#It's called 'a licence to clean“

[elusiveowl]

currently trying to learn german cause I might go to a uni in jena for a month or so. picked a random german comedy show assuming it'd probably be cringe but I'm enamoured with how pathetic the lead character is

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers)  - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn. 

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips). 

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months. 

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation. 

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies. 

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll. 

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig. 

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights). 

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross. 

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air. 

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.” 

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks. 

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks. 

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns,  “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..” 

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.” 

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside. 

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts. 

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips. 

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.  

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was. 

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat. 

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick. 

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish. 

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure. 

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter. 

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious. 

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago. 

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving. 

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).  

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy. 

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward. 

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain. 

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice. 

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose. 

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on. 

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”  

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you. 

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch. 

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control. 

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck. 

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night. 

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall. 

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink. 

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes. 

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-” 

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office. 

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you. 

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by. 

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting. 

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too. 

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy. 

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.   

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.” 

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare. 

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.” 

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you. 

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness. 

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.” 

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes. 

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it. 

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task. 

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other. 

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards. 

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?” 

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight. 

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass. 

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body. 

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt. 

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much. 

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.” 

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.” 

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught. 

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night 

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night. 

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness). 

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself. 

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?” 

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition. 

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise. 

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine. 

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.” 

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.” 

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.” 

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.” 

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad. 

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live. 

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.” 

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline. 

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working. 

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.” 

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand. 

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs. 

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door. 

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks. 

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean. 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie. 

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola. 

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him. 

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip. 

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.” 

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger. 

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.” 

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew. 

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him. 

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.” 

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer. 

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too. 

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little. 

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.” 

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink. 

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime. 

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside. 

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently. 

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee. 

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.” 

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.” 

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real. 

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary. 

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out. 

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering. 

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door. 

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.  “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car. 

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on. 

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place. 

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both. 

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head. 

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone. 

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case. 

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne. 

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.” 

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you. 

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.” 

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.” 

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on. 

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain. 

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting. 

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag. 

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off. 

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.” 

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm. 

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours. 

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning. 

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening. 

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..” 

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks. 

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful. 

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong? 

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly. 

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary. 

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you. 

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?” 

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive. 

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue. 

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat. 

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever. 

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word. 

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder. 

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real. 

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp. 

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too. 

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere. 

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again. 

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth. 

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?” 

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper. 

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.” 

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek. 

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.” 

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did. 

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes. 

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way. 

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms. 

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break. 

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.  

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again). 

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement. 

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson. 

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time... 

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door. 

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager. 

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley… 

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car? 

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief. 

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?” 

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself. 

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter. 

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.” 

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip. 

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…” 

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over. 

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close. 

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car. 

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.” 

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine. 

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers. 

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along. 

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say. 

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say. 

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.” 

“You should be so lucky.” 

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss. 

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this… 

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops. 

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through. 

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?” 

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat. 

“You gonna behave?” 

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key. 

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass. 

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected. 

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?” 

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath. 

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way. 

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again. 

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on. 

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself. 

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green. 

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter. 

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn. 

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again. 

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?” 

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.” 

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?” 

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing. 

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…” 

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance. 

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there. 

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip. 

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap. 

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?” 

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him. 

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips. 

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you. 

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise. 

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat. 

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes. 

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath. 

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one. 

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time. 

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him. 

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more. 

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.” 

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle. 

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace. 

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.” 

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand. 

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..” 

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!” 

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?” 

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts. 

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction. 

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes. 

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…” 

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny. 

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press. 

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak. 

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit. 

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man. 

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping. 

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face. 

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss. 

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge. 

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter. 

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow. 

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand. 

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that. 

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs. 

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it. 

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are. 

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you. 

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder. 

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?” 

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full. 

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…” 

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager. 

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs. 

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him. 

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving. 

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside. 

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch. 

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest. 

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet. 

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks. 

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.  

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob. 

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze. 

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.” 

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door. 

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer. 

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers. 

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong. 

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod. 

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.” 

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.” 

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

[rpdepartment]

mundane headcanons

🌅 morning routine

at what time do they generally wake up?

do they tend to wake up early and take their time, or would they rather rush it?

how many alarms do they need to wake up?

are they a morning person?

bathroom first or breakfast first?

do they take a shower to wake up?

coffee, tea, milk or juice?

sweet or savoury breakfast?

what do they like to have for breakfast?

do they prepare their clothes before going to sleep, or do they prefer to improvize?

do they spend a lot of time dressing up, fixing their hair and/or putting on makeup?

🚿 personal hygiene

how often do they take a shower/bath?

shower or bath?

shower/bath in the morning, afternoon or evening?

do they use specific perfumes?

do they prefer their shampoos and soaps plain, or do they like to smell like something specific?

do they have specific shampoos, conditioners and body wash, or do they go with a 3-in-1?

what's their go-to flavor when it comes to toothpaste?

🍕 food breaks

do they have set times for their meals, or do they eat whenever they feel like it?

do they have a proper meals everyday, or do they tend to skip or get just a snack for lunch/dinner?

are they a home-cooking kind of person, or do they rather get takeouts?

if they eat at work/school, do they take time to prepare even just a sandwich at home before going out?

do they tend to have any make-ahead meals?

do they tend to have leftovers?

how often do they get fast food?

how often do they go to restaurants?

🧹 chores

are they the one doing most chores in the house?

which chore is the one they dread doing the most?

do they wash the dishes right after a meal, or do they leave them in the sink until it's impossible to ignore them?

do they have the dreaded "laundry chair" where they put dirty clothes on?

do they make their bed in the morning, or leave it undone until it's time to sleep?

🚗 transports

do they have a driving license, wether it's for a car or bikes?

do they have any other kind of driving licences ( planes, ships, buses... )

do they own a car?

do they own a bike?

are they the kind of person who think of their car as if it was their baby? perfectly clean, not a scratch, almost overly protective of it?

do they use public transports? if so, do they like using them?

do they like going on trains?

do they like going on boats or ships?

do they like going on airplanes?

📱 phone

what phone do they have?

do they use specific ringtones depending on who calls them, or do they use just one for everyone?

how often do they check their phone?

do they keep their phone's audio volume on, or do they prefer the vibration or? or do they rather have it silenced?

how many apps to they have on their phone, give or take?

do they have games on their phone?

what's their background and lock-screen?

💻 social media

are they registered to any social media?

how often do they log in?

how many followers do they have?

do they follow a lot of people?

how easy is it for them to block someone online?

what do they tend to post online ( art, videos, just starting fights online... )?

did they ever get in an online fight?

do you think they'd have callouts about them?

😴 sleeping routine

at what time do they tend to go to sleep?

do they take anything to help them sleep ( medicines, chamomilles, warm milk... )?

how much does it take for them to fall asleep?

are they a light or a heavy sleeper?

do they snore, talk and/or move a lot while sleeping?

do they dream often?

what kind of dreams to they tend to have?

do they prefer to be in complete darkness to fall asleep, or are they ok with a bit of light?

do they need the door or the windows open, or do they prefer them closed when they go to sleep?

what's their usual sleeping position?

where is their bed? with a side against the wall, in the middle of the room... ?

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞a better wingman

✰ genre : college au, best friends to lovers, fluff, angst and lame humor

✰ pairings :  minho x reader

✰ warnings : breakups, heartbreaks (ofc), reader and minho are oblivious, oblivious pining, mentions of yn although it's just once

✰ word count : 6.8k+ words

✰ synopsis : lee minho, the guy you knew inside out comes to you for help everytime, and you can never deny him, nor your feelings for him.

one.

lee minho tells you that he 'accidentally' broke one of his mom's favourite vases and he tried to stick the pieces back together using the school glue. spoiler: he got a bad scolding and got grounded for a month.

he tends to do the most unexpected things. like buying his best friend, jeongin, a thanos one-piece swimsuit for his birthday or talking to himself even though you stand right in front of him. that for sure is minho for you.

so here you were, cycling to his dorm because 1) you're underage, thus you don't have a licence and 2) you're tired as it is 1 in the morning. the first thing you do every night is check your phone for about 30 minutes before heading to sleep. however, today seemed to be an unfortunate day as the moment your head came in contact with the pillow you were knocked out. not even an hour later, you heard various buzzing from your phone and you were on your feet before you knew it, cycling in the cold without any jacket because lee minho experienced his third heartbreak of the month.

punching in the code, you slide your shoes off and switch on the lights since you knew minho preferred to keep the lights off saying it helped him relax. what you didn't expect was to find him sitting on the couch, with his feet on the table and a bucket of popcorn in his hands as he watched the tv.

"seriously?" you called out in disbelief making the said guy's eyes divert to you in fear. he lets out a gulp and attempts to hide the popcorn but because of his not-so-clean fingers the popcorn ends up scattered all over the floor and the couch.

with a scoff you get crouch down to help him anyway knowing it would be a waste of time in arguing.

minutes later, the dorm looks presentable to say the least. you sit beside minho on the couch with the tv playing in front of you.

you turn your face towards him and glance at his features, trying to figure out whether or not he had a heartbreak.

people with heartbreaks would be sobbing on their beds, stuffing food in their mouth or re-watching a sappy movie under the blankets.

lee minho did one of those things, but he didn't cry. nope. it was as if today was a normal day. but you knew it wasn't. not when you saw minho's proclaimed girlfriend announcing her break up via social media.

with a sigh you finally pluck the courage to ask him,"what's wrong?" his expression hardens and he looks away from the screen and into your eyes but no words come out of him.

"you were right. she was a bitch," he mutters saltily, breaking eye contact and letting out a smile to let you know it was okay. but it wasn't.

being minho's best friend since grade 5 you knew him inside out. from his flaws to his laughs, you shared all of them with him.

minho drapes an arm over his eyes, finding the lamp too bright for his liking, "just tell me how you knew it."

he looks into your eyes for an answer, but honestly you didn't have one. it was always like that, you being his matchmaker but he ends it in not more than 2 weeks.

with every relationship of his, you lose hope that he would ever notice you as something more than a childhood best friend.

back to the girl, you knew minho didn't like people who like to show their life publicly on socials. neither did he like people who would fake their behaviour just to get someone like them. and that girl was the perfect example of the two things minho hated. yet, sometimes you do wonder if you ever fit in his ideal type.

"just a woman instinct maybe?" you laugh it off but you know the first flaw you ever find in minho's girlfriends is whether they can treat him like the way you treat him. you had a high self-esteem and you knew that. but it was the truth wasn't it?

"by the way," he begins to say, which draws you away from the spiral of thoughts, "you never told me how your date went."

date? you suppose you could call it one. but that would mean you're simply lying to yourself. how is it a date when all you thought during that time was what minho would do or what is he doing currently.

"it was great. we decided to meet up for a second one at the cinemas," you reply with a giddy smile and he shakes his head in disbelief though you swear there's a faint of a smile.

"cinemas? really? isn't that too cliche for a second date? if it was me i would take you to cat café or an ice skating rink."

if. if only you were one of minho's girlfriends you would. but you knew his taste in girls sucked and he usually went for the ones who would seem like total red flags to you.

"cinemas aren't too bad either!" you protest and turn towards him entirely, with raised eyebrows minho stares at you in a way that tells you there's no way in hell your standards are that low that they're practically kissing the ground.

"okay tell me, did he at least pull out a chair for you? did he even compliment you more than once?" you give him a pointed look as you try to change the topic. but all that is forgotten when you feel minho wrap his arm around you and pull you closer to him. so suddenly, that you malfunction. you can even hear his heart thumping loudly against his chest.

two.

you're very much aware that the guy sitting next to you is a creep. you regret it so much for even agreeing for a second date. but hey! at least the movie's good right?

and before you could even register what's happening, there stands lee minho with fingers wrapped around the guy's arm.

"i knew i sensed trouble the moment you agreed on a second date," minho mutters and glares at the guy before grabbing your wrist and dragging you away.

there are various questions that run in your head but you don't let them out loud.

"get in," he says, pointing to the bus that arrived. with a sigh you get in and sit down followed by minho.

the moment the bus departs you look at him, "care to explain what happened back there?" you weren't mad at him. he just saved you from that traumatic date. but you wanted to know why he did that.

minho as usual grabs your hand and traces his finger over your thumb, avoiding eye contact.

but then he whispers, "be thankful i saved you from that creep."

now it was your turn to be speechless. you knew minho would never give you a straight answer despite whatever occurs.

"i can save myself, okay? i don't need you to save me minho," he merely glances at you before muttering a half-hearted 'sure' and looking outside from the window.

it was as if a switch clicked in you the moment you received the reminder to buy face masks. it wasn't your usual routine but you figured it's good for some relaxation. and today, you definitely needed one.

“min," you tug at the hem of his sleeves catching his attention and he hums in response.

"you know i was wondering if-"

"stop dragging your words and just say what you need," despite him rolling his eyes you drop the bomb. a second later he looks at you as if you said you wanted uncooked ramen noodles with a peanut butter spread. yeah, let's not go there since those sucked.

"please min! if i don't apply my facemask today i'll apply make-up on you! or maybe i can even-" your voice gets muffled under his hand, the one he wrapped gently around your mouth making you automatically run out of words.

"fine, fine we'll go. just don't even mention that incident," his pleading eyes almost makes you laugh but then you remember the situation you were in, so you try your best to keep a straight face. at least until you reach the store.

minho hated that one incident that happened in grade 10. you two were classmates + besties so it was normal for you both to follow each other like a puppy. one day, just one day when you were absent, you missed minho embarrassing himself in front of a girl. the thing was, she asked minho to give a letter to her crush. but minho being the oblivious idiot he was, he consoled her after he rejected her, making her lose her mind.

from that day on, you teased him to death with every opportunity you were offered.

three.

the next time you meet up with minho is a week later. he’s already waiting for you outside your building, leaning against a lamp post and scrolling through cat videos on tiktok with two coffees in his hand, presumably one for you and the other for him.

when you exit your building, you feel your heart melt at the sight of him. his unruly hair, his favourite black graphic hoodie which you’re sure he’s worn for the 7th time this month. the hoodie was a gift from you while you were out on a shopping spree.

there’s times like these when minho feels as if you’re very observant of him. wherever you go, there has to be at least one thing that reminds you of him. whether it be a cute cat on the street or a bucket coat hanging outside a shop, minho is everywhere. this feels like the main reason you can’t get him off your mind. he’s practically snatching away your thoughts and filling it with himself, that sometimes you do wonder if that’s the case with him as well. but of course, you could never muster up the courage to ask him such a weird question.

he looks a little embarrassed, as if he wants the earth to swallow him up right then and there. you suppose it’s because he’s been standing there awkwardly, having to look at people in the passing while waiting for you.

the moment he spots you, his expression brightens and he practically skips to you, after sliding his phone in his pocket.

“took your lovely time as always didn’t you?”

“you’re just jealous because you had to get me a coffee today when usually it’s my habit.”

“oh please, that’s not true at all!” he exclaims trying to defend himself but there’s no use when you laugh at the boy making him flush.

there are multiple admirers lining up for your best friend, shaking as they make their way up to him just to say ‘hi’ or purposely standing near him during college events. it also doesn’t help that his whole friend group were the campus crush from their respective majors.

minho was handsome, there was no doubt. he had a good personality as well so it was no wonder that when people found out you were his best friend, they approached you almost daily just so you could set them up with minho. at one point it got so tiring that you told them off, at least now they don’t bother

minho on the other hand takes it to his advantage, just like he does every time you visit a cafe. he manages to get discounts on shops just because he attempts to ‘flirt’ with the shop owners. you’re very much sure that by now, he has almost the majority of them swooning over him. but then again, can you blame him for being so ridiculously good looking?

minho pushes you forward by placing a hand on your lower back, while his other hand is clutching his coffee, guiding you to walk ahead along the sidewalks of your university.

“do you want to grab some food?” he asks as if he didn’t just have his lunch. one thing about minho is that he may not show his affection by skinship but he treats you with meals almost every other day.

“min i just had my lunch and if i’m not wrong so did you. We’re gonna end up getting sick,” you remind him, making him groan and place his head on your shoulder. you’re very much aware that minho is close, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. too close that you can smell his shampoo, and too close that you think you might explode if you were in this position for another second. jokingly, you shift forward making his head slide off. a glare is all you get as he follows you nonetheless seeming to forget the not-so-small incident

minho falls into step with you and throws an arm over your shoulder and he makes sure you’re on the safer side of the road, bumping you to move to the side

“nonsense, no one can say no to food. plus i’m paying so it’s a dea.”

you’re about to say your goodbye to your best friend, heels shifting to walk in the opposite direction when his hand easily wraps around your wrist, pulling you back to where he’s stood. you slap his hand away, “i’ll come with you only if you take the responsibility when i get sick and write down notes for me,” there’s silence surrounding the two of you before he clicks his tongue and lets out an eager nod making you grin.

