#Watered Down Hot Chocolate Masterpost | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redflagshipwriter · 3 months

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Nest Swap 6

masterpost

Mrs. Henderson was a lot friendlier with that explanation. He was grateful because that gave him a little space to think about escape plans. “You’re lucky I was here at all,” Mrs. Henderson chattered. “Goodness knows I’ll be out of town soon. My grandson is getting married this weekend, down in that shithole Metropolis.” She shut the window that he’d come in through, which looked a little difficult with her mace wedged in her armpit.

It would probably be really nice if her walker had a ledge for storage on it, Tim thought. He let his eyes glaze over a little bit as he imagined how he would design it. He ended up following the retiree through her house to the wall that he knew connected with the other apartment. The door stuck out because it kind of looked like an outside door: sturdier than a door usually needs to be inside.

Mrs. Henderson optimistically tried the door that internally connected the duplex. It rattled a rejection. “He never used to keep this locked,” she lamented. She gave up with a sigh and put her mace back on the display case a few feet away.

Tim hummed and bounced on his heels. He thought that made sense. If Jason wanted the neighbor man investigated, he probably had stuff to hide. Tim would lock out his neighbor, too.

“That's too bad,” Tim lamented. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I guess I'll go back to my Mom.”

“Oh, nonsense.”

Tim froze. Mrs. Henderson started walking to her kitchen. . Her long robe dragged behind her about an inch on cold hardwood floors. “You can wait for a while with me.”

Oh. Oh, this wasn’t great.

On the one hand, he would get to see the sausage man if Mrs. Henderson let him wait with her. On the other hand, he was going to know that Tim had lied about being a relative, and he would probably say so.

Tim followed Mrs. Henderson a bit woodenly and climbed up onto the stool on autopilot as she leaned over to the sink. Heck. What did he do? He searched his mind for a reference he could rely on. He had nothing.

‘I’m not a very good vigilante,’ Tim thought sadly. He kicked his feet against the bars of the stool and then suddenly stopped when Mrs. Henderson glanced over at him. She flicked the red light on on her kettle. ‘I should have watched more spy movies.’

He made a silent promise to himself to study before he went into action again. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of this, but once he did, he was going to learn from it. A few minutes passed before Mrs. Henderson poured the hot water into mugs and then stirred something.

“Do you like marshmallows?”

Tim blinked. Like, merengue? “I have sophisticated tastes,” he answered on autopilot. Then he wondered why she’d asked.

She laughed. “Me too.” She opened a bag and dumped a pile of sweets into the tea.

His brain shut down a little at the audacious display of dietary recklessness. “Thank you,” he said, and accepted the mug with both hands. He peered down and breathed in the sweet steam.

It was weirdly dark tea. And- really, really sweet-smelling. He sniffed it cautiously and then took a look at his hostess.

“It’s hot,” she warned, and then took a cautious sip of her own.

Tim copied her out of well-bred reflex and instantly coughed. It was thick. Why was it thick? “What kind of tea is this?” His voice squeaked up high.

Mrs. Henderson snorted brown liquid out her nose and then cried out in pain. Tim startled but she kept laughing, hand pressed over her face.

“... It's not tea,” Tim said. He took another suspicious taste. Now that he wasn't expecting something else, he could identify chocolate. “Wow. My mom wouldn't give this to me.” He slurped up a marshmallow. Then he froze because Mrs. Henderson had put a hand over the top of his cup.

“Do you have allergies?” Her dark eyes were serious underneath her eyeglasses.

“Prawns,” Tim supplied. “That's all.”

Mrs. Henderson took her hand away. “Ah. There's no prawns in there, so….” She pursed her lips. “Well, I was a scout when I was your age. I have to peddle sweets to show my pride.”

“You what?” Tim leaned a little closer.

She blinked at him and then took another sip of her chocolate. “You know, scouts? They sell cookies?”

Wow. Tim hid his reaction to that. Were things really that bad in public schools? She'd been working at 9? That was brutal and unjust. Tim worried his lip between his teeth for a few moments before he decided that he really did have to say something.

