her hair. A dark stain marred the doll's left arm and skirt. 

"Dammit! Can't you worthless louts do anything right?" A crashing sound came from the living room and Olivia put down the toys. Xavier seemed to be watching the football game as if nothing had changed. She clenched her fists and stalked toward him, barely keeping her emotions inside. 

There he was, next to two empty beer bottles. A can of some other alcohol was crushed near the TV, slight amounts of liquid seeping out of it. Three pizza boxes were stacked on the side table, and Olivia guessed that they had all been empty for a while. She flicked on the light and Xavier spun towards her, almost as if he was prepared to throw the beer bottle in his hand. 

"Liv! What are you doing here? I didn't think you'd get out of prison for a while yet." 

"They let me go for good behaviour," she lied. The truth was she'd broken out, and probably left some traumatized guards in her wake. 

"Really? Nice. Can you go get groceries? These are my last beers and I've just been eating take-out. A home-cooked meal sounds great." 

"Where's Keyla?" Olivia couldn't squeeze out any other words. Her fists were shaking. She knew full well where their daughter was. But did Xavier care? 

"Huh? Oh. Got a notice from the hospital that she died. Couldn't afford the procedure, so they just kept an eye on her until she was gone." 

The way he said it so casually made Olivia's chest swell with what felt like burning magma. Their eyes locked and she wanted nothing more than to make this man wish he'd never been born. But no. Not yet. She exhaled slowly as Xavier continued. 

"I packed up her stuff. The last of it's by the front door. None of it's worth anything, so I guess I'll just send it up to the recycling plants. The books actually fetched more than I thought they would. And the best part is now I don't have to worry about Social Services dropping in." 

"I'm heading out," Olivia muttered. As she turned to go, Xavier called out one last request. 

"Could you turn off the light, Liv? It's easier to see the TV." Olivia turned and forced a smile on her face. 

"How about I take those empty bottles for you too?" 

"Thanks, love. Could you make something nice when you get back? Like lasagna?" 

Olivia didn't answer, pretending she hadn't heard him as she flicked off the light and rinsed out the beer bottles. But instead of taking them out, she left them in the sink to dry. An idea had formed in her head. 

No, it had been forming for some time. Ever since she got out, she hadn't been able to fully focus on her revenge against Achilles. She had to know what had happened with Xavier. Did he feel any regret? Had his life changed at all? Olivia had avoided going home since they'd look for her here, but her curiousity had finally gotten the better of her. 

Xavier didn't care that Keyla was gone. In fact, he seemed happy that she wasn't there anymore. Hatred burned like a hot stone in Olivia's chest. He'd even had the nerve to get rid of Keyla's things, giving them no more thought than the amount of money they could get him. She'd been toying with the idea, but his attitude had cemented her desire. 

Their daughter was dead. And all he wanted was more beer and for her to cook for him. He'd get his booze all right. Olivia was careful to hide the twisted emotions in her heart as she stalked down the street. The elevator went down a couple floors to the store and she flicked her eyes over the merchandise. 

There. The drugstore portion. That was what she was looking for. She found the bottles she was looking for and brought two up to the front. The employee rang up her total and she internally cursed. She didn't even have enough money for this. 

Olivia smiled and looked the kid in the eye before reaching into her pocket and then placing her hand in his for a brief moment. He smiled and gave her change, before closing the till and bagging her purchases. She took the bag and left, relief flooding her. 

This Miracle really was the best. She thanked the purple god once again. 

 When she opened the door this time, Xavier called out to greet her. Olivia called back, keeping the hatred out of her voice. The beer bottles were mostly dry now, so she took out her purchases from earlier and setting them on the counter. Two bottles of rubbing alcohol. She filled the beer bottles and swished them a bit. This way, it would look like an accident. She wouldn't be arrested for murder. 

Yet. The murder trial could come when Achilles was dead. 

Olivia headed back to the living room and smiled what she hoped was a gentle smile as she handed Xavier the bottles. 

"Thanks, Liv." He looked her in the eye for a brief moment and started chugging away. Olivia nodded  and retreated to the back of the room, where she sat as if to watch the game. But the whole time she watched as Xavier knocked back the alcohol. When the deed was done, she made sure the bottles were empty, took the empty rubbing alcohol bottles and half the money Xavier had stashed away and left as if nothing had happened. 

Now she could really focus on Achilles. 

First she'd need a wig and some makeup. That way she could really do what she pleased. The plan formed more and more concretely in her mind as Olivia walked through the darkening streets. 

Soon the famous 'hero' would meet his end. 

It was a Wednesday. Around noon, someone had called the military to report a body on the first level of the Residential District. Officer Larsen scribbled on a notepad as a medical officer examined the degraded body and immediate area. Because of the beer bottles nearby, he was ready to rule it a case of alcohol poisoning and leave it as an accident, but something bugged Larsen. 

There were only three bottles of beer around him. That shouldn't be enough to kill someone. And two of them looked too clean. Something was nagging her, and she was absentmindedly taking notes on the scene - precise locations of every little object she could see. Maybe they should test the bottles for some other type of poison? 