“lead the way mister.”

you sigh out loud when you reach your usual outing spot, the korean bacon. the place is as usual least crowded during these hours which gives you the best opportunity to have great hot meals, served to you quickly. this was discovered by minho when he randomly entered the shop and found it isolated. since then the both of you hang out at these hours and especially on the weekdays since the shop owner is kind enough to let you both sit for long durations.

you and minho both greet the lady and she lets out a wide smile upon seeing the two of you, together as always.

“how are my favourite children doing?” she speaks, leaning over the counter to get a better look at the two of you.

“we’re doing good aunt. how about you? the place seems to be busier than usual nowadays,” minho chimes in and looks around making the lady nod in affirmation.

“yes, yes that’s true. my son introduced a new recipe for chilli bacon and people seem to love it. I’ll give you both a free meal of it. do you want something else?” after minho is done with taking both of your orders, he moves to settle back to wherever you’re seated when he spots jisung and changbin sitting at your table as well. he lets out a scoff as he out of all people should’ve known they both practically live here. changbin’s aunt is the shop owner so it’s no wonder he pops in for free food.

“not you two again,” minho groans out loud and places the plates in front of you. he takes a seat across from you and scowls at jisung who’s seated next to you. jisung simply smirks knowingly before shuffling closer to you making minho glare at him warningly and all changbin does is laugh at their antics.

“so to what do i owe this pleasure?” you question mockingly and turn towards jisung who clutches his chest dramatically, “oh dear yn i have tremendously missed you ever since our dear minho has kept you hidden.”

“i haven’t kept her hidden,” minho replies while digging for his food, making the other three follow him.

“so wanna know something that happened today?” changbin speaks up after chewing, making you look up at him expectantly.

“jisung gave someone his autograph!” you stare at him blankly not knowing whether to laugh or not.

noticing your expression, minho chuckles before speaking , “tell her the entire thing!” making changbin nod his head with excitement. changbin then proceeds to tell how a delivery guy asked for jisung’s signature for delivery purposes and jisung thought the guy wanted his autograph.

“seriously jisung i feel so bad for changbin,” you fake a pout but burst into laughter when jisung rolls his eyes despite a sheepish grin spreading on his face. your laugh causes minho to smile fondly as he stares at you. your laugh is contagious, and he knows it very well. he notices the way your eyes scrunch up when you laugh or the way you keep a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter and the sight itself is so enchanting that minho would do anything to keep looking. but reminding himself that it may seem weird to you, he diverts his gaze back to jisung who’s trying not to strangle changbin for sharing his embarrassing incident.

on your way back home, changbin and jisung quarrel over who’s more embarrassing and the sight itself seems too amusing to you.

you giggle which makes minho raise his eyebrow and he follows your line of sight before letting out a chuckle, “they’re so weird aren’t they?”

his question makes you smile, “weird yes. but in a good way i suppose.”

there’s silence as you side by side in peace before minho rants to you about his day. he tells you how he missed his alarm and woke up an hour late. then he tells you how he managed to even miss the bus but thankfully he spotted chan who offered to give him a ride. but you know minho would’ve gotten in his car anyway. the way his eyes widen when he tells something that caused him to be frustrated or the way he makes gestures using his hand— all of this is too familiar to you. because it’s now become a habit of his to tell all these to you.

you look up at him and look away when he meets your gaze. it’s moments like these when your heart makes you realise that he isn’t just your best friend. he’s much more than that. and you would do anything to keep these feelings to yourself in turn of a precious friendship becoming distant.

minho gets cut off when jisung throws an arm over your shoulder and changbin does the same to minho, “how come only she gets princess treatment? shouldn’t i get the prince treatment too?” jisung pouts and looks at minho who pushes his face away making changbin laugh out loud.

“if you’re a prince then i’m the king. since i always outshine you because of my handsome visuals,” jisung and minho look at changbin blankly making you burst into fits of giggles.

“if you both are prince and king; then i am a cat!” minho chimes in with a smirk making you shake your head in disbelief.

“that you are!” changbin says with a giggle but he stops when he notices minho turns to him. and without a warning minho is running behind a panicked changbin.

it’s moments like these when you’re reminded just how happy you are to have him and his chaotic group of friends. and you wouldn’t change it for anything.

three.

there you were, back at finding guys instead of trying to find a way to win minho’s heart.

“i’m home!” he greets out loudly with two bags in his hands and he wiggles them teasingly before making his way over to the couch where you sat.

“guess what i got?” he asks, overly excited which makes you bite your lip as you fight to smile. playing along with his antics was your thing. and minho absolutely loved it when you did.

tapping a hand against your chin you begin, “is it a pokemon hat?” he shakes his head in denial but with every passing second his patience runs out and he stops you.

“you’re absolutely going to love it!” he winks before passing a bag over to you. immediately, you dig your hand in it and fish out the first thing you grab. upon seeing it you squeal out loud and throw yourself over minho who manages to catch you and laughs out loud when you mutter a chorus of thank you’s.

“see i told you! i saw these operation true love printed polaroids and i immediately thought of you! you told me how much you loved it,” your clutch the polaroids close to your chest and before you know it your eyes trail over his face, outlining every one of his features. and even though minho can feel your burning stare he doesn’t say anything and arranges the grocery he just brought,just the way you like it since he knows you hate when things are misplaced.

“ramen or pasta?” minho doesn’t even have to ask but he still does it out of formality and grins when you point at the stack of ramen packets. both of you are the worst cooks in the world. so the only way you can survive is by feeding off ramen packets, especially the 1+1 since it’s much more convenient as minho explained to you the last time.plus you get those scratch off lucky cards, and even though you have 0.001% of making it the scratching is satisfying plus it’s something to keep yourself busy in, other than ogling at minho.

minutes later you’re seated beside him and commentating on kdramas because you’ve got nothing to do.

“remind me again why you always crash my place?” you say while raising an eyebrow making minho look at you in an amused manner.

“firstly, i get you free things and secondly,” minho leans to you making you cower back in response, his mouth moves to your ear and he whispers, “you love me, don’t you?” the words get stuck in your throat and before you know it minho smashes a pillow against your head making you huff since he had a way of messing up your hair.

“minho! i just brushed my hair!” upon your whine he just merely shrugs, but now it’s his turn to whine when you throw a pillow at him, quite aggressively.

“oh you did not,” you let out a shriek when he throws you on the couch and tickles your sides making you laugh out loud.

“stop-! my tummy aches because of you,” you mutter keeping a hand on his wrist while the other is resting on your hand as you stare straight into his eyes. minho, surprisingly obliges and stops. you’re very much aware that your heart is beating loudly. but it’s probably because you two were playing around? right?

“get off you’re heavy,” you joke and slap his back when lays beside you.

the last thing you remembered was falling asleep in lee minho’s embrace with his arms wrapped around you.

it was just some platonic cuddling after all. right?

four.

when you knock on minho's door at 11 p.m he doesn't question it. he simply pulls you in his embrace and rubs your back in a comforting manner. it doesn't even matter to him that you're getting his favourite green shirt wet. all that mattered at the moment was you.

“part five?” It’s even harder when he does things like this, little by little making your heart feel whole again he questioned, pulling back to examine your expression

“more like the finale, i broke it off with him,” you mumble and throw your bag somewhere near the couch before plopping yourself on it. keeping a hand on your eyes you block out all the light and sigh tiredly.

minho's eyes follow every one of your moves and he crouches down to pick up your bag and places it on the table before pulling out a chair and sitting in front of you, “care to tell me what happened?”

and you do. you tell him everything about the guy being an asshole and yelling at you for every small thing. but you leave out the main reason for your break up. lee minho. the man you were dating knew you were head over heels in love with him, and when you forgot your anniversary but remembered minho's one year working at a cat adoption centre,he broke things off.

“that’s it? seriously? what is wrong with you and your taste in men?” minho replied with an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“it's not my problem guys don't show their true selves during the first date!” you defended yourself but you knew you were at fault. minho took in a deep breath and his hand found yours. he held your hand gently and intertwined your fingers before looking at them with a soft smile.

“you know, when i first met you i thought you were another one of hyunjin's friends who just came to say hi. but when you shared your lunch with me, I don’t know why it felt nice having a new friend. and you were just so so different, you know?” not once did minho look up to see your expression. his eyes stayed glued to your hands.

“and you tried to be a bitch to see if i wanted to be your friend or not. how childish,” you mutter, rolling your eyes and minho finally looks up at you. his expression however, is different today. it's serious. there's no hint of sarcasm neither a wink nor smile. he just stares at you for a full minute before saying, “how about you start your part 2 with me?” he questions leaving you utterly confused.

“part 2?” he nods in response and tucks your hair behind your ear before confirming, “part 2. part 1 was of us being friends. part 2 can be us being something more.”

if you were speechless the last time, you’re sure you've lost your voice by now. your wide eyes stare into his warm ones and he lets out a sad smile upon seeing this.

“can we try this for a month?” he questions and brushes and holds your hand tighter making you lick your lower lip nervously.

“it's okay if you say no-”

“sure,” you reply, cutting him off and there you see his genuine smile growing as he shows off his teeth before ruffling your hair.

the deed was done, all that was left was the outcome.

was it real? or was it just a dream? your eyes bore into the ceiling as you toss in the bed for the nth time. your mind was still occupied by the lingering touch of minho's hands near your hair, or near your hand, or maybe near your back. it was a warm, fuzzy feeling and although it did get you internally screaming for more, you knew you had to wait. at least till both of your feelings were mutual.

just then your phone dings and roll over the bed to check it.

it's a message from the said devil.

sleep well! ><

it read. with warmth creeping up your face you press a pillow to your face to muffle the squeal that escaped.

it was finally happening. the guy who you had been pining on for years, insinuated for something more. and in hell were you going to let this opportunity run loose.

five.

minho sighed for the upteemth time as chan continued giving him scoldings, telling him how he shouldn't keep his feelings to himself and let it out.

but poor mino, if he ever let them out so easily, the people around him would be paralysed with trauma. especially you. he knew confessing his feelings just after saying he wanted you to try would come off as a shock to you. would get scared? would you think he's a creep? or would you straight away reject him? minho shook his head to get rid of those thoughts when he overthinks.

“minho,” chan sighed and sat next to him. he kept a hand on minho's knees and patted it softly, “look… all i'm saying is just go for it. after all, you told us she likes you as well right?”

“i don't know anymore,” minho pressed his palms to his eyes in frustration and chan being the good friend he was, rubbed an arm soothingly on his back.

“listen up,” jisung announced loudly and there was a fixed expression plastered on his face. one that made chan gulp anxiously.

“you,” he began and pointed at minho who sat straight, curious on what was about to happen, “if you don't confess to her by next week i will.”

chan furrowed his brows in anger and stared at changbin in confusion who shrugged as if he had no clue. minho stared at jisung silently, not sure whether or not to take the younger's words seriously.

“she doesn’t like you,” minho protested calmly, though it looked like he was trying to contain himself.

“yeah sure. and the one she likes is being a coward and avoiding all his problems!" if this didn't anger minho, it would be a lie. chan held minho back, as he was about to walk to jisung. jisung merely let out a scoff, “how long are you going to hurt yourself like this? how long are you going to pretend that there's nothing going on between you two? even an outsider like me, knows that you two are not only friends as you claim to say. man up and confess to her dude before it’s too late.”

the door slammed loudly after jisung left. and minho just stared at the ground before he felt two arms wrap around him. he didn't protest and just buried his face in chan's neck.

who knew the next step would be even harder than the first?

six.

when lee minho told you he had great ideas for dates, you didn't know if he actually meant it or not. but upon the first date, you're blown away when he takes you stargazing.

“none of your dates did this, right?” he asks with a cocky grin over his face even though he quite knows the answer. if you weren't too busy gawking at the view you would've shut him up.

“how did you even find this spot?” you ask ridiculously, making him smile and shrug in response, “it's minho's talent, sweetheart.”

sweetheart? did he like calling you that? yes. did you like him calling you that? yes. a thousand times yes. you clear your throat and avoid the way your face flushes and instead focus on the arrangements minho made.

the glow of the moon was faint, yet still predominantly illuminated the night sky. you let your eyes wander over to where minho sat on the grass with his arms supporting him and a carefree look on his as he closed his eyes in relief.

“you know i can feel you staring,” he mutters with an amused smile and despite his eyes being close he can sense when you walk closer to him and brush his hair back revealing his bare forehead.

“you look handsome today,” your attempt to flirt fails when he opens his eyes and looks at you with curiosity, making you continue.

“what I mean is that-”

“shh! enough talking. sadly, the night isn't too young today,” he cuts you off with a pout making you huff and despite that you oblige. you both lay beside each other, with his hand on your stomach as you clutch it and trace patterns on it soothingly.

despite the moon’s hazy presence, you are persistent enough to wait outside on the cold ground to watch as the transparent clouds roll by to reveal distant stars. grom your frame of reference, you can easily spot each beautiful constellation, seeming to waltz throughout the sky. back at home, such patterns couldn’t even dare to be seen in the sky; light pollution was prominent from where you came from. nevertheless, you feel the loving presence of the stars around you, knowing all too well that you are not alone. minho is always by your side. always.

you have always seen couples giving each other promise rings to stay with each other forever. to love each other endlessly and forever. to cherish each other forever. but, you never understood it. you always had a different way of approaching perspectives which were already meant to be.

you know that people can change overtime. so you also know that feelings can change as well. what about the promises then? would forever turn into a long forgotten past? and you were afraid of it. afraid of being forgotten.

with a sigh you try to get these thoughts out of your head and inch closer to minho who immediately wraps his arms around your shoulder and pulls you to his chest.

“what's on your mind, pretty?” he hums softly.

“what's on your mind with all these nicknames?” you retorted back teasingly, making him chuckle in response.

“nothing deep. except maybe i'm really thankful to have you,” he turns his head at the same time you do and you're very much aware of the minimum distance between you two. your noses are practically touching, and you can even see the reflection of the moon in his orbs. and it's surprising because he's your star. the one that shines the brightest in the entire sky. and the one that has always grabbed your attention no matter what. your fond staring is interrupted by lee minho, “close your eyes.”

“why?”

“just close them.”

“the last time you told someone to do that, you dunked their head with a bucket full of cold water,” you accusingly jab a finger at his chest, recalling when changbin was oblivious to his pranks and had fallen for them pretty easily. minho smiles a bit but looks at you back again.

“don't you trust me? just do it!” he whines making you huff out loud.

“jeez, fine. no murdering me okay?” you joke but immediately shut your eyes when he glares. you feel him slip something cold on your neck and he lifts your head up after adjusting the size.

“okay, you can open them now,” minho announces and rubs his hands nervously together when you open your eyes.

“since you can't see the necklace by yourself as it's a bit short, i clicked a photo,” minho flashes the bright screen against your face, making you scrunch your eyes as you try to read it clearly.

you feel yourself freeze momentarily, staring at the screen in front of you. you knew minho was creative with his gifts but you definitely didn't expect him to give you a necklace with the pendant of a paper that had been attempted to straighten but there were faint marks of it being crumpled.

as you stare at it for longer minho decides to speak up, “yeah, it's that same paper i crumpled and threw at the back of your head when i wanted to confess. but you, my idiot, thought it was for another girl. it was pretty dumb of me to not mention your name and i've been keeping it with me ever since, in hopes one day it would come in use. looks like today's a lucky day for me,” it leaves you speechless, looking up at him but he instantly breaks eye contact.

he’s wordless as he encases it, and it’s only now you see that something’s different about him. it's funny how two oblivious and idiotic friends failed to recognize their own feelings. this is a story you can tell your kids, you thought to yourself. but your heart squeezes at the fact he cherished so dearly.

you’re sure the nudge in your heart is easily seen in your expression. he looks so beautiful as always. his face shines due to the moon's light and it's hard not to stare. it’s even harder when he does things like this, little by little making your heart feel whole again. his smile seems too attractive today, and his hair is styled differently as well. It’s even harder when he does things like this, little by little making your heart feel whole again. he is the last piece of puzzle which you were finding ever since. though, the journey to it was a bit tricky.

“i'm really happy as well. to be witnessing these stars with you.”

he makes your heart ache with warmth and cheeks ache with laughter. you're sure he's the one and you lean over to him, wrapping your hands gently around his neck.

minho's ears flush at the action but he follows your lead, resting an arm over your waist to steady you as your upper body leans into his.

there’s a look on his face when he looks at you, and you only realise it now—the look he reserves for his cats, and his obsession over 1+1 ramen noodles. there is no better feeling than having the hope of reciprocation.

and with a soft smile lingering on your lips, you dip your head slowly while looking into his eyes for any signs of disagreement but there's none. seeing you take your sweet time, he impatiently captures you in a sweet kiss. his lips mould with yours perfectly, as if you were born for this. as if you were both meant to be. his lips were warm and soft. they parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside.

your eyes flutter close after confirming it wasn't too good to be a dream. pulling back, he let his forehead rest against mine and lets out a soft laugh.