“That seems unjust,” he said. Tim worried that it was a little rude to say so, but he didn't want people to think he approved of child labor.

She choked on her chocolate again.

A car door slammed on the other side of the building. When his hostess cleared her throat, there were tears in her eyes. She patted at Tim's hand. “You can come back anytime you want, honey,” she said, in a funny voice. “Your Uncle is home! That was his door. I'll walk you around.”

Tim stood up. “No, I'm fine!” He chirped. His heart thudded in his chest. “Thank you so much!” He went to the door a lot faster than she could, pulled it open, and then felt bad. “The drink was really good,” he added, and then he hopped out and shut the door behind him.

“Oh. Hello.” A middle-aged man stood on the sidewalk outside of the duplex. He had a huge duffle bag over his shoulder and he was sort of leaning as if it was heavy. He eyed Tim and Mrs. Henderson’s door with a sort of sharp, calculating expression. “...Visiting my neighbor?”

Ah. His stomach wrenched.

Tim flashed a gala-ready smile up at the sausage guy, deploying maximum cuteness. “Yepp!” He chirped. “I’m her grandson.”

‘Don’t be suspicious,’ he chanted internally. ‘Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious.’

Sausage man frowned a little. “...Not the one who is getting married?” he asked in a funny voice. “I thought she only had the one.” He eyed Tim a little harder. “And, not to be rude, but i would have assumed he’d also be Black.”

Oh. Heck. Jason’s bad guy was definitely getting suspicious of him. He needed to deflect, fast.

“I was joking!” Tim giggled. “You’re funny. No, I’m a scout selling cookies.” He straightened his posture to look like a child with stable employment. “Do you want some?”

“...Cookies?” he clarified. “Not popcorn?”

“Definitely cookies,” said Tim, who had just learnt this fact today. “It’s okay, it’s confusing.”

Sausage man cocked his head to the side, opened his mouth, and then apparently thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. “Yes, actually, I love those cookies.” The man readjusted his duffle bag. “Do you have an order form?” He held out a hand expectantly.

Tim eyed it and resisted the urge to fling himself off the two concrete steps separating him from the lawn. “Not with me,” he bluffed. “What kind do you want?”

“You’re not going to just remember my order,” said the Sausage man, who was beginning to look genuinely irritated. He took a half a step closer. His heavy bag swung. Tim stole a glance down at it. Sausage man followed his gaze and then looked back at Tim. He narrowed his eyes and he smiled.

It did not feel like a nice smile.

“Why don’t you come in?” he said, and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “No one is waiting for you, right?”

“My boyfriend is,” Tim lied immediately. It was kind of true.

Sausage man snorted, because he didn’t know that Jason was going to kick his ass. “That’s probably alright,” he said, amused. He squeezed down on Tim’s shoulder a little. Tim tensed. He needed help, he needed an adult-

“There’s my mom!” Tim chirped. The man let go like he thought Tim was on fire. Tim took advantage of the moment and ducked under the Sausage man’s arm. His heart was pounding so hard. “I’ll see you later, bye!” He sprinted down the walkway and turned left onto the real sidewalk without slowing down.

Haha, sucker. Janet wasn’t even there! And the guy just believed him when he said he saw his Mom? Ridiculous! She was probably in Peru or in a board meeting! He pumped his arms a little harder until he realized that he wasn’t being chased.

The sausage man didn’t chase after him or call out. When Tim stole a look backwards, he saw the door pulling shut.

“Whew,” said Tim, slowing down. “That went okay. Except I didn’t learn anything.”

…He could try again tomorrow.

#red nest swap #tim drake deaged

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ncis-nerd · 5 months

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The Writer, The Artist and The Mediocre: Chapter 1

November 3rd, 2023 Y/N Y/L/N

0500 (Writer)

The best part of life is the silence and peace associated with a quiet life.

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

"Brrrr. Brrr.” An alarm goes off. I groan, rubbing my eyes. Shifting uncomfortably, I notice the hardwood beneath my face. I’m not in bed. I wake up to papers stuck on my face. Fell asleep at my desk, writing again. At least I prepared everything last night. My clothes? Forest green hoodie, I love this hoodie. It’s baggy and the texture is nice. And jeans. Check. My lunch? Packed in my bookbag. Check.