"Well, another unfortunate incident," Sergeant Barron muttered. "Looks like he lost track of how much he was drinking." 

"But there's only three beer bottles there. I doubt he'd have the werewithal to clean up after himself if he died," Larsen replied. 

"We'll probably find some kind of drug in his system. Some people just won't listen when the pharmacist tells them that their meds don't mix with alcohol." 

"Right..." Larsen glanced around the room. "It still smells fishy to me. Those bottles look too clean." 

"I'd keep your head down for now, if I were you, Larsen. You're still under review." 

Officer Larsen sighed heavily. Just because she tried to do the right thing...

"Yes sir," she said slowly, each sound weighing heavily on her tongue. 

"You really shouldn't have messed with Colonel Evans. She's got it out for you now and you'll be lucky if you just get a reprimand." 

Larsen tried to ignore the scolding until Sergeant Barron grabbed her and forced her to look him in the eye. 

"I say this because I'm worried about you. Even if Evans did what you accuse her of, you have no proof. Now you'll disappear without any of this seeing the light." 

"Why do I have to find the proof? Isn't that why we launch investigations when a credible accusation is made? I had some circumstantial evidence, but it disappeared. But that won't stop me from doing my job. Now, Sergeant, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ascertain what happened to this man here." 

Barron stared at her for a while before sighing heavily. Another officer walked up to them. 

"Sergeant, I found what looks like an ID. One for a Xavier Orozco. Picture looks like him, but do you want to confirm it?" 

"Thank you, Officer Richardson. Anything else look important?" 

"Background check showed that his daughter, Keyla, died in hospital about a week ago. Shortly after, the girl's mother escaped from prison." 

"What was she in for?" 

"Theft. Achilles brought her in." 

"That jackwagon again..." 

"Unfortunately. The mother was not thought to be violent, but I don't know how else she could have gotten out. The officers in charge of guarding the prison at the time are all confused and incoherent." 

"Would she have done this?" Larsen wondered aloud. 

"If so, there could be more," Barron replied. "What do we know about this woman?" 

"Not much. Her name is Olivia Hahn and she seemed like a normal mother until she was caught stealing." 

"I don't like the sound of the prison escape. All the guards were incoherent? What does that mean exactly?" Larsen asked. 

"They seem to be utterly confused. One was muttering about blood, another how he was suddenly on fire. It sounds like a psychotic break, but this woman is possibly dangerous," Barron answered. 

"Should I put out an alert for her?" Richardson asked. Barron thought for several moments. 

"Richardson, take this to Lieutenant Galvan. I'll let him decide what to do about it." 

"Yes, sir." 

Larsen stared around the house for a while, trying to determine how Xavier could have died. Hopefully they found Ms. Hahn soon and could get some answers. 

[puthyflapps]

Just wondering if you still have clexa ideas rolling around in your head

I always have clexa ideas bumping around upstairs

Not a day that goes by where qb!Lexa and wr!Anya aren’t on my mind.

I think about Clarke and Raven at a beach party or sumn where a couple guys are tossing around a football. They really don’t pay much mind to the group until they hear them getting increasingly rowdy with the introduction of two girls who they quickly realize are the Woods sisters aka the school’s new QB and WR. The boys whooped and hollered in excitement and the girls simply nodded back towards the guys in acknowledgement.

It was hard not to have heard about the duo seeing as Lexa and Anya were the first female football players in the school’s history. Not to mention they’re hot and there’s nothing the high school rumor mill loves more than sexy football players. However, not everyone seemed to be a fan of the new students.

The two friends watch on in renewed interest as one of the guys reels his arm back and invokes all the strength he can muster to send the ball soaring in the direction of the sisters. It is unclear from their vantage point if the action was one of friendliness or if there was an underlying aggression to it but considering the person who threw the ball was Bellamy Blake, Clarke and Raven put their money on the latter. Although whatever satisfaction Blake got from the antagonistic toss was short lived seeing as the tall, blonde girl caught the ball with incredible ease.

It was impressive to say the least and Raven couldn’t help the stirring feeling she felt inside at the sight of the ball coming to land in the receiver’s right hand after flying through the air like a speeding bullet. Anya briefly inspects the ball in her hand before tossing it over to her sister and Raven is left wondering what is sexier: the one handed catch itself or the absolute nonchalance with which she caught the ball. Her internal debate is brought to a halt by the other Woods sibling flinging the ball back towards the irritated boy.

Bellamy had been relieved of his duties as starting quarterback and while some people couldn’t wrap their heads around that fact, it became immediately apparent to Clarke and Raven just why Lexa had been made QB1. The brunette’s arm strength was unmatched and it put the Blake boy’s silly throw to shame. Clarke was truly amazed at just how far the quarterback could launch the ball with what appeared to be a simple flick of her wrist. It left Clarke eager to see the quarterback in action.

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST:  @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @ssacalumsg0lden @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17​ @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos

TAGS NOT WORKING: @ayla-1605

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!