“i love you so much you know that?” the words slip his mouth and he lets out a smile after finally having said it. almost as if this was something he had been wanting to say for a very long time. you look into his eyes, searching for any sign that would indicate any teasing, but you don’t find anything. you only find his eyes sparkling with something someone would name as mischief. but knowing him, you know it's happiness. and affection. and perhaps even engulfed with love and admiration.

"i love you too. so so much," falling in love with him was the easy part; it's admitting to yourself that it happened that's hard. you see you've had these very efficient defences for so long and you didn't even notice them. how rude. he thought they were meant for others and he had his own door. he could ask why, but what's the point? he's here and you're so glad, even if you're sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing you right there.

he loves you in the way a puppy loves; devoted, playful, trusting. he guesses he should be ashamed of that somehow; aren't we all supposed to be tough? yet he prefers to be strong; strong enough to risk being broken all over again, to love again, full knowing his own fragility. he's known enough heartbreaks enough to shatter anyone's mind, to leave your soul feeling like dust in the wind and your body unwilling to live. but, you my love, you are worth my life and all that he has left is yours.

and although he doesn't say this out loud, he wishes to say more in the near future. he wishes to do more in the near future. he wishes to hold you in his arms and talk all night long, until the sun rises. or to dance with you under the rain and kiss, right after. he wants to bake your favourite cake even though he doesn't know how. and mostly, he wants to love you in every bit of it. with every breath, he wants to love you tremendously more. and he wishes to engulf you in his warmth. that's how lee minho truly loves.

“I must say jisung's advices were never wrong,” his touch still lingered. like the smell of earth after rain, or like the leftover foam after an emptied down cup of coffee. like that feeling of warmth after you're burrito wrapped in a blanket during winters. it's all too familiar to you. but yet, all too special that you want them to keep replaying no matter what.

you've never been this happy. never felt like the skies could ever do wonders like this. but with minho, everything has a way of becoming special. from unspoken thoughts to little giggles under the duvet during snowy days. or from late night runs to the convience store to picking out each other's outfits.

all of it will be repeated. just with a twist of part two. and you will always have lee minho, right by your side. forever.

[rottingpirate]

driving headcanons for 141? like can they even drive or what car do they drive or do they even have a license?? ;D

Ghost

If he would have a car then he would have a nice car like a Chevrolet Silverado 1500

No one ever dares to stay in his way because he will drive them over

He hardly ever wears a seatbelt

Has had his licence suspended more than once

He hates driving and avoids it at all cost

Remember how he just drow over that one shadow?

Magically has been pulled over only ONCE

Weirdly enough he hasn't caused any accidents

If you two are going somewhere then you have to drive

He's chill as a passenger though

The type of passenger to yell "HORSE" or "COW" whenever he sees one

2/10

Soap

Pulls up with a 1974 Blue Rodger Dodger

The type of person who texts while driving

Almost crashed one time when you sent him a selfie

He likes holding hands while driving

Keep one hand on his thigh and it's perfect

Always brags that he has the best music taste and then he plays marina and the diamonds

He let's you have the aux most of the time

Overall he's a good driver but he tries making it fun by "driving creatively"

He once drove over a mailbox and you never let him forget it

He gets scared by oncoming traffic

4/10

Gaz

I don't know why but he gives me blue Alpine A110 vibes

Surprisingly careful

Obeys the law and fights the urge to road rage

Very calm, very attentive

Even though he's a good driver I feel like he'd be late everywhere

Plays Doja Cat and Rihanna on repeat

Has music on full volume and loves singing and jamming out with you

You always have to feed him snacks while driving

You have to lean over him to order food because he's terrified of ordering

Has a thing for retro cars

9/10

Roach

A clean White Dodge Challenger

Was nervous at first because it's a white car

But keeps his car clean

Will scrub and clean all the bird shit and dirt off until the car shines

Got his licence in one go

Opposite of Gaz in a sense that he's always on time

Goes 90 in a 45

Which doesn't usually keep the car clean

Nights are dedicated to cute little drives so you better not have any plans

Tries keeping his cool when driving with you

He does get distracted by you a lot

Has never been in an accident

6/10

Price

A good ol' 1989 LS 400 sedan 

Or a Dacia jogger

Calls his car "baby"

Drives the squad around wherever they need

I feel like he has never taken the test

Like he can drive but never bothered to get the licence

He likes to smoke while driving

Does that hot one hand driving thing

Has way too many tickets that aren't paid

Will randomly take you to get coffee when you literally have coffee at home

Follows the rules even if he doesn’t always agree with them

7/10

[bts-0t-7]

So What? | MYG | Chapter 14

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.7K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar @bontensbabygirl @codeinebelle @ldysmfrst @idkjustlovingbts @popcatx0 @yoonjinsgirl @marblemoonstones

A/N: As promised :) hehe...

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Seokjin had come over in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep and inerputed him for a movie marathon. Beyond tired was a mild way of putting it. He woke up early in the morning, struggling and finally managing to shimmy out of your grasp after a long fifteen minutes. He stilled against the bed, one foot out on the floor, bed hair spiking everywhere, and head slowly turning to you as you whined about the loss of contact. Acting fast, Seokjin tucked a pillow under your arm. 

You sighed and nuzzled it, quickly falling back into the Dreamland. 

Seokjin rubbed his face and got out of bed, padding to your kitchen on soft feet to prepare some breakfast. As he opened the refrigerator, he found two lunchboxes of overnight oats. Opening them, he took a sniff, trying to sense how long they had been in the fridge. After he deemed that they were edible, he placed one on the table and headed to pack your living room as he ate. 

It wasn't long before you woke up to the birds cawing outside your window, silently cursing them to let you sleep a little longer. Just as you were almost back asleep, they started calling again, causing you to groan out in frustration. Everything has been frustrating recently. You patted the space beside you, only for your hands to touch against the cool sheets. 

Sighing, you pushed yourself out of bed, heading to the kitchen where you were sure your brother was. 

Only to find it empty with a box of half-eaten overnight oats you had just made last afternoon. You tilted your head, yawning as you tried to think. 

"That's mine." Seokjin came into the kitchen with arms full of opened snacks and dirty, empty cups. "Go take yours. I left it in the fridge."

"Where were you?" Your voice came out scratchy and hoarse, the aftermath of all the tears and screaming last night. 

"Living room." Seokjin placed the cups in the sink. "I'm surprised you walked straight past me at the couch just now." He snickered, keeping your snacks in the baskets. 

"You were probably hiding from me, waiting for this moment." 

"Nah, I wouldn't be so bad." 

The both of you started the day by cleaning your house, Seokjin nagging at you for not taking care of yourself and the place you live in. The constant "Look at the amount of dust there is on this!" and "Oh my gosh, Y/N!". At least your brain took a break from what you were running from. After dinner, Seokjin had left, saying that he was called back to the hospital. You shooed him off despite him worrying over you.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" His brows were creased against his forehead. "I can cancel anyway. My licence is no longer valid so technically calling me back is unnecessary. So I can stay if you need me." 

"Just go, Seokjin."

"They'll probably make me stay the whole night, you know that." 

"I know that." You patted his shoulder. "Just go, I'll be fine."

With your constant pestering and deflection, Seokjin reluctantly left your house, leaving you once again in your mind. You watch as his car revered from the parking lot, driving away. You closed the curtains and turned off the lights. 

Might as well get some sleep to escape reality. 

The sad truth of that.

You had woken up just as Lillianne burst into your house screaming, “FBI, OPEN UP!” 

Groaning, you turned to the side, hands blindly grabbing your phone off the coffee table. When your sleep-muggled brain finally registered the time that your screen showed you, you shot up, cursing your way to your room. 

“I was wondering why you weren’t out yet. You better be lucky I came in.”

Hastily, you got yourself ready, shrugging on clothes like you were just caught. Technically, you were. You and Lils managed to leave the house in a record time of seven minutes, only missing your water bottle. But the water in the shop was free anyway, so you’d just take that.

Starting the car, you drove off in the direction of the shop. The moment you stepped in, you were already dreading coming to work. The shop was filled with customers. 

Good for the business, not good for your health. 

Starting the orders in the receipts, you prepped yourself for a long night ahead. Lils worked at the cashier, shoving more receipts your way as you balanced making drinks and serving to scoop ice creams. 

You were certainly not pleased with the amount of people in the shop at four in the afternoon. But it was a Saturday - what could you say?

Family gatherings, children playing around, couples on dates. It made your heart clench every time you had to serve a couple. Seeing the lovey-dovey looks they send each other reminded you of a certain hybrid. Shaking your head, you tightened your apron and continued. The coffee would not make itself and the food would not serve itself. 

Oh, how you would love that. 

Then, you wouldn’t have to constantly run about. But that is the nature of the job. One could only expect so much from a food and beverage job. The night went on much busier than usual on a Saturday night. Parties were held there with big gatherings and by the time the shop closed, you had heard a good four birthday songs and seen an uncountable amount of bouquets. 

Cleaning up, you cleared off the used cutleries and dishes, setting them in the sink for the kitchen staff to wash. Ensuring that no ice cream scooper is left in their respective boxes overnight, you then swept and mopped the floor before cleaning the tables. Going out to throw the trash, you grabbed the bags from the kitchen and outside. 

Spotting a black cat sitting idly at the bus stop, you gave it a small hello before speed-walking to the bins. They were heavy trash bags. There were a lot of baking and alcohol bottles used today. You weren’t sure when the cat had leapt down and followed you, but you soon found yourself stumbling over, trying not to step on the cat’s wagging tail. It walked in between your legs, rubbing its head against your calves - chasing it was more likely - as its tail swished violently. 

Its actions reminded you a lot of Yoongi. That cat loved to show affection by constantly rubbing your calves and scenting you in between your shoulders. He had said that it was a comfortable spot to sleep on. 

Your heart clenched at the thought of him. 

After throwing the trash away, you squatted down to give its head a small pat with the back of your hands. “I’m sorry, buddy. My hands are filled with syrup right now and I wouldn’t like you for you to get sick when you groom yourself.”

It followed you to the shop, stopping just outside the doors. 

“Come on in, buddy.” You gestured for the cat. 

It was dark outside and with the heavy trash bags, you didn’t take a good look at the cat, trying to work your way around not hurting it. But now that it was inside, it mewoed and continued to rub at your ankles, going around you in circles. 

“Sit.” You instructed it. It was something you hoped it could understand. And it did. 

After washing your hands, you rummaged through the kitchen for a can of tuna. Spotting three, you took them all with you and headed out. Opening one, you placed it in front of the cat. “There you go, you can have all three. I’ll go get you some water, okay?” 

When you headed back to the front, you found it prodding at the second can. “Here,” You placed the bowl of water onto the floor. “Have some water first. I’ll open it for you.” 

You were stopped with two paws on your arm, the cat jumping up onto your lap. Sitting down in a cross-legged position, gave it more space to roam. But it seemed to know exactly where it wanted to be. In the middle with his head propped on your upper thigh. Its loud purrs fill the room as you stroke it from ear to snout. 

It looks just like Yoongi.

You knew that but your conscious brain was just trying to reject it. 

It wasn’t until its moonlit eyes slid to yours did the waterworks started. Carrying him up, you looked at the cat in your arms through watery eyes. Its shocked expression and terrified meows -

Your eyes closed the moment you felt his rough tongue lick your cheek. Tilting your head away from him to not cover his shiny fur in your slob, you tucked him between your neck and shoulder, head hanging down. 

Yoongi knew Jimin was right. 

Yoongi knew that he needed to talk to you. 

Yoongi also knew the address where you stayed and worked. 

So when he overheard Seokjin asking a favour from Jimin to keep his phone on call in case you needed him, Yoongi dashed out of the house. Scurrying from Jimin’s home to the shop, his little cat paws could only get him there so fast. 

By the time he reached it, he was parched. Panting, he stuck his tongue out to moderate his temperature. He wanted to take the chance of the next customer to enter the shop and call your attention to him. But seeing you so busy, running from place to place without a stop, Yoongi decided that it was better if he waited until the shop closed. 

So Yoongi took his spot at the shaded area of the bus stop and watched you work. You were quick and agile, moving like the wind. Many times, he saw the flinch of pain and growth of your eyes when you were scared. When big groups of people came in, he could see the exhaustion in your eyes. You tried not to show the customers - but Yoongi knew better. The pain in your eyes when you see couples made his head hang. 

It was his fault.

When the day was finally over and the shop closed, Yoongi waited for his chance. Like a cat hunting for his prey, Yoongi’s attention grew sharper. He noted each of your movements and when you finally came out with trash bags in hand, he leaped for it. 

He did not expect you to spot him from far but you did. 

It made his heart swell with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. Pride, most probably. 

She noticed me. 

Rubbing against your ankles, he meowed for your attention, glad to finally be close to you. You hadn’t recognised him and it made Yoongi feel a little… sad. But the moment you did, you burst into tears and Yoongi couldn’t find a way to stop it. He was essentially trapped in your hold. He meowed frantically, hoping that you would sense the distress in his voice and stop. But you didn’t. 

You continued, caressing his fur and mumbling his name over and over again. 

With a meow and a particularly harsh tug, he slid out of your grasp and stood on your thighs, licking your face. You laughed as he found your sensitive spot just behind your ear. Trying to get him out of your face, Yoongi held on and continued. It was better than you crying. 

“Okay, okay.” You got up, placing him on a table as he hissed from the cold contact. “I’m okay. But now I have to go wash my face since you just covered me in slobber.”

Yoongi sat up and watched your movements. From cleaning up yourself to cleaning the floor and leftover water to you turning off everything and picking him up, he didn’t dare relax. It wasn’t until you placed him in your car and wrapped him in his favourite towel did he started to feel it. 

He was holding it in for such a long time that -

Tears unconsciously slid down his eyes, matting his fur. 

He didn’t know how long it was before your arms pulled him up again, carrying him onto your lap. “Yoongs… Don’t cry… We’ll figure it out, I’ll try harder. I promise.”

But it has nothing to do with you. 

It’s me.

The silence was kept at a peaceful wavelength until you reached home. Picking him and your bags up, he cuddled closer to you, seeking your warmth in the chilly air. The moment you opened the door, Yoongi lept out of your arms and slinked through the cat door on his door, pleased to find that it had not been locked. 

Quickly shifting and changing, Yoongi left the room and slid to your side on the floor. 

You brought your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks but he did not dare grumble. He wanted this to last as long as possible. 

“I chose you, Y/N. I choose you, mate.” Yoongi confessed. 

You closed your eyes as your lips trembled and Yoongi brought his hands up to wipe away the tears that streaked down your face. 

“I’m sorry…” You whispered. 

“No, please don’t be. Please.” Yoongi begged. “You are the most amazing person ever. The most beautiful and does everything you can just for me. I am sorry. I have let you down - hurt you just because I thought it was easier to let you hate me than love me.” Yoongi let himself go, crying in your lap. “My strong, beautiful, exceptional mate.” Yoongi looked up at you, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” 

This is one of the few times that Yoongi broke down in front of you. 

“I’m so, so, sorry.” Yoongi kneeled in front of you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry. I did not mean - I -”

You gently placed your hands in his hair, ruffling them and stroking his ears. Yoongi’s harsh sobs could be heard throughout your house. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” You mumbled into his hair, bent over onto his body. “It’s okay, Yoongs. I’m sorry too.”

Yoongi’s head tilted upwards, voice hoarse as he asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I jumped to conclusions and didn’t put enough trust and hope into our relationship. And that I let this become when we could have easily talked it out properly if I had chosen the right words to tell you.” You smiled down at him. 

You had never thought that you would ever say these three words that would mean so much. You thought that our chance had been blown the moment you started that argument. You expected your chance to stay blown when Yoongi walked out of the courtroom without looking back. Saying them to Lils and Jin was a different thing from saying to Yoongi. You were always the person to express instead of say but this time -

“Yoongi,” You tilted his face upwards to you, eyes boring into his as you muttered the three words of magic. “I love you.”

From this view, you can see the widening of his eyes. 

“You - You love me?” Yoongi’s eyes sparkled with a shimmery glow. “You love me?”

You nodded, smiling at his goofy expression. Yoongi suddenly shot up, bouncing around the house - much like an excited dog might when he goes on walks. 

“You love me! You love me!” Yoongi ran to the windows. “Y/N love me!” 

Your eyes widened, hands instantly pulling him back. “Don’t go screaming it to the world! It isn’t even 5 a.m.!”

Yoongi turned, the light in his eyes knocking the breath out of you. “But you’re mine.” Yoongi’s eyes crinkled and a gummy smile was full on show. “And you love me.” 

You nodded undoubtedly. Yoongi brought you close to his chest, hugging you tightly. “You love me and I love you too.” 