Making my way to the kitchen, I grab my mug. To make my usual morning hot chocolate. By this time mom's usually left for work. So I have the house to myself. While the milk is heating on the stove, I sit on the table. Throwing my feet up, something mom would never let me do but she's not here.

I check my watch, 0530. I have an hour before school starts. I grab my writing journal, the hot chocolate poured into my mug and head for the pond like I do every morning. A shiver runs down my back. It’s kind of chilly this morning. I pass one or two joggers on my way to the pond. I can hear faint squawks from the ducks.

I take a seat on my usual bench. This gives me a clear and close view of the water. It’s nice to have some alone time before school. Before the whole city is awake. I write down the things I could never say. That I haven’t said, since it happened.

People talk to me all the time, never expecting a response because they’ve accepted that I won’t. Nobody heard a thing, a saw thing, so I don’t expect them to understand but everyone is gentle with me. Waiting on me to break and finally say what’s wrong. I won’t cave.

"SPLASH!” I jump. A duck jumping into the pond startles me, bringing me back from my thoughts. I check my watch, 0700. Shit.

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

au masterpost

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echo-goes-mmm · 11 months

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Ambrose and Elliot #20

Masterpost

Warnings: briefly mentioned past torture

Ambrose said snow would be falling soon, and Elliot was terrified. The weather was colder here than his old master’s land. The wood floors wouldn’t be so bad when winter came, but snow was snow and snow was deadly.

Once, his old master had thrown him outside as a punishment. He nearly died from the cold and ice, and had to beg until he passed out to be let back in. The doctor said it was a miracle of the gods he hadn’t lost any fingers or toes.

Elliot had more clothes than he’d ever had in his life now, but would it be enough?

He had two blankets, woolen socks, gloves and mittens, a great big coat, everything. But the fluttering hollow of anxiety inside him wasn’t satisfied.

He got up early, before dawn, to sneak wood into his room. Ambrose didn’t come in often, so he hopefully wouldn’t notice the pile of extra wood in the corner.

What else would he need?

Elliot remembered the tiny closet his old master locked him in. It was the best place to be in that horrible house when snow fell. It warmed him up because it was so little and stuffy. Ambrose didn’t have a closet that was both big enough for him to sit in and small enough to trap heat.

Elliot stole a blanket from the linen closet and lined his wardrobe with it. If it got cold enough, he could hide from winter inside it.

He began to squirrel away food and water under his bed. It was bad of him, but he needed it. He couldn’t take another winter hungry and freezing. Elliot had gotten two glass jugs and filled them with water. He also wrapped up some smoked and salted pork Ambrose had stored away downstairs. He tucked several apples into a small sack, and stole a jar of pickled veggies and a tin of nuts from the storeroom. Master Ambrose had made dozens of jars and had been smoking and salting meat for ages. He wouldn’t notice anything wrong.

___________________

Elliot thought he was being sneaky, but Ambrose knew something was off right away. It just took him a few days to figure it out.

He was going to use those two jugs to make mead, but oh well. Elliot’s little stash was all shelf-stable, so he wasn’t going to discourage him.

The wood wasn’t a problem either. In all honesty, Ambrose probably should do the same thing. It would save him a lot of trips outside.

Ambrose didn’t have to wonder for long why Elliot was so twitchy lately. He kept glancing out the window at the sky, poking around in the fireplaces, making hot drinks and steaming meals.

He didn’t want to think about why Elliot was so scared of the cold. Ambrose was certain it stemmed from something horrible. Elliot’s quirks were almost always some coping mechanism to avoid pain.

Ambrose didn’t know how cold it would get this year. But Elliot would be fine, even without his secret cache of food. He wasn’t going to try and talk him out of his fear, it didn’t work like that. Winter would always have some level of danger, so there was no use reasoning with him. Ambrose could only hope Elliot would relax when he realized he would be alright.

___________________

The snow fell down gently, in large flakes. It was pretty, but the bubbling anxiety in his chest kept him from watching for long. He got through his chores as quickly as possible and retreated to his bedroom.