“Yoongi -”

“I love you.” He shook his head, eyes shining with inner light and it knocked the breath right out of you. “I love you, wholly.”

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 6 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you spend the night in West Virginia, in which you find yourself in a slightly awkward situation. When you move on to a small town in Illinois, you make a decision that could end up being your downfall, while Spencer tries to take his mind off his growing attraction towards you.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - blood, murder, masturbation (male), slight voyeurism, slightly aggressive Spencer, swearing, drinking, making out, tears.

WC - 5k

Chapter Six - Raise No Fool

Logan, West Virginia was, by all accounts, an exceptionally boring place. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, aside from maybe its proximity to the Appalachian Mountains. 

The town boasted two restaurants, Morrison’s Drive In with its “world famous” hot dogs or Chirico’s Ristorante, a family owned Italian joint which was where you and Spencer had eaten dinner upon arrival in town. Shopping was just as sparse as was any other kind of activity in these parts. But you supposed you weren’t here for a vacation. 

The Chapmanville Inn, the fifty bucks a night motel Spencer had picked out was cheap but certainly not cheerful. The old building had definitely seen better days, a lick of paint would have gone a long way. Then again, knocking it down entirely and starting over again would have gone further. 

The room was smaller than your already pokey living room at home. It had twin beds, a wobbly table with a single chair you wouldn't think out of place in an elementary school, a stained blue carpet and little else. At the very least your room had its own bathroom, worryingly not all of them did. 

You hadn’t said much of anything to Spencer for the rest of the drive or over dinner. He kept trying to engage you but you responded with little more than perfunctory sounds and nods. Eventually he gave up trying. 

He’d allowed you to call Luke from the car outside the restaurant while he listened intently to everything you said to ensure that you didn’t incriminate him. You were sure Luke could sense something was amiss, between you telling him you’d left without your phone and that he couldn’t contact you on your replacement device, you knew he was suspicious. You’d ended the call telling him you would be in touch soon. 

When you checked into the Chapmanville Inn, under the names of Andrew and Rose Burnett with their Colorado drivers licences and paying cash, you went straight through to the bathroom to shower. 

You spent a long time under the measly flow of luke-warm water, cleaning yourself with the hotel shower gel which had an odd scent that you couldn’t place. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant but it certainly wasn’t nice either. 

You dried yourself off and changed your clothes and when you stepped back into the bedroom, you found it empty. Spencer was nowhere to be seen and neither were the two firearms or his hunting knife. The only thing left behind were your bags and the clothes he’d been wearing earlier neatly laid out on one of the beds. 

You padded over to the window and pushed the curtain aside to look out at the parking lot. The little navy Nissan was no longer in the spot Spencer had parked it in. 

Your first thought was to run. It could be your only chance to get away from Spencer’s manic clutches. The lobby must have a phone, you could call Luke and tell him everything and get him to come and pick you up. Or you could call the cops and have them come for Spencer, but on what grounds? 

You had no proof he had done anything wrong and you weren’t here entirely under duress. Spencer hadn’t forced you at gunpoint to come with him, ok so he’d threatened you but you could have gotten out of this if you’d really wanted to. When Luke hugged you at the BAU and obscured your phone’s microphone you could have told him what was going on but you didn’t. You didn’t tip Luke off for the same reason you weren’t going to run now. 

You didn’t want to. And that was what scared you most about this whole situation. You had no intention of going anywhere because you wanted to be here with Spencer, no matter how foolish that made you. And you were sure Spencer knew it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have left you here alone. If he’d thought you would run he never would have gone anywhere without you. 

Goddamint, I am in way over my head. 

You sat down on the free bed and quickly fell back against the pillows. You hadn’t realised how tired you were until you laid down. The last few days had taken its toll on you, coupled with the lack of sleep you’d had due to your nightmares and you were exhausted. You felt your eyes fluttering closed within seconds of your head hitting the pillow. You didn’t even manage to get under the sheet before you were drifting off to sleep.

***

You weren’t sure what woke you. Maybe it was the sound of the door being closed or the light that emanated from the crack in the bathroom door. Maybe it was the metallic smell that filled your nostrils and pulled you out of sleep. 

You rubbed your eyes, momentarily forgetting where you were as your brain roused into consciousness. You became aware of the sound of running water. A tap? No, the shower. You sat yourself up in bed and saw the trail of clothes leading to the bathroom door. Socks. Jeans. A hoodie. A pair of boxers. No shirt.

You swung your legs out of the bed without having the forethought to do so and were soon pushing yourself to your feet. You didn’t have to go far before you found the offending item, draped over a garbage bag on the back of the chair. 

Even in the dark room you could tell the material was soaked in blood, mostly by the smell. You’d already assumed where Spencer had gone tonight and now you had proof. 

Still there was no sign of the guns or the knife. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept towards the bathroom and poked your head around the crack in the door. Sitting on the sink basin, either side of the faucet were the two firearms Spencer had taken from your storage container. Inside the basin, soaking in some water was the partially bloody knife. 

Feeling your stomach turn, you went to return to bed before Spencer saw you creeping around but as you turned away from the sink your eyes landed on the shower. 

Through the flimsy yellow-ish curtain you could make out the perfect outline of Spencer’s body as he stood under the shower head. The lighting couldn’t have been more ideal, showcasing every dip and curve of his figure in silhouette. 

You couldn't quite work out if he was facing you or the wall as his hands moved to run through his hair. You could however make out his slim waist and his strong thighs. You heard him exhale sharply through parted lips as he moved his hands from his hair further down his body. 

When he turned to the side you had to hold back a gasp and clamped your hand over your mouth at the sight. His cock was standing at full attention and one of his hands was wrapped around it. When his hand started to move you had to bite down on your hand to stop from making a sound.

Your eyes were glued to his crotch, mesmerised by the way his hand glided up and down his hard length. You pressed your thighs together where you stood feeling dizzy at the sight and wishing there wasn’t a shower curtain hindering your view. 

It wasn’t long before you felt yourself getting wet, your arousal soaking into the fabric of your panties. You wanted to follow Spencer’s lead and touch yourself, or better, have Spencer touch you. But you didn’t move. You kept frozen still, watching him behind the curtain whilst biting down on your hand. 

Small pants and soft moans were coming from Spencer’s lips and you were possibly more turned on than you’d ever been in your life. You would give anything to just hop in that shower with him, to have a front row seat to what he was doing to himself, maybe even help him out. 

You were caught up in your fantasy, lost in imagination of what it would be like to have Spencer fuck you up against those grimy shower tiles. So when a voice interrupted your sordid thoughts, you yelped in shock. 

“You can either join me in here or go back to bed. I don’t need an audience, princess.” Spencer’s tone was amused yet breathy and he didn’t stop stroking himself as he spoke. 

He’d known you were watching him since you walked into the bathroom, the thin curtain worked both ways he’d been able to see you peeping on him. It was the only reason he’d gotten hard in the first place and he’d decided to give you a bit of a show. But you had to pay the cover charge if you wanted the grand finale. 

You made a pathetic whimpering sound like a puppy being kicked in the ribs and then he heard you scurrying away and shutting the door firmly behind you. He smiled to himself, shaking his head and continuing his activity once he was alone. He hadn’t expected you to join him, although he certainly wouldn’t have been upset if you had. He was aware you were attracted to him, as he was to you, but he wasn’t going to push you. 

He stroked himself to completion and made sure to moan louder than was strictly necessary when he came, to ensure you heard him. He inspected his body after and once he was sure he had rinsed off all the blood, he shut the shower off and got out. 

He dried himself off, dressed in a clean pair of underwear and a clean shirt. He cleaned off the blade soaking in the sink before taking it and the firearms and leaving the room. Your bed was furthest from the bathroom and you laid on your side with your back to him. He knew you weren’t asleep as your breathing wasn’t deep enough, but he’d let you pretend that you were. 

He took the knife and the guns and tucked them inside the nightstand between his bed and the bathroom door. He collected up the clothes he’d deposited on the floor and put them and the blood stained t-shirt in the garbage bag. The rags he’d used to clean the inside of the Nissan after disposing of the body went inside the bag too. 

Turning back to you he had an overwhelming desire to crawl into the small single bed next to you, turn you on your back and pin you down to the mattress so hard he left bruises on your wrists, maybe even some between your legs. 

But he refrained. There would be plenty of time for that, and he was sure it would happen. But right now you were like a frightened deer, seconds away from retreating back into the woods at any given moment. He needed to bide his time, let you come to him. But he would have you, he was sure of it.

He crawled into his own bed and mirrored your position, laying on his side so he could watch the back of your head. You seemed to tense up, as though you could feel his eyes on you somehow. He smiled against the pillow, closing his eyes and still seeing you behind his lids.

“Good night my darling Rose.” He mumbled, but as expected, he didn’t receive a reply.

***

The following day you somehow spoke less than the one before. This time you wouldn’t even make eye contact with him unless he forced you to and when he did an adorable blush would spread to your cheeks. You clearly felt awkward about what you’d witnessed last night but Spencer didn’t. And he would use your embarrassment to his advantage.

Your silence made for an extremely long journey. It was almost five hundred miles between Logan and his next planned pit stop in Edwardsville, Illinois. It took just over eight hours to make the drive with the couple of stops for gas he’d had to make. 

He had no target in Illinois. He probably could have found one if he’d wanted to but he was keen to reach his final destination without going off route too much in search of victims and Edwardsville was just a quick detour off of the I-70, barely taking him away from the interstate. 

He’d chosen the Heartland B&B for the night, which was a huge step up from the rundown Chapmanville Inn last night and about triple the price. But his generosity went unnoticed by you. 

It was an old farmhouse style building, set back from the road and surrounded by woodlands. The room was cosy and most importantly, clean. However, there was only one bed. 

You had a scowl on your face as you sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Spencer in frustration. There was a couch on one wall but it was far too small for a person of his height to sleep on. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself if we share a bed, Y/N?” He teased you but it only made you scowl grow.

“We will share this bed in your dreams.” You scoffed. 

“Oh we certainly will.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I mean it, I am not sharing a bed with you.” You folded your arms in defiance. 

“You expect me to sleep on that?” He nodded his head in the direction of the tiny couch.

“Or the floor. The bathtub. I don’t really care. But you aren’t sleeping here.” 

Spencer stepped closer to you, surprising you when he grabbed you roughly by the bicep and pulled you up to your feet. He was bearing his teeth at you like a wild animal.

“I think you’ve forgotten who has the power here, princess. You will sleep where I tell you to sleep. And if you keep sassing me, that will be in the car.” He spat at you, squeezing your arm so tightly he would surely leave a bruise. 

Suddenly he let you go, shoving you back to the bed and making you whine slightly. He turned his back on you, allowing you to see one of the weapons and the knife sheathed in the back of his pants as though giving you a warning. You watched him walk back over to the door and throw it open.

“Off on another vigilante mission?” You scoffed and he froze at your words in the open doorway. 

He exhaled noisily before slowly turning back to face you. He looked more annoyed than you’d ever seen him, as though your mere presence was a burden right now. 

“No,” he hissed. “I’m going to find somewhere to have a fucking drink.” 

He didn’t wait for you to reply before he stepped outside and slammed the door closed behind him.  You felt your cheeks burning with your anger and you let out a frustrated scream, slamming your fists against the mattress. 

You were growing sick of this. You’d let Spencer drag you halfway across the country only for him to treat you like a nuisance. You’d thought you were here to help, to be somewhat useful to him but instead you were to stay hauled up in hotel rooms while he went out and did whatever the fuck he wanted. 

No, not anymore. You weren’t going to let him treat you like this. If you were in this, you were in it together or you were leaving. You jumped up from the bed, marched to the door and threw it open before disappearing into the night. 

***

Luke had just put down Roxy’s food when his cell phone rang from the coffee table. He patted the dog on the head with a sigh as he prayed it wouldn’t be Garcia calling to say they had yet another case. 

The team was worn extremely thin after the loss of two members and the cases seemed never ending. It was the first evening he’d gotten to spend at home in such a long time and he pleaded that he wasn’t about to be called back to Quantico. 

The number flashing on his screen wasn’t one he recognised and he frowned as he picked up the device and answered it. 

“Hello?” He leant against the back of the couch. 

“Luke, it’s Y/N.” Your voice floated to his ears and he breathed a sigh of relief but it was only temporary. Your tone was a little frantic, quiet and if he wasn’t mistaken almost scared. 

“Is everything ok?” He quickly stood up straight as he started to panic. 

“Yeah. Yeah everything’s fine.” You tried to level your voice. 

“This isn’t the number you usually call from.” He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, something didn’t sit right with him.

“I went for a walk and left my cell phone at my parent’s.” 

“Y/N,” He swallowed. “You would tell me if something is wrong right? You know you can tell me anything.” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to insist. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You’re sure? Because I’m really starting get concerned that-”

“I said I’m fine. Jeez, Alvez, paranoid much?” You chuckled but it didn’t sound like your usual laugh. 

“You’re sure? I mean it Y/N you can tell me if…” He trailed off when he heard a beeping in his ear. He pulled the device away from his face and saw the incoming call from Garcia. He groaned as he put it back to his ear. “Sorry, Y/N it’s Garcia. I’ve gotta go.” 

“Oh, ok.” You squeaked. “Sure, I’ll call you soon, yeah?”

“I hope you do.” He swallowed again. “Y/N promise me you’re ok. Promise me that…Y/N? Hello?” He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose when he realised the line had gone dead. 

You quickly replaced the pay phone in its cradle and rolled your eyes at your stupidity. You were not in the right frame of mind to be calling Luke, of course he would see through your thinly veiled attempts to pretend you were ok. You just hoped he didn’t think much of it, hopefully the case Garcia was calling him about would take his mind off of you. 

You leant back against the glass booth and ran your fingers through your hair. You’d gone storming out of the hotel so quickly you hadn’t stopped to think that you didn’t have a key. You could go back and wait for Spencer in the lobby but who knew how long he would be out for. He’d said he was going for a drink, how many bars could there be in a tiny town like Edwardsville? 

As is by some stroke of luck, you noticed a flyer tacked to the inside of the phone booth and stepped closer to it. It was crudely made, no real effort gone into it. You recognised it from the bulletin board in the lobby of the Heartland and could only assume they were posted all over town. It was a flyer for a bar proclaiming two for one shots on Tuesday nights. 

Tonight was Tuesday night. And if you were Spencer, this was the place you would go. 

You grabbed the flyer, pulling it down off of the glass and taking it with you as you marched across the street in the hopes of finding a cab in this backwoods town. 

***

The Corner Tavern, conveniently located at the corner of Main and Union streets, was somehow exactly how Spencer imagined it to look. It looked like it had been plucked right out of an old western, with its hanging sign proclaiming its name and saloon style doors. But inside was a completely different story. 

They’d clearly kept the facade for its charm but inside it had been renovated to reflect a much more modern setting. Loud music played from tinny speakers and the lights were almost too bright for his liking. Most surfaces were a garish silver and combined with the lighting hurt his eyes a little. 

But it offered two for one on shots and after walking for almost three miles from the hotel, he was in desperate need of a drink. Or five. 

He ordered two shots of Bourbon and necked them in quick succession before ordering another two as well as a glass of scotch. Double. Once again he quickly took the shots before meandering around to find a table. 

He’d locked one of the guns and his hunting knife up in the glovebox of the Nissan, not wanting to be seen as a threat to the locals. But he still kept the little Colt tucked inside his boot, he wasn’t a complete idiot. 

He had been sitting down for approximately two minutes before he had company in the form of a curvaceous blonde who was almost half his age. She was likely tipsy, certainly flirting. That was confirmed when she bypassed the other chairs at the table in lieu of sitting directly on Spencer’s lap. He couldn’t tell if she’d missed the wedding band on his finger or simply didn’t care. 

He’d be lying if he said didn’t find her attractive and that he didn’t appreciate her attention. Maybe a fling with a beautiful young girl he would never see again was just what he needed. It had been a frightfully long time since he’d been intimate with someone. 

She placed her hands on his shoulders, grinding herself a little in his lap as she did so. She moved close to his ear and he felt her hot breath on the side of his face.

“I’m Sarah.” Her lips brushed against his ear lobe. 

“Andrew.” He replied, thinking it easier and wiser to use his alias.

“You’ve got a hot professor thing going on, Andrew.” She giggled and the sound was akin to nails on a chalkboard to Spencer but he ignored it. 

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” He let one arm snake around her waist, holding her place. 

His other ventured upwards, cupping her cheek while his fingers threaded into her hair. He used his grip on her to pull her head back from his ear. Her eyes were glossed over from alcohol consumption and her lips were pouting at him, desperately inviting. 

He really couldn’t be blamed when he tugged her closed and slammed his lips against hers. She certainly didn’t seem to mind as she was quick to let him plunge his tongue in her mouth. 

He gripped her face as he kissed her and she in turn wrapped her arms around his neck. She adjusted herself in his lap until she was straddling him and the way in which she rocked against him had him growing hard in no time. 

She moaned shamelessly against his lips, would probably have even let him fuck her right there in the middle of the bar for anyone to watch. Her desperation turned him on and disgusted him in equal measure. But it didn’t stop him deepening the kiss and grinding upwards to meet her. 

Maybe they could go somewhere with a little more privacy, the alley down the side of the tavern could work. He could so easily get her on her knees for him, he was sure he could get this hopeless girl to do just about anything for him. 

His free hand glided under her shirt and across the planes of her back. He wondered how many other men this pathetic creature had let take advantage of her. Were older men always her type? He would be willing to bet she had daddy issues that he would be more than happy to exploit. Only he didn’t get that chance. 

Suddenly Spencer found himself being forcibly pulled away from Sarah by his hair, a hand threading into his locks and roughly tugging him by the roots. He sat back with a frown while Sarah’s arms fell to her sides, expecting to see an angry boyfriend or something standing over them, he was already concocting a way out of this in his head. But what he saw instead was somehow worse. 

Your eyebrows were furrowed deeply in anger as you glared at him, your lips pulled into a tight line of frustration. But it was your eyes that contradicted the rest of your expression, your large, sad eyes that were filled with tears as you looked at him with this woman straddling his lap. 

Sarah wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at you in annoyance at your interruption. Spencer barely paid her any notice, all he could look at was you and how it looked as though your heart was breaking.

“What the hell, lady? We were kind of in the middle of something here.” She got up from Spencer’s lap and approached you, folding her arms across her ample chest. 

“So I saw.” You squared your shoulders. “I hate to break this to you, but I’m his wife.” 

You proffered your hand towards the blonde, showing off the worn gold band on your ring finger. Spencer couldn’t help the smirk that jumped to his lips as you played the part of scorned wife so perfectly. 

Sarah frowned, looking between the ring and Spencer who was still sitting dumbly in the chair. He shrugged at Sarah, not at all looking sympathetic. 

“In my defence,” He pushed himself up, sidling between you and Sarah. “You didn’t ask.” 

“Go to hell, jackass!” Sarah suddenly slapped him hard around the face, with a force that caused Spencer to stumble on his feet. 

He groaned at the impact, cupping his cheek in his hand. He knew he couldn’t argue with Sarah, not without admitting your marriage was part of a fabricated identity anyway, so he let her storm away. 

“See, I would deserve that if we were actually married.” He joked, turning to where you stood.

He felt the exact moment his heart shattered in his chest. Taking in the tears now silently rolling down your cheeks and your quivering bottom lip he felt the pain he’d caused you by kissing that stranger tenfold in his own heart. You looked utterly forlorn as you stared at him with the most broken look in your eyes he’d ever seen.

“Y/N…” He whispered, stepping closer to you. “I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t realise that you…that we…” 

He trailed off as he saw you raising your arm. Seconds later another blow landed on the same cheek, this time even harder and he yelped in pain. You worked out a lot, you boxed in your spare time. That wasn’t fair at all. 

“I second what she said,” you spat as angrily as you could muster given your tears. “Go to hell, jackass.” 

Spencer went to speak but you were already turning on your heels and fleeing the bar. He wanted to call after you but he’d already garnered a lot of attention from other patrons who were now all staring at the jackass who had seemingly cheated on his wife. 

You stormed away, your tears burning your cheeks as they fell and tried to brush them away to clear your vision as you shoved your way out of the bar and onto the dark street in the middle of a town you didn’t know. 

You’d been stabbed in the back by someone you had once called your best friend. You’d been used, betrayed by the man who had given you his ring, albeit a fake one. Your mother didn’t raise a fool, so why were you letting Spencer use you as though she had? 

I'm wearing rose-tinted shades but,

All I see is shades of my imagination covered in red.

A crooked smile and some fake love,

Put me in these handcuffs.

Threw away the keys 'cause I was a threat.

Well, first you try to tell me that we're family,

Then you try to tell me that it's for the best.

You promise that you'll be there if I need you,

But I don't need your handout, you can take it back.

I won't be used,

My mama didn't raise no fool.

Won't let you leave me hanging,

So cut me loose.

My mama didn't raise no fool,

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Oh-oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh, oh,

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Oh-oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh, oh,

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Mm, I got a pain in my backbone,

Where'd you get that knife from?

Why the hell is it so covered in red?

I let you walk into my home,

Let you make it your own.

You tried to tear it down and,

Leave me for dead.

Well, first you try to tell me that we're family,

Then you try to tell me that it's for the best.

You promise that you'll be there if I need you,

But I don't need your handout, you can take it back.

I won't be used (no, no),

My mama didn't raise no fool.

Won't let you leave me hanging,

So cut me loose.

My mama didn't raise no fool,

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Oh-oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh, oh,

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Oh-oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh, oh,

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Ladies and gentlemen,

If you're sick of being disrespected,

Let me hear you sing it, go.

I don't wanna feel,

Like my money that you're spending.

No, I don't wanna feel,

Like I'm losing 'cause you're winning, baby.

I don't wanna feel,

Like my money that you're spending.

No, I don't wanna feel,

Like I'm losing 'cause you're winning.

And I won't be used,

My mama didn't raise no fool.

Won't let you leave me hanging,

So cut me loose.

My mama didn't raise no fool,

Won't let you leave me hanging.

I won't be used,

My mama didn't raise no fool.

Won't let you leave me hanging,

So cut me loose.

My mama didn't raise no fool,

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Oh-oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh, oh (whoa),

Won't let you leave me hanging, no more.

Oh-oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh, oh (no more, no more),

Won't let you leave me hanging.

Won't let you leave me hanging.

Won't let you leave me hanging.

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @ssa-uglywhore27 @bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world

[randomfandomlov3]

Price of love (Chapter 2)

Warnings: Talk of fear training. Let me know if I missed any.

Note: This is kind of a filler chapter, I realize now. Thank you for reading <3

Word count ~ 1624

“Okay, so this training might be a little bit intense for some people, if at any point you need to take a break, please do so. I do not need anyone overdoing anything before we get out to the field.” You walked back and forth in front of the Avengers. You took them one by one into a more private room, before asking them to imagine a scenario where one person is badly hurt by the enemy and to take out their anger on the substitute you had in front of you. It took a few minutes for some of them to be able to use their fear. Nat and Bucky were too stoic, pretending it didn’t bother them. And then there were people like Wanda, whose emotions about the situation made her have little to no control over herself, and in turn her powers. Yet to most of their surprise, it eventually worked, and they became forces you would never want to face. Just solely due to their newly focused strength. Then you instructed them to just train as they normally would. Now they are all out in one big room. You gave them each a number and when you called it out, they had to switch to their fear training. But they had to make sure that they didn’t use it if it wasn’t their number called, because there would be times when using that will not be useful, and it can be extremely draining, physically and mentally.

“Hey, would you be able to take my car to get the gas filled while you are out?” Bruce asked you in passing. You shook your head rather aggressively. “I’m sorry I can’t do that.” He cocked his head at you. “I don’t have my licence.” You muttered feeling ashamed. Bruce didn’t give it another thought, before heading off to do whatever he had planned. You stayed there stuck in your head though. Until Sam came in to ask if you could help him figure out a gift for his nephews.

Over the next few days, you asserted yourself as a constant source of sunshine for the team, everyone had their own moment when it happened, but they all saw you as their sunshine nonetheless. Tony was the last person to have his moment because you rarely interacted for long enough. “FRIDAY, where is Tony at?” You asked the AI that seemed to always be listening.

“He is in his lab right now, but miss, I would have caution if you go in there. He is upset about something.” Her voice sounded almost annoyed if that was possible.

“Thank you, FRIDAY. I will take that into account.” With that, you got Tony’s favourite coffee and snack and headed down to his lab. Before you knocked on the door, you heard him make a frustrated noise. You decided to forgo the knocking in case he tried to get you to go away. “I brought coffee.” His eyes went wide when he realized he was no longer alone. He took the coffee and snacks and looked at you expectantly. “Did you want a hand with anything?” You asked looking around at the mess that was his lab with a big smile.

His brow furrowed as he thought about your offer. “Sure, I asked Pepper if she could, but she said that she was too busy. I need a female who can take Romanoff’s place in trying these out, making sure they fit and work.”

You cocked your head. “Why don’t you just get Natasha?”

The look on his face told you that you should already have known the answer. “You don’t just tell Natasha what to do. She needs notice, and this was a spur-of-the-moment make.”

Your phone buzzed with perfect timing, pulling it out, you saw a text from Nat. “Where are you?” Tony looked at you expectantly, as you texted god knows who. “She is on her way.” As you tucked your phone away, you told Tony.

Shock filled his expression, but he wasn’t going to question it. With his guidance, you started to help him clean up the mess. "Tony? I was told that you had something you wanted me to try out?" Nat sauntered into the room.

"Yeah, while I was trying to figure out a new upgrade for my suit, I got sidetracked. I ended up having an idea about how to make your widow bites better." They kept talking as you finished what you were cleaning then left with a smile.

There was a knock on your door a while later. When you opened the door a handsome man was standing on the other side. “Bucky! What’s up? Did you want to talk about something, or just have some quiet time?” You always knew what helped him feel better, but this time he had different plans.

“Actually, I came to see if you wanted to come with me to the Avenger’s movie night?” Pink speckled your cheeks as you nodded and followed the super soldier down into the movie room.

He sat down on the loveseat on one side of the room and gestured for your to take a seat beside him. Across the room, Sam and Steve were laughing as they tried to shove each other off of the couch. Nat and Wanda were on a blanket on the floor throwing popcorn at Steve and Sam. Bruce, Tony, and Clint were all seated on the other couch watching the scene go down.

You shifted so that you can see the screen better, and so that you were closer to Bucky. He wrapped his arm around you. Being relaxed is not something you were used to, even when you looked happy or like you were having fun, you were keeping up a mask, one that you hoped maybe one day you would be able to drop around these people. A movie you had seen a thousand times was put on and the day’s exhaustion finally caught up to you. You dropped your head onto Bucky’s shoulder causing him to look down and smile. When he looked up Nat was giving him a look that sent a chill through him, and Sam had a smug look that Bucky wished he could have wiped off. No one else seemed to notice or at least care. Tony had turned the volume up on the tv when it got to a quiet speaking part, but he forgot to turn it back down before the action started.

That startled you awake. Once you calmed your breathing, you gave Bucky a smile as if to tell him not to worry. You stretched the stiffness out of your joints from the position you had been in and not wanting to disturb the peace any longer you whispered to Bucky. “Thank you for this, but I am exhausted, so I am going to head to bed. See you tomorrow.”

He gave your hand a small squeeze as you left the room. Nat glanced over and noticed how despondent he looked; it made her wonder.

The next day when everybody woke up, they had a letter on their door with a location, time, and what to bring/wear. While everyone was getting coffee, and discussing the letters, Nat asked where you were. Everybody assumed that you were just sleeping in. Bucky wanted to ignore it, but Sam wanted him to go because his girl was going to be there.

You had tables of food and some tables with crafts and activities. It was a beautiful day for this, the sky was bright blue, and the sun was nice and bright. All the snow that had been there earlier this month had melted. It’s not spring for a little while yet, but this was your way of ushering in the spring season, with friends. You had gotten an origami expert to come teach everyone how to make origami frogs, you also had frog bean bags to play bean bag toss with.

Before the time, everyone decided that they would head over a little bit early to make sure it was not a trap. While in the shadows, they heard you humming to yourself. They watched as you fiddled with the things on the table to make sure they were perfect. Nat smiled thinking about all of the effort her close friend put into this. After a little while some agents from SHIELD started showing up, ones that Nat knew were a part of the team that you used to lead. You kept looking around between checking the time and frowning. This prompted the Avengers to all look at the time, and they realized that it is already past the time you had asked everyone to meet up. They stepped out from hiding. Your face lit up when you saw them all there.

“What is this for Лунный свет?” Nat asked giving you a big hug.

“Well, I thought that it would be a fun day to celebrate, since no one had any missions right now, and this means that spring is on its way soon. Lots of the activities for the day involve frogs, but that’s because it’s the leap day, and what better creatures to represent it? I also thought this would be a good time for you all to meet the other agents that will be coming on the mission with us.” You rambled out as you showed them around.

The day went by with lots of laughs and mostly failed origami because the boys wouldn’t stop goofing around. However, Sam did successfully make a little hat in one of his failed attempts. You had never seen everyone this freely happy, it gave you peace.

Chapter 3

[shortpplfedup]

He/They works in tech but nobody understands exactly what they do. Oozes eleganza. Fucks with gender without even trying, they're just vibing. Always has money. Secretly picks up the brunch tab and always refuses repayment. In a long-term on/off relationship with the Manwhore. Discusses it with no one. Cannot cook, but always chooses the best restaurants and sets a Pinterest-worthy table for every dinner party. Is frenemies with the Fashion Twink, calls him 'drama queen' under their breath after air kissing him and complimenting his outfit. Drives a handpainted classic two-door convertible. Carries a pearl handled .22 and will calmly use it.

Manwhore is a national rep for a mid-range alcohol brand. Is only ever trusted to bring the booze to the gathering. Knows where home is but always follows his dick. Is the main reason He/They and the Fashion Twink low key hate each other. If He/They ever left him he would cease to function. Drives a tricked-out Hummer. Carries a chrome-plated Desert Eagle .50, waves it around a lot.

Daddy works in import/export, whatever that means. Is the only one with an actual house, not an apartment. Always chooses the group vaycay destinations. Everybody in the group is in love with him, but he needs somebody to take care of and scold like a child so he only has eyes for the Hustler. Competent at everything. Drives a luxury sedan but keeps a Maserati in the garage that he takes out on weekends. Carries a Glock .45.

Gay Bestie is the group therapist, mediator and matchmaker. Works an office 9-5. Can cook, but prefers to buy groceries, wash dishes, clean the kitchen and make sure everybody is taken care of. Always brings the board games. Holds everybody's secrets. Is closest to the Undercover Freak because he never judges him. Would make a perfect couple with the Church Gay in an 'I love you but I'm not in love with you' lesbian bed death kind of relationship, but is actually terminally single because he's in love with a toxic trainwreck who's not allowed to come to the gatherings because everybody hates him. Drives a cute yet practical and surprisingly roomy hatchback. Carries a Smith & Wesson .38, unloaded.

Undercover Freak is Assistant Manager of the Year 5 years running for a big box electronics store chain. Has an impressive vintage sex toy collection. Is the best driver of the group but rides a bicycle unless requested for U-haul duty. Is the best cook, hands down. Doesn't speak much so when he does speak everybody shuts up. Wants to absolutely defile the Church Gay, and got him into bed exactly twice before Church Gay got weird about it and stopped coming to the gatherings for a year. Has a go-to safe word that he's never used. Has a black belt in 17 different martial arts. Doesn't carry a weapon. Nobody asks too many questions.

Fashion Twink doesn't work, doesn't need to. Has a harem of admirers all-too willing to spend and not interested in what he does when he's not with them. Calls He/They 'attention whore' under his breath but is low key jealous. Size queen. Didn't sleep with Manwhore but lets He/They think he did. Is closest to the Hustler because he's the only 'fun' one. Can cook but everybody hates asking because he always makes a production of it. Suspended licence, won't take cabs, always needs to be picked up and dropped off. Carries a switchblade.

Hustler has 12 jobs but somehow is always free to hang out. Trained line cook. Moves around a lot. Saved the Fashion Twink from fraud and identity theft three times in the past 5 years. Brat in search of a Daddy. Knows EVERYBODY and has connections EVERYWHERE. Has never paid for a drink in his life. Pansexual. Drives a motorcycle that nobody knows how he paid for. Carries a shiv that you can never see where he pulls it from and a set of brass knuckles.

Church Gay lives with his mom and drives her 1997 Honda Accord which he keeps in pristine condition. Can't really cook but somebody complimented his chili to be polite once so now that's his go-to dish. It's under-salted and has too many tomatoes. Everybody takes it home, puts it in the freezer and throws it out 6 months later. Plays the organ. Was too curious about the Undercover Freak and now he can't see a can opener without having a flashback. Is solid, dependable and sweet but does not make anybody's pants move (except the Undercover Freak, who desperately wants him back). Has a baseball bat and a flare gun in the trunk.

Please give it up for co-contributors @bengiyo and @elnotwoods.

[poetryinsilence]

Noughts and Crosses - Jake “Hangman” Seresin - childhood friend!reader (part IV)

A/n: SMUT, please this is a warning sign. (smut but kinda vague since smut is not my forté :p) Here we are, the last chapter of this saga :))) I love cocky Hangman vibes, but also domestic Jake gets me. Finally, no beta read still very raw :)

Summary: What's supposed to happen now that Jake is all healed and granted permission to go back to Top Gun? He can't decipher what you're feeling but neither can yourself...

Wc: 3,493

part I | part II | part III

A huge sigh of relief washes over you after the past couple of weeks hectic scheduling and catering at your place. Jake is finally cast-free, which means no more itches that can’t be scratched for him, but to you, this also means he can finally clean up after himself. But a new plan is fitted into your checklist. Now every two to three days, you have to take Jake to his physiotherapy appointments. It is exactly like dropping your kids off at kindergarten. Sometimes, you would pick him up after his appointment and he would tell— no, complain about his day. Other times, you would stay with Jake as he’s regaining his motion. Seeing him straining in pain doesn’t sit right with you.

Over the course of that, he recovered his traction and agility. He’d be up before the first peek of sunlight spilling through the blinds, dressed and prepared for his run of the day. Then, you’d groggily waddle to the kitchen and see he’d already made breakfast for you, with a smile and a wink.

You anxiously twiddle your thumbs, looming behind Jake as he listens intently to the doctor relaying every word. Both showed nothing but smiles and exchanged laughter. As the conversation comes to a close, the doctor signs their full permission for Jake to go back to Top Gun again.

Of course, you are happy for him. He can finally go back to doing what he loves. Flying in a jet and defying gravity, showing the world what he's made of, got a crew that will watch his back, even when you're not there. And you, you'll get the house back to yourself again and you no longer have to clean up after him. And maybe you guys will meet up again after another 20 years. You'll have your own animal shelter then, and he; he will be promoted and rise up the ranks. And you'll tell him that you're happy for him.

Are you happy for him?

Jake bumps your shoulder and snaps you out of your intruding thoughts, looking up to find yourself halfway across the fully packed parking lot. Your vision wanders around to piece together how you got here.

Jake's voice rings in your ear. "I'm taking these."

You whip around to search for his face but he'd already snatched the keys you didn't remember that were in your hands and with a skip to their steps. Grasp acting a minute too late, you only caught the thin air in your hands.

"Hey!"

"I'm driving, whether you like it or not. It's time to bring these bad boys to action again." he smirked, exaggerating his stretch.

You lovingly rolled your eyes and tailed behind him. It's not bad being in the passenger seat once in a while. Your gaze shifts from what you would normally see; zoning out on licence plates and mismatched asphalts, but here on the passenger's side, you take in everything outside of the frame. The panoramic sky meets the horizon, palm trees reaching for the heavens, and the ocean as blue as it can be.

Jake steals a glance or two over in your direction, the silhouette of you basking in the fiery red aglow from the setting sun; hand tucked underneath your chin as you dream with the landscape passing you by, wind picking up your now burning red hair with the scent of July air, while some rock ballad plays softly on the radio. Sometimes, he noticed, how his eyes wander to you unintentionally, just like a moth to a flame, making his heart trip over its own rhythm. But, he would catch himself before you'd caught him doing so. 

"Hey, uh, I think tonight calls for a celebration for my speedy recovery. Whadaya think?” He said.

You pulled away from the blurry scenes to face him. You nod hesitantly. “Sure, where do you wanna go?”

He shrugs. “We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Home is fine. Let’s just order takeouts and chill.”

You let out a breathy smile and shake your head. “So, just like any other regular day then?”

“You’re right. But the difference is, I can drink again. And I won’t lie, I’m dying for a beer.” The corners of his lips are pulled to uncover a toothy grin that plays into your memory. But the thoughts of him returning to Top Gun nags at the back of your mind, and the queasy feeling bubbles at the pit of your stomach. Maybe tonight is all the time you have left with him.

Your living room isn’t exactly small; it could fit a good amount of creatures and creatures akin— maybe a dozen or so. However, the absurd amount of food Jake decided to order made your room seemingly feel like you are packed like sardines in a can. They even had to send two delivery guys just to turn this into one short trip.

A variety of food sprawled out along the coffee table, all decoratively half-eaten. Jake snickers at the dialogues played out from the flat screen while sinking into the final bite of his burrito. You couldn’t focus on what was on the screen as your thoughts pulled you in and out of the spiral; about you, about Jake, about what comes after.

You took another sip of wine that was sitting gingerly on the armrest and bite a piece of cake that’s been placed on your lap for the past twenty minutes, barely making a dent.

“What, it’s not to your liking?” His gravelly voice seeks its way to you.

Vision flickers down to the sweet treat, your brows furrow as you shake your head to deny his statement. 

“No, it’s—“ the words got caught in your throat, filtering through what might be the best answer for this. You don't dislike the cake; it's the right amount of sugar, but cherry anything does not belong in cakes. Now it tastes like—

"You're thinking it tastes like a couch, aren't you?" he booped the apples of your cheek, laughing out like a child. A cool, tacky residue melts with the heat of your skin, as you watch Jake licks off the remaining whipped cream off his finger.

Your eyes widen in horror, catching his wrist in your firm grasp. "Jake Seresin, you—"

The weight of him presses up against your body, closing whatever distance there was left between you and him over the couch. The warmth of his tongue grazes the surface of your silky skin from where the mess he made, the aftermath of his heat still lingers on your mind after its departure. The action alone made you jolt backwards but you were met with the armrest, entrapping you just inches away from him.

Questions firing rapidly in your mind, everything's muddled, fuzzy...entranced. His chromatic evergreen is raptured by the dark rings, you flicker between them in search of a rational answer. But, all you find is lust behind those eyes. The want of needing you, above all things.

Your grip slips, but in exchange, he's on yours. In one killing motion, he tugs you; like gravity, finding purchase on your lips. The sonorous feeling colours you in irisated colours, like a burn that warms your chest. Even so, you wanna know the answer to why. Why now?

Jake savours the sensation of you, just a sliver of cherry flavour residing could get his blood rushing to his head. What would happen to him if got to taste more of you? His hunger grew impatient. The slick of his tongue ran along the outline of your mouth, the resistance of you knew the danger if you went further with this. But, temptation tugs on your sleeves. Maybe just a peek wouldn't hurt.

"Don't think." the words hummed like a bassline from his chest.

Those were all you needed to part your lips under his command, giving in to your desires and the emptiness you've felt in his twenty-year absence. Your hands find their way entangled in his silken strands as he devours you deeper into the kiss, tongue tangled in searing heat. His hand searches its way to the side of your breast and tiptoes down to the curve, accentuating goosebumps under his touch. He reaches down, toying with the hem of your t-shirt and slips underneath. His fingertips slowly tread the skin that made you snap into a wake-up call, hands stopping him firmly on his chest. He pulls away.

"You—I...we're both drunk. This is a mistake..."

"Why do you keep taking yourself out of the equation when things feel right? Hm? This...this isn't a mistake. You're always too slow to realise some things, or maybe you're just scared to admit to it."

His lips pursed into a fine line and he let out a heavy sigh through his nose.

"You always kept me at an arm’s length; even when we were kids, you had a fear of getting hurt. But, you have no idea you're hurting other people in the process. And so, I let go. Thought that you would be happier and I'll burden this to myself. Every part of it.

His eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment, and the ambivalent feeling reverberated from his words. You don't know what to think, don't know how to feel. You never knew how he felt.

"I never stop thinking about you. Every minute of the day. It's always been you. D'you know how happy I was when I heard you moved here? I immediately wanted to reach out to you, but what am I supposed to say? Time stretched between us for too fucking long, and god, I hated myself because I don't want to be a stranger to you.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words could come out. All you could do is stare dumbfoundedly as he pours all his feelings out in this speck of time.

"So, I took a chance—the biggest and riskiest chance. I prayed that it shouldn't have come to this, but lo and behold, someone answered my prayers, in exchange for a part of me."

Anger courses through your veins after what you've just perceived, and you shake your head in frustration. 

"You can't say that! D'you know how fucking terrified I was; hearing you almost lost your goddamn life?! That I was gonna be the one that had to tell your mother that her son's gone. I cannot face her for the rest of my life." you choked.

"It was a stupid chance, but one to go as far as to realise what one would do for love. And I do. Always have, always will. And you need to accept that this is real between us."

Jake gently pushes a lost strand of hair behind your ear and cups your face, making your heart burn with an ache.

"It's okay to let yourself fall...because I do fucking love you. And it's not going to change."

The pad of his thumb swipes the tears you hadn't noticed that's been cascading down your cheek. You don’t know how long you’ve kept that feeling buried deep within you, but knowing that you can finally let go of all the fears and worries; knowing that you’re safe to fall into his arms is the best you have ever felt in your entire life. You can finally come to terms with that four-letter word that you always thought would never bestow on you—love.

How simple it is to feel, yet difficult it is to find. But it was always there, right in front of you. You just had to let go of your own reins.

His lips gravitate to yours once more, being certain and assertive with his intentions. His hands slip under, wasting no time, and pulling your t-shirt over your head and discarding it one side. His kisses trail along the underside of your jawline, leaving a searing hot sensation with every press of his lips. The gentle graze of his teeth nips the most delicate part of your skin, earning him an arousal moan out of you.

“I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You giggled at his temperament, watching how the slightest of moan could get him weak on his knees, anything else you do would make him beg for you. It took you less than a second to rip his shirt off and add it to the pile of clothing on the floor that’s building its way up. Before you know it, you both are observing one another’s naked figure, drinking in the outline of every curve and muscle. And the sight laid in front of you heats up a flame to your core.

Lips create a trail inch by inch down along your collarbone and carefully take in each breast, and tongue laps; drawing circles at your peak, rolling it in between his teeth. You gasp at the sensation, all too foreign but enticing you even more so. Hands slithering to the back of your knees, taking this invitation to entangle your legs around his rigid waist, rolling your hip against his growing member.

He bites down on his lips to stifle a groan. His dark eyes whip up and bore into you as a warning, playing too closely with fire and you might get burned by it. But what is love without a little burning flame?

He guides himself to your entrance, soaked with a sheen from just a few sloppy kisses. His breath hissed, having a taste with just the tip. But he can’t have you without your permission. You peered at him with heavily hooded eyes, dazed out from your high, you nod as a sign of approval. He slowly pushes in with ease; slick coated him as you devour him deeper, feeling a stretch of pain and pleasure as your body pressed up against his. 

“Fuck—“ your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades and branded his back with long streaks of crimson. The copper scent muddles your brain, all your thoughts dressed in white but shrouds your sight in red, loose lips calling out his name in a sultry voice. The grip of his conscience slips loose from him cursing under his breath, knowing the effect you have on him, threatening to come undone by just simply moaning his name. If the heavens witness this entanglement, angels would clip their wings to just get a little taste of you.

The air thickened and entangled with heat vapours and desperate pleas; heavy breaths roll and veil your skin, rippling a shiver down your spine. His pace sunders and hips keep in time with you, each wave bringing you closer and closer to your high, twitching under his commotion. Your breath draws short, catching his attention to your finish line.

"I-I can't—"

The air in your lungs hitches as your mind sears in white hot vision, toes curl and twitch in ecstasy and screaming out his name like your own prayer. Jake follows shortly behind, bucking into you with a tender moan and soft cursing in your hair, dampened by the beads of sweat. He collapses on top of you for a short moment, before rolling to his side and pulling you closer to him, examining every little detail of your face.

In turn, you cup his face and trace little circles beneath his eye, gravitating your lips and capturing his, delicate and feverish, imprinting a piece of you for him to take, and filling the missing piece of your soul, even if you parted with him.

His lids drift close, pressing his forehead against yours, searching for your comfort and dreaming of you as he sleeps.

You hummed, whispering under your breath, "I love you, Jake Seresin."

*

Funny how you've never expected yourself to be in the middle of a desert. Nor go anywhere near a military station, yet here we are; fingers drumming along the steering wheel, at the gates just outside of Fightertown. You look over to Jake; his foot tapping anxiously against the floor of your Yugo. Now he won't even fucking look at you.

"Will you stop sulking for two minutes?" you sigh, twisting your body to face his silhouette.

Jake finally turns to meet your gaze; chewing the inside of his cheek to suppress his annoyance. "No. Now I'm regretting everything."

You smirk at his childlike remark, clasping a hand on his shoulder and giving it a good squeeze. "Jackal, you know this was going to happen. So why are you regretting it now?"

"Because I only had you, officially, for what, 7-8 hours? And now I have to go back to work." He reaches up and takes your hand in his, leaning in, giving you a small kiss in between your knuckles. He sighs. "I don't wanna leave you yet, cupcake."

His little sympathetic frown pasted on his face, and the shine to his olive green eyes could almost break your heart in two. Almost. Your lips quivered, expressing the most dramatic faux sniffle and said, "Aw, honey." Your face grows cold. "I've only had two hours of sleep, if I stayed in bed with you anymore, I think my back will finally give out."

"Oh, was I that good?" the shit-eating grin returns. You hate to admit it, but that obnoxious, Hollywood smile is starting to grow on you. What kind of dark magic has he cast on you to make you fall hopelessly for him? He caused nothing but trouble, still, you can't help but love his handsome face and his cocky attitude. Especially his annoying quality and the blue, frail bits that he embodies.

A blast of a car horn snaps you both out of your little theatrical play, and your gaze flicks towards where the sound originated from. You watched as a tan uniformed man struts out from the Jeep; deep, chocolate skin with specks of gold shimmering off from the sun. Oh shit. Do all aviators look that good? You swipe the corner of your mouth to make sure you're not drooling.

"Y/n, honey. I'm still the one you love right?" Jake looks back and forth between you and the pilot, with a mild concern in his tone of voice.

"Mhm. Yep. Still yours." You nod vigorously, eyes wide as you connect with him. But Jake still isn't convinced.

"Seriously, I promise...now get out, Seresin." you draped yourself over him and pushed the car door open, an opportunity to give him another good glance of your ass in those tight-fitted jeans as an affirmation.

He whistles. "Alright, they can't survive without me anyway." Slinking the army green duffle bag over his shoulder, he gives you a final wink before greeting his teammate, pulling him into a hug and a slap on the back. You watched as Jake whispers something into his ear and they both turn to look at you. The pilot drew a million-watt smile.

"Y/n, right? Coyote. Heard a lot about you." he announced.

"Ah, so you're Coyote. Heard a lot about you too. Nice to meet you in the flesh!" You leaned forward, sending him a small wave. Jake wasn't lying, a wild Coyote appeared right in front of your eyes. Even much better than what you imagined.

"Well, I'll keep in touch," Jake grimaced.

You nod, lips pressed together, choking back a tear that's threatening to escape. You got used to his presence, the confidence and his admiration, now you felt empty without it.

"Oh, and also," His quick steps jog back to you, a hand slips under your jaw and tilts you to meet with his gaze. He dips, locking into a kiss, with your eyes closed to feel the tenderness and savour this feverish dream. He reluctantly parts with you, the remnant of forlorn feelings lingers but he pulls away from you before he starts having second thoughts. Jake makes his way back, without detaching your face from his sight.

"By the way, your mother gave us her blessing. And I really think we should consider adopting Captain...he's starting to grow on me." He said, coolly.

"Uh, what?"

"What?!"

The shock of information dumped onto you left you and Coyote's mouths hanging wide open. Even the guard standing watch was stunned by what he just witnessed. The disconnection between your brain and ears entangled your thoughts. You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around what you just heard. And you hope you heard it wrong. But Jake just nods gleefully, witnessing the shade of red building up on your face.

"See you on Saturday!" Jake yells, a cheerful singsong to his voice, happily laughing to himself as they drive off, leaving you stunned in the trail of dust kicked up from the Jeep.

Here, you promise and swore to yourself, that the next time you see Jake, you will lovingly choke the ever-living life out of him. Saturday couldn't come any sooner.

P.S: Thank you for sticking with me till the end of the series(?) I don't write fanfic much, this was originally supposed to be a 2-3k fic and somehow I self-indulged too much and magically turned into an 11k series...😅 I've read every tag and comments y'all wrote and I am very thankful for it, it makes me so happy!

Tag: @shanimallina87 @itzyogurl92 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dempy

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: LIKE, COMMENT, OR REBLOG IF YOU WANT TO STAY IN THE TAGLIST otherwise I'll delete you from it! Not to be rude I just kinda feel like I'm spamming accounts without meaning to jsdjsd -Danny Words: 2,706 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'As A Child' -by Madeline The Person

II. Thanks for Checking In! I'm Still a Piece of Garbage

Ara's doing her best, but Leo's not listening, he's just trying to remember where he's seen Ara before.

"Do I get a sword?" He interrupts her as soon as they walk past the arena.

"Your cabin makes its own weapons."

"My cabin? You mean Vulcan's?" He smirks. 

"Hephaestus," Ara replies plainly, Leo wonders if she's capable of smiling.

"Festus?" He tries again. "Sounds like the god of cowboys."

"Hephaestus. God of blacksmiths and fire and all that stuff Annabeth said," Ara repeats absently.

Leo makes a face, he's thinking of the term "God of fire", but Ara doesn't know that. "So the flaming hammer over my head—Good thing or bad thing?"

"Normal thing," she shrugs. "Everyone gets claimed as soon as they get here..." She glances in the direction of the forest.

Percy doesn't look at me like I'm a hindrance, he needs a friend, and I want one, so there is understanding between us. Also, I'm very low maintenance so he appreciates the simple company. I'm weaving with the naiads while Percy and Grover talk beside me.

"How was your conversation with Mr. D?"

"Fine," Grover pouts. "Just great."

"So your career's still on track?"

The satyr yelps. "Chiron t-told you I want a searcher's licence?"

"Well... no. He just said you had big plans, you know... and that you needed credit for completing a keeper's assignment. So did you get it?"

"Mr. D suspended judgement. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete."

"Well, that's not so bad, right?"

"Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest... and even if you did, why would you want me along?"

"Of course I'd want you along!"

"What about me?" I ask distractedly.

"I don't see why not," Percy grins. 

"Ara?"

She gives a start. "Whatcha say?"

"That dude from a while ago... he mentioned a curse."

Ara dismisses it with annoyance. "Cabin nine's fine, their old counselor passed away and—"

"What? Like, painfully?" Leo asks in worry.

"There was a war," she answers briefly. "Don't ask."

"Why are you giving me the tour?" He proceeds quickly, too curious to think about one thing for more than just a few seconds. "Are we siblings?"

"No, that would've made things easier in the past..." She makes a face.

"Which one's your cabin, then? That thing Annabeth called you... What was it? Daughter of—"

"Olympus," Ara sighs tiredly. "It's a long story."

Leo's getting tired of her ambiguity. "Alright. Whatever. But you have divine blood, right?"

"Yeah," Ara admits. "But don't dwell on it too much, it's nothing special."

"Chiron said you thought I might be something special."

I open my mouth to speak, but Grover shuts me up. I look at him in annoyance, being the guardian of a demigod as powerful as Percy is a great opportunity for a satyr like him! Why doesn't he want Percy to know? 

"Listen, don't think like that," he replies. "If you were—you know—you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my licence. You're probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?"

Percy nudges my leg once Grover leaves. "You were about to say something."

I don't want him to get angry... but also, children of the big three never get happy endings. Percy's destined to fight for his life until he yields. That sucks. I won't be the one to break it to him.

"I had a satyr," I say quietly. "And I'm nothing special. Don't worry."

"That old lady..." the boy tenses. "What's she doing here?"

Ara freezes, her voice comes out frightened. "You see her too?"

Leo notices her reaction and gets even more nervous. "She's not supposed to be here... right?"

"Listen... you see something like that, you walk away. Nothing good comes from old ladies," Ara pushes him forward by the shoulder.

Leo pulls out pipe cleaners from the pocket of his army jacket and starts playing with them. "Do you know who that was, though?"

"No," she wraps Nico's jacket tighter around herself, the camp doesn't let winter in, but she's feeling a chill. "Let's go to your cabin."

"Alright," he tries to keep up the lively tone in his voice. "I'm in the mood for a good curse." 

The last time she saw weird things at camp, was during Percy's first arrival. Ara keeps throwing nervous glances at Leo, she can't shake the feeling that he's got something to do with it.

He whistles lowly as cabin nine comes into view. "They got a steampunk theme going on, huh?"

Ara looks at her old cabin wistfully. "Yours is one of my favorites, but you didn't hear it from me."

Leo's eyes brighten a little as he continues to look, then he shakes his head, and his expression hardens for a moment. Ara considers checking on him, but if a person doesn't want to talk about their feelings, she should respect that.

The rest of the campers avoid Percy after he gets claimed, I approach him and greet him like always, but he glares at me. "You're still talking to me?"

I stop halfway, and my smile falters. "I'll stop if you want."

Percy stops. "I didn't mean... everyone's acting like a jerk."

"Yes. It's not good..." My eyes widen a little as I reply. "Annabeth thinks her quest has to do with you."

"Yeah, I heard," he sizes me up. "Hey... wanna train with me?"

"Aren't you training with Luke?"

"I could use a five-minute break in between. Only if you want though, I know you don't like swords."

"I like them plenty," I frown. "But I'm too small for the ones we have here, or that's what everyone says when I pick one up..."

"How will you get better if you don't train?" Percy offers the handle of his sword to me. "Try it."

My fingers brush his knuckles as I reach for the weapon, and my heart shrinks with an unpleasant feeling. Most of the time, I have to focus to feel stuff, but Percy's grief is lethal if I can sense it by merely grazing his skin.

"I'll train with you," I swallow the lump in my throat.

He doesn't like my reaction. "If it scares you—"

I hug him, the grief suffocating me even more. "I want to help."

Silena has grown protective of me since I told her I had this power. She says is "Empath's touch". I can feel other people's feelings and I can take parts of them to lessen the intensity. That's okay with me, no one should go through stuff alone.

"Can I ask you something? Promise to keep it a secret?" Percy inquires as I step away. "Is it normal for a demigod... to have weird dreams?"

"They're not dreams," I reply. "They're messages someone's sending you."

"Does everyone have them?"

I shrug. "Lots of campers have them, it's normal."

"You had any?"

I tilt my head. "They don't mean anything."

Percy frowns. "Fine..."

"I mean," I continue, "my dreams... it doesn't make sense to anyone, but I know I'm right. My dreams are memories. From my past lives."

"Wait, so..." he blinks. "You have reborn?"

"I shouldn't be able to remember," I admit. "Don't tell anybody, please."

He offers his pinky and I link it with my own. "You remember who you were and everything?"

I shake my head. "Not really. I just see bits of stuff..."

"That's interesting," Percy says as we reach the arena. "If you discover what that's about, do tell me."

"If you have funny dreams you'd like to share I'm here, and I like gossip."

He pats my shoulder and then spots Luke, he hesitates. "You sure you wanna stay?"

I pat his hand. "I won't leave you."

"A weed whacker?" Leo approaches the nearest wall. "What's the god of fire want with a weed whacker?"

"You'd be surprised," a boy in a full-body cast appears on a bunk bed. "I'm Jake Mason. I'd shake your hand, but..."

"Yeah, don't get up."

"Hi, Jack-Jack," the girl gives him half a smile. "You look great."

"Shut up, Ara," Jake groans, then looks at Leo. "Welcome to Cabin Nine, been almost a year since we had any new kids. I'm head counselor for now."

"For now?"

Jake ignores his question and speaks to Ara. "I hope this isn't taking too much of your time..."

"You know I'm here to help," she shrugs it off. "Where's everybody?"

"Forges. They're working on... you know, our problem."

Ara's smile goes away instantly. She clears her throat. "Right. I'll check on them in a moment. You got a bed for Leo?"

Jake eyes the boy carefully. "You believe in curses, Leo? Or ghosts?"

"Ghosts? Pfft. Nah. I'm cool. A storm spirit chucked me down the Grand Canyon this morning, but you know, all in a day's work, right?"

Jake nods, missing Leo's joke entirely. Hephaestus kids don't have the quickest wits when it comes to humor. "That's good. Because I'll give you the best bed in the cabin: Beckendorf's."

Ara's breath catches in her throat, and her voice comes out slightly squeaky. "Are you sure?"

"Bunk 1-A, please."

The bed rises up from under the floor, and Leo jumps onto it happily. Ara feels a little insulted, but she bites her tongue. "I can handle this."

 "It retracts into a private room below," Jake adds.

"Oh, heck, yes," he grins. "See y'all. I'll be down in the Leo Cave. Which button do I press?"  He gives her a playful look. "Wanna join me?"

Her face twists in disgust, but Leo is used to girls looking at him that way, so he's not bothered in the least, if anything, it only makes him want to annoy her further. Jake clears his throat, wanting to save his new brother from Ara. "Well, Leo, if you don't mind sleeping in a dead man's bed, it's yours."

The boy sits up abruptly. "The counselor who died... this was his bed?" 

"Yeah, Charles Beckendorf."

"He didn't, like, die in this bed, did he?"

"No. In the Titan War, last summer."

Ara feels exhausted every time someone mentions the war. Lately, her life's been plagued with losses, and remembering takes so much energy from her... she recalls every little detail, all the moments that led to this moment, and studies them in her head one by one. She can't stop.

"The Titan War," Leo's eyes are on her, "which has nothing to do with this very fine bed?" 

"You'll be safe and comfy there," Ara replies numbly. "Kronos killed half of our campers during the battle, but we didn't fight him here—"

"I'm guessing this wasn't on the news?"

Ara frowns, intrigued by his ignorance. "Were you, Jason, and Piper together this whole time?"

"Er... no," he answers. "No, I was er... on the run, I guess. I met Jason and Piper like, a few months ago. Last August."

"When the war ended," Ara's brows furrow even more.

"You were lucky to miss it," Jake says. "The thing is, Beckendorf was one of the first casualties, and ever since then—"

"Your cabin's been cursed," Leo guesses.

"That's what they think," Ara intervenes. "But I've been working this whole time—"

"Jackson, you're the only one getting things done," Jake snorts and looks back at Leo. "She's the gods' favored one. Ara doesn't know how it is for us, regular campers."

She's never liked being pushed aside, it used to happen because she was good for nothing, but now it's happening because she's too much of everything. She doesn't know how to change that.

Ara looks around the cabin while the boys talk, and after the counselor closes his bed curtains, Leo is ready to pick up their conversation. "What did Jake mean when he said 'regular campers' as if you're not one of them?"

"'Cause I'm the Strategus, remember? But I don't feel different, I'm the same girl I was five months ago..." She leaves the cabin with Leo following close. "You want to know what happened?"

The boy smirks, happy to finally get some answers. "I'm listening."

"I knew almost as soon as I saw you," I nudge Percy's arm. "Who your dad was."

He keeps his eyes ahead, he's wet and grumpy. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to scare you. But I could tell 'cause you smell like the sea," he sniffs his armpit, but the rain makes it impossible to distinguish. "Anyway, this is nice."

"How is any of this nice?" He scowls.

"Well, I don't do much at camp, and it's been years since I was out..."

"That thing you did on the bus," he replies, referring to what I did to the furies. "What was that?"

"Charmspeak. I convince people to do things."

"Do all Aphrodite kids have it?"

"A few," I answer. "Some can change their appearance at will, some are good at pairing up people—but Silena doesn't like doing that, the real matchmakers are rare—others can sense people's feelings. I have that too."

"Like a satyr?"

"Yeah, but I have to touch you in order to feel anything, Grover can do it without contact."

"So you have charmspeak, and you feel other people's feelings," Percy recounts. "Anything else I should be careful with around you?"

I grin. "Nah, I'm not dangerous."

"So Beckendorf was popular around here?"

"He was a veteran, so we all sorta looked up to him. Jake became a counselor after we lost him, and he doesn't like it. Lots of kids had to take leadership positions without warning during the war, it was hard on all of us."

"So that's what happened to you?"

"No, I got my title after the war ended. I don't have a cabin. I chose..."

"You chose what?"

"To be of use."

"Percy's being reckless, you don't want to be like that."

"He's allowed to be angry!" I whisper in annoyance.

Annabeth scowls. "Don't be like Percy. He's dumb and impulsive."

"So am I. Impulsive I mean, not—"

"But you're..." my friend stops before completing her sentence, but I know what she was about to say. Not strong.

I sigh and shake my head. "I won't do anything stupid, don't worry."

"What's the problem Jake mentioned?" Leo continues, he's alright when he's not trying to be funny.

Ara makes a face. "After the war, their creations started to malfunction. A year ago I convinced Beck to rescue your cabin's most impressive—Oh, here we are! The forges."

Her old friends salute her, then all eyes land on Leo. "Hey," she greets them. "Got you a new brother. This is Leo... er..."

"Valdez," he scans the group, new campers are always surprised to find out they're not the only children of their godly parent.

Everyone approaches to say hi, Ara looks at them proudly, most of them are kept to themselves, but they're all sweet. She notices their injuries and her guilt increases.

"Well, all right!" Leo raises his voice. "I hear this is the party cabin!"

There is no reaction to his comment. Ara has to bite her lip to not chuckle out of pity. "Right," she clears her throat. "You think you can take care of him, Nyssa?"

"I got it," the girl steps forward.

"Cool," Leo eyes her reluctantly. "I always wanted a sister who could beat me up."  Ara snorts, and he perks up at the sound. "There we go!"

"Thank the gods!" A boy cheers sarcastically. "I was starting to think she got switched with a robot..."

"Hey, show respect to your General!" They hear a loud thud.

"Ouch! She was our friend first, wasn't she? We can tease her a little!" The boy complains.

"And at heart, she's still little Ara from cabin ten," Nyssa teases her.

"The difference is that now I can kick your ass now if you're not careful," the girl warns her, half-serious.

Nyssa smirks and crosses her arms. "Aphrodites! Always so feisty."

"Aphrodite?" Leo asks in shock. "You're from the Barbie Malibu Cabin?"

Everyone goes back to work and Nyssa whistles lowly, looking away. 

"So what if I am?" Ara's expression hardens.

The boy messed up, but he doesn't understand why. "I mean... everyone saying you're... you don't really... oh man, can someone shut me up?"

"Good idea," Ara glances at him coldly before turning away. "Oh, and watch your hands, Leo, it'll suck if you lose a finger on your first week, and most amateurs do. See you, Nyssa."

Leo scowls at her insult. Alright, he messed up, but she's acting like she's this mighty being above human error since they met, and that's getting on his nerves too.

Nyssa looks at them with a smirk. "See you, Birdy! C'mon, joker boy, I'll show you around..."

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @ash-the-hoarder @mmhmcreature @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @rainestorm2556 @ocanaug @owlalex44 @gamergirlsstuff886 @solangelo-enthusiast-girlypop @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen

[cor-lapis-candy]

(props to @albedosarmpit for bouncing this idea at me a few days ago but for Scara, but I went what if it was with omega biuld Dottore? Like modern au, he's a piercer and the youngest of identical triplets)

CW for drugging a little later down, will be after a read more.

Dottore the piercer and licenced body mod specialist, he does all the legal piercings you can ask for and all the body mods the state allows him too, and many many more that he knows he can't but that between him, the extra cash those clients pay and the chair and table back at his home.

If it hadn't been for his fellow piercer calling out sick you would have had Scaramouche the grouch do your tongue bar and upper ear set, but no you ended up with Dottore, sharp smiling, deep voiced Dottore, who upon showing you to his little section of the studio had you pinned and planned before you had even gotten to showing him the jewelry you wanted.

He could almost taste the need for more work after you let him mark his points, the hitched breath, the flicking eyes to watch as he began his work, all the way to how you left your mouth open and drooling after he had done the tongue bar and cleaned it up. You would be back, he knew it, you would be one of his clients for life and if he had his way maybe the first to let him do a few more... Unsanitary procedures he had been eager to try out.

After all there were only so many times he could deal with some brat wanting pointed ears or a split tongue before it became boring, illegal yes but boring.

Oh how good you could look sprawled across his table, high on his little stock of anesthesia as he does a few more personal piercings, a nice set of shiny silver nipple studs, a belly bar to connect to the fresh nipple set, maybe he could even get you to agree to a more pleasurable piece, a nice ring or bar that he could play with his tongue after it was done? You would be too far gone anyway.

Even better is the thought that you would never realise he is the youngest of triples, the shared face and near the same voices often trip people up, how would you react to having him, familiar little old him lips pressed to one of his fresh pieces drooling some random bottle of alcohol onto the bar only to watch as another one of him appears to do much the same to the still stinging nipple bars, digging his fingers into the flesh of your chest as he breaths hot air on to the exposed skin.

God, you would be perfect, he would make sure of it...

[canirove]

Bluebell | Chapter 7

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Thank you so much for coming, Rúben. I know you probably are busy with everything that has been going on lately.”

“Nah, don’t worry. I actually needed some fresh air, a change of scenery” he says.

“How are things with my cousin?” I dare to ask.

“Well… The being angry days are over, and now she is on the crying ones, constantly texting me and sending me photos of how horrible she looks with her swollen eyes and her mascara all over her face.”

“Yikes.”

Rúben and Victoria had broken up a couple of weeks after Mrs. Smart told me there were problems between them. When it happened, she apparently went nuts, throwing things out the window. My uncle had been going around saying it had only been a fight, that they were still together. But this week, Rúben started moving his things out, going back to his old flat. And the whole town saw him. There was no coming back.

“So, when are you planning on reopening?”

“I’m not sure… First I have to deal with all the paperwork, then call the people my father used to hire and work with to see if they are available, then I’ll probably have to wash and clean everything, start using the website again and do something on social media… The list is long.”

I had finally decided to stay. Mainly because I couldn’t let my uncle ruin this place and everything my father had worked for, destroy it just because he was stupid and needed money. But also because I had fallen in love with this town and the life here. It was slower than in the city, and it was just what I needed. And yes, maybe the people I had met also had something to do with it.

Mason and I were still seeing each other, though just as friends. On Champions League nights I would go to the pub and help him if he needed it, which usually led to me staying there until the next morning. Or afternoon. But just as friends. With really good benefits, but just friends.

“Step by step” Rúben says with a smile. Rúben. He may also be one of the reasons I decided to stay. Besides making my days feel instantly better just by seeing him walking around being stupidly hot and handsome, there was something about him that reminded me of home, of my old life, but not in a bad way. And that feeling was definitely helping me not to feel so homesick.

“But are you sure you can be here? That you don’t have things to do as the Mayor?” I say, air quoting those two last words.

“The Mayor” he says, doing the same gesture I just did and making fun of me, “is there to help the people in his town. You are one of them now, and I am helping you, so” he shrugs.

“Ok, then. Where should we start?”

“Let’s make sure all the licences are up to date. We don’t want surprises.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

“Tea?” I ask. Rúben and I have been going through all the paperwork for what feels like hours, and my eyes are starting to hurt.

“Please. But let me help you with it. I can’t feel my bum anymore.”

“Ok” I laugh.

“Wow” he says as he walks into the kitchen.

“I know, it is chaos. But yesterday I was in the mood for baking and…”

“And it didn’t go as planned” he chuckles.

“It did not. Dixie ended up eating it all.”

“Poor Dixie.”

“Rude” I say, sticking out my tongue and making him laugh. God, his laugh. I bet that’s how angels sound. “Anyway, do you want anything with your tea? A toast with marmalade, perhaps?”

“Not a big fan of that.”

“You don’t like it?” I say, raising both my eyebrows. “Of course you don’t. Too much sugar and you need to keep… that.”

“Keep what?” he asks with a smirk.

“That” I say, moving my hand up and down in front of him. “I have fruit, tho. From the market, no surprises inside it. That probably is more your jam.”

“Oh, God” he says, laughing again. “My jam?”

“I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t mean to” I say, also laughing.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━      

“You sure you don’t want a bite?” I say, putting some marmalade on my toast.

“I’m happy with my apple. But thank you.”

“Your loss” I say, giving it a big bite. “It is so good, tho. Homemade.”

“And now it is all over your face” Rúben laughs.

“No way.”

“Here, let me help you” he says, putting down his apple and moving to where I am. He is holding my face with one hand, the thumb from the other moving over the corner of my mouth. And meanwhile, I’m praying for my knees to stop shaking and not give up. “Done” he says, showing me his thumb. “Now what?”

“Now you lick it.”

“I don’t like marmalade. And I can’t eat it if I want to stay like this, remember?” he smirks. “You lick it. Open your mouth.”

“I’m sorry?” I say, my voice sounding all shaky.

“Open your mouth. Lick it” Rúben says.

“I…”

“I’m waiting.”

“Ok” I finally say, opening my mouth and licking his thumb just as he asked me to, his eyes fixed on mine.

“Good girl” he says, smirking again. “Very… very good girl” he continues, his thumb now caressing my lower lip and making me gasp. And before I have time to do anything else, he is kissing me. Or to be more precise, he is devouring me. I had never been kissed like that, with that hunger and passion. I am barely able to breath, to kiss him back.

And he doesn’t stop as his hands move from my face to my butt, grabbing it before lifting me in the air and sitting me on the kitchen’s counter, putting my legs around him, making us be even closer.

“Rúben” I whisper when he finally lets go of my mouth and moves to my neck, his hands everywhere under my clothes.

“I need you… I want you” he says, coming back to my lips, to kissing them with the same intensity as before while lifting me from the counter and carrying me upstairs. He walks into the first room he finds, laying on the bed with me while still kissing me, touching me, my body burning. “Do you want me stop?” he asks, resting his forehead on mine, finally stopping to catch his breath.

I’m just able to shake my head, my body pinned under his.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“No. I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good. Because I don’t know what I would have done if you had said yes” he smiles.

“Use your hand, I guess.”

“I guess” he says, his thumb going back to my lower lip. “I must warn you about something tho… I don’t like doing it… gently. So talk to me, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Good girl” he says, going back to devouring me.

[theresawritesstuff]

A stressed out Lenny telling the kids that they don’t cause him stress

First of all, and I say this affectionately, how dare you? The feelings inflicted when first reading this prompt… Anyway, enjoy!

***

Lenny lit another cigarette as he sat down at his typewriter (again) after a contemplative (anxious) bout of pacing. 

He was hanging onto his cabaret licence by the skin of his teeth and had taken up some writing gigs to help them through while he was laying low at the insistence of his lawyers.

He and Midge had only been married for a few months. And up until the ticking time bomb on his career had (more imminently) threatened to explode, they had been by far the happiest months of his entire life.

He'd been staying clean, enjoying getting a second chance at fatherhood, at doing right by Kitty as well as Ethan and Esther.

He had a stable partner he could trust. Someone who loves him.

He just couldn't seem to stop getting arrested.

He tried to skirt the line, play nice. But he knew deep down he'd still say what he really meant.

And so did the boys in blue.

So he'd traded punchlines for deadlines.

Because as much as he didn't want to lose his career, he couldn't lose being with his family.

He'd be lying if he said the stress didn't have him jonesing for a hit, even now, over a year clean.

He took a long, steady drag as he stared down at the blank page in front of him, letting the lesser vice take a little of the edge off.

It didn't help much but it was something.

Now if he could just get this damn article written…

A sharp, persistent knock at the front door broke his concentration.

He ignored it.

Then they found the doorbell.

With a final groan, Lenny got up to answer the door, if for no other reason then to tell whoever it was to fuck off.

"Joel?"

"Lenny…" The younger man shifted his weight, averting his eyes awkwardly as an Ethan shaped blur bounded past him and into the apartment, followed shortly by Esther. 

Lenny glanced back over his shoulder, trying to trace the kids' trajectory.

Midge's ex stepped passed him inside, and he allowed it, if nothing else but out of curiosity as to why his stepkids were being brought back early and unannounced.

Joel got ahead of the question, explaining brusquely, "Look, I know I'm supposed to have them until tomorrow but there's an emergency down at the club I gotta take care of."

"Delivery running late?" Lenny snarked, taking another drag.

Joel shot him an indignant look. "No. I let Archie hire this acrobatics act. But I guess they're part of some rival family to the Lins and now they're in a standoff with each other and Archie is trapped under the bar."

He ducked his head into the hallway, calling out, "Hey Midge, you've got two more for dinner!"

Lenny exhaled slowly.

How had she ever been married to this schmuck?

"Midge isn't home. She's got a gig," Lenny informed him.

Joel looked up at him startled.

He shouldn't be. It wasn't an abnormal occurrence. Her career had really taken off since she started featuring on Gordon's show regularly.

'Can't you call her and have her cancel?"

Lenny stubbed out his cigarette in an ash tray rather than dignify the question by looking at him.

"No."

Joel shifted his weight. "I don't suppose Zelda…"

Lenny exhaled tiredly. "Zelda doesn't work for us."

She had been kind enough to drop off Kitty at a friend's slumber party for him tonight so he could focus on meeting his deadline, but Joel didn't need to know that.

"Right. But maybe Abe and Rose…"

"They're in DC. They won't be dropping by this evening either."

"Oh."

The awkward silence that fell between them was split by their mutual son yelling from the other room.

"Esther, did you take my superman comics?!"

"Noooo!" came his sister's reply, from somewhere else in the apartment.

Lenny winced.

These kids were picking up one too many loud Maisel family habits…

He rubbed his temple as Joel continued to vacillate in the hall entry. "Just go. I'll handle it."

Joel looked down the hall after the kids, uncertain. "You seem busy. Maybe I could call–"

"Door is behind you in case you forgot," Lenny reminded him, walking away.

Joel started to follow at his heels. "You know my folks are only–"

"Joel," Lenny snapped, halting in his tracks. He exhaled slowly, remembering to lower his volume for the sake of the kids. "Whether you like it or not, I am these kids' stepfather now. Caring for them was part of the job description. They're safer here than in a gang war. I've got this. Go. Before Archie earns himself a purple heart protecting the good booze."

As much as he clearly hated it, the younger man knew he was right. "Okay… yeah, okay."

Without a word to the kids, he turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

"Fuck," Lenny muttered under his breath.

He trudged into the kitchen and began looking through the pantry for something to feed the three of them.

"Lenny! Esther took my–"

"We have other books here, you know. You don't have to fight over the newsprints," Lenny sighed, not up for playing referee.

"...Okay." 

Ethan hovered skeptically at his elbow. "What are you doing?"

"You kids haven't had dinner yet," he reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but…Do you even know how to cook?"

Lenny bit his tongue. "Fed myself just fine most of my life."

"Esther doesn't like canned beans," Ethan reminded him.

"I wasn't looking for– You know what? I think Imogene left a meatloaf or something here last time she was over. Let's do that," he suggested, pivoting towards the fridge.

"Isn't it frozen?" Ethan wondered. 

Lenny shrugged as he rummaged through the ice box. "So we'll bump the oven up a bit. It will be fine."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Meatloaf acquired, he placed the pan in the oven and turned it on, letting it do it's thing.

"There. Toss in a few potatoes and we'll be eating within the hour. Think you'll survive?"

Ethan nodded.

"Good. Now go do your homework or something while I work on churning out this article. And no pestering each other while I do, got it?"

His son nodded again.

"Good."

After scrubbing a couple of potatoes and unceremoniously tossing them in with the meatloaf, he was back to his typewriter.

He'd managed to write two paragraphs before the sound of crashing plates met his ears.

He found Esther perched on the countertop, looking down completely mortified over a broken plate on the floor, the other unbroken dishes clutched tight in her little hands.

'Esther, what are you doing?" Lenny sighed, picking her up off the counter and setting her down.

Fancy fucking schools with fucking jungle gyms teaching these kids to climb.

"I just wanted to help," she said.

'Okay just don't touch that. You'll cut yourself," he warned, stopping her before she could pick up the broken plate. "Just go play. I'll get the broom."

"Sorry," she whispered.

Poor kid just wanted to set the table.

"It's just a plate sweetie. We've got others," he assured her.

"Lenny?" Ethan popped his head back in the kitchen.

He let out a groan, kneeling tiredly on the linoleum. "Yeah?"

"Is meatloaf supposed to smell like that?"

Lenny sniffed.

"Shit."

He scrambled for an oven mitt, pulling the pan from the oven.

The sauce Imogene had slathered on top was scorched. The inside, upon inspection, remained raw.

"Damn it," Lenny whispered, tossing the oven mitt down in defeat, sinking into a chair.

"Sorry pop dropped us on you," Ethan murmured quietly.

"We can have peanut butter sandwiches or something," Esther suggested.

Lenny looked up at his kids, because blood or not they were his now too as far as he was concerned.

"This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault, understood?"

The pair nodded quietly. Appeasingly.

Damnit…

Lenny rubbed his brow tiredly. "Look… I'm not gonna lie to you kids, your old man didn't pick a great night to drop in unannounced, but that doesn't mean I want you kids gone. You are the least stressful part of my evening. I love you. You know that, right?"

Esther draped her little arms around his shoulders quietly. "We love you, too."

After a moment, Ethan asked, "Do we even have peanut butter right now?"

Lenny smirked.

"Your mom was planning on getting groceries tomorrow."

"Oh…"

"Tell you what." Lenny tapped the table, getting to his feet. "Go find something to watch on TV. We'll do popcorn and a movie together."

"What about your article?" Esther wondered.

 "I'll work on my article later. Right now I'm focusing on spending time with you two."

Ethan looked at him skeptically. "You sure?"

Lenny smirked, hefting the bag of corn kernels from the pantry in his hand. "Your mother's been telling me I need to take a break anyway. Don't tell her this but I think she might be right."

That finally earned a genuine smile from the kids.

"Off you go. You know where the remote is," he shooed good-naturedly, smiling to himself as he watched them scamper off.

Maybe a break really is what he needed.

Later that night, Midge tiptoed in, pausing at the doorway to the living room at the sight of a blanket fort in the middle of the room, her son's distinctive snore emanating from somewhere inside. 

Popcorn bowls were stacked neatly by the remote, and the sound of rhythmic typing bandied back and forth with Ethan's snoring.

She found Lenny in his office, typing away, looking more himself than he had in weeks.

"Hey," she murmured from the doorway.

He looked up with that soft smile he saved only for her. "Hey."

"Did you know Ethan and Esther are–"

He nodded, looking over his work for errors. "Joel had an emergency. I got the better end of the deal. How was the gig?"

"Good. Great crowd."

"The Copa knows how to pack 'em in."

She smiled, coming in to stand behind him, kissing his cheek before draping her arms around his neck. "You seem to have had a busy night."

He shrugged, inclining his face towards hers. "All in a night's work."

"Looks like you finally had a breakthrough."

Lenny chuckled. "Something like that. Almost finished."

"I'll leave you to it then," she offered, patting his shoulder.

"Hey…" He reached up, holding her hand tight before she could slip away. "In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I really love this little family we've cobbled together."

Midge melted just a touch, marveling at the little ways he could still make her fall in love with him all over again.

Bending down, she gave him a lingering kiss, resting her head against his when they parted.

"We're lucky to have you."

[toolshed-marshwalker]

Stan: learns to drive ASAP, drives his dad's old car. Kind of reckless but not actually dangerous. Takes drinking and driving VERY seriously but also does not give a single shit if he hits a curb. Always has to move shit out of the way for people to sit in the car. Has specific driving playlists. Will drive literally anywhere for any reason. Will drive to the mailbox which is a block away. Will drive other people. For a price.... (gas money)

Kyle: is taught how to drive by his dad who drives freakishly slow and consequently kyle also drives very slow. He has terrible road rage and will not move the car until you have your seatbelt on. He drives one of his parents nice cars (rarely) or the family station wagon, which is always clean and always has phone chargers/gum/nets on the back of the seats/etc. Has to spend 10 minutes readjusting mirrors and the seat placement when he gets in the car. He is NOT a driving service and you can WALK to school, Douchebag. Kyle offering to drive is a SPECIAL OCCASION. You WILL help with gas money. Do NOT touch the aux cord his dad will KILL him. Always uses a GPS even when he knows where he's going.

Cartman: doesn't drive. Gets driven everywhere and is a total passenger princess who complains about every song that plays he didn't explicitly choose. Is the reason kyle and stan learn to keep napkins in their cars.

Kenny: has actually known how to drive since he was like 11. Has driven without a drivers license for years. He's like 20 by the time he actually gets a legal drivers licence but he's such a good driver no one ever finds out. Has been known to drive high once or twice but its very rare. He drives a repaired version of the shitty old junk pile his dad called a truck that sat on their front lawn. He won't drive if he can save gas money by walking. He'll drive you anywhere anytime for any reason provided you cover the gas fare. His truck usually is surprisingly clean but every now and then someone will find something that is so mouldy they can't figure out what it was. He has fuzzy dice on the rear view mirror and a hawaiian bobblehead on the dash . It was the first thing he got when he started driving. Windshield is always cracked and his car barely works but by a miracle it always gets him from A to B. Also a passenger princess

[scream-into-the-voiddd]

Duck details

Hi i’m bored, 

so i decide to share and sate some details that i found in dt17, these are in no particulate order.

1) the way m’ma Cabrera calls Fenton  ‘Pollito’ - that means little chicken/ duckling (not a Spanish speaker myself but this was translated for me, its just so cute and pure my heart!!) 

bonus-  is when in moonvation when she calls him Gizmo- Pollito  

 2) Gladstone mostly likely gave Donald the stuff he needed to shave and clean up with 

as he has his house blimp with him.

3) the band-aids and tape Donald has, keeping his car dash together

4) that the news paper in scrooge’s first scene actually mentions the snow storm on the reef.  

the board also mentions cutting funding to experimental tech (the bin) and  space exploration (Della) 

5) when launchpad keeps saying he is a bit of a pilot, which is one, a great set up for him, but two, is a great and clever joke about ‘Woo-woo’ being the PILOT episode for the reboot. 

6) that Donald goes out of his way to turn the sign 

7)

that darkwing is holding a saxophone in the closing credits of the ‘show’ within a show.

8) the names and ‘jobs’ the people in these credits have.

i think, page flipper and pencil sharpener is my fav. and Rambo “snickerdoodle” smith.

 these credits imply one of two things 

1) that these are peoples jobs, like literally turning pages for jim starling 

or 

2) he (or someone else) wrote the episodes and was naming characters after office objects and/or the bit parts in this show were insane 

(like when you see ‘rude stranger’ in T.V / movie credits) 

and i don’t know which is better, but they are both equally as believable.

9)  

this map 

I just love it, its so constant with the show and the detail is just great  

10)

LP’s licences 

- that he lives in mcduck manor garage or at least this is where he lists his address as (we see him and dewey in the Garage in sliverbeak)

-his signature is adorable with a little propeller

- the side photo 

[side bar, LP is the same age as my oldest sister and that trips me out a bit, that has nothing to do with anything, I just thought it was neat, and a little confronting not gonna lie]