He closed the curtains. He didn’t want to see the proof of winter looming outside. The room was warm and toasty and he was content to curl up and wait. If he had to spend all season in here, then so be it.

“Sweetheart,” called Master from behind the door, “I made some hot chocolate. I’m going to toast some marshmallows downstairs. You can join me if you want.”

Hm. That did sound pretty nice. He pulled a blanket over his shoulders and peeked out into the hall. It didn’t seem cold.

He made his way downstairs, and there was a roaring fire in the dining room fireplace. Ambrose waved at him from a chair sat in front of the fire. He felt a little more settled, and he eyed the steaming mugs of hot chocolate and the tray of cheese and crackers.

Ambrose was, in fact, toasting marshmallows. He ate one right off the stick, and Elliot found himself smiling as he went to sit next to him.

Ambrose handed him a prepared stick with a marshmallow on it. It was fun to toast them, and Ambrose showed him he could plop one into his mug and it would get all melt-y.

It was pretty hard to remember how scared he was when they were eating snacks and sipping on sweet drinks all afternoon.

Maybe winter wouldn't be so bad this year.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

#me 🤝 Elliot hating the cold #ambrose and elliot #whump #my writing #slavery whump

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kydrogendragon · 9 months

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Dec 16 - Snowed In

(Ao3 Link) (Masterpost Link)

“It doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon,” Hob says, holding his half-drank mocha as he stares out the window. They’d rented a place up in the Highlands, taking some time for themselves after the busy holiday season. Morpheus had mentioned wanting to go somewhere quiet and with good views. He claimed he’d heard such environments were beneficial to “spurring the imagination in one’s mind.” So Hob found a cabin for rent on short notice, packed their bags and Morpheus’s laptop, and they headed out.

They got in late last night and the snow was coming down hard. The forecast had mentioned a small storm was going to be rolling in, but after listening to the news this morning, it looked like that small storm wasn’t so small after all. By the time they had gotten settled down for the night, there was easily 15 cm of snow on the ground and climbing. When they’d woken up in the morning, there was at least 25 cm, maybe more. And the snow still came down.

It looks like their stay might be longer than anticipated.

“What shall we do?” Morpheus asks from his spot on the couch near the fireplace. Hob had gotten a fire started - thankfully, there was a lot of pre-cut wood both inside and out in the log shed. At least they wouldn’t need to worry about not having enough heat. The cabin they had rented was well stocked (Hob thinks he remembers something about extreme sudden weather and ensuring there was enough supplies in cases like this listed on the website) and they didn’t have anything they needed to get back into town for, so if they stayed longer, it didn’t matter all that much.

“Guess we’re stuck here for a bit. At least until the snow stops coming down long enough that we can dig ourselves out. Or until the owners of the place come by with a snowplow to clear out the road.” Hob shrugs. “Guess until then, we just enjoy our time here like we planned.”

Morpheus nods and settles back into the plush cushions. His laptop - Hob had gotten him his very own for Christmas - was set on his lap. The coffee table was pulled closer, almost touching the couch, so Morpheus’s array of mugs were within reach. Hob discovered, soon after Morpheus had moved in, he was a fan of always having a variety of drinks available. His current array consisted of hot chocolate (with mini marshmallows, of course), green tea with honey, a water bottle that Hob had insisted he always have, and a half-drank can of cola. You know, the essentials.

Hob steps back over to his side of the couch and plops down, pulling Morpheus’s feet into his lap. The TV above the fireplace was muted (the sound distracted Morpheus) but was currently playing through the movie Elf that had been in the DVD player when they arrived. Hob had put the subtitles on since he knew the movie well enough to follow along without sound. He worked his fingers against the muscles in Morpheus’s feet and followed along to the film, enjoying the gentle clacking of laptop keys and crackling of wood in the fireplace.

They sat there, each content in their own little worlds and by the time the movie had finally ended, Morpheus, Hob realized as he turned to face his lover, was staring at him from over the top of his laptop. Hob arched a brow in question.

“I was simply… studying.” Morpheus replies, a light blush on the crests of his cheeks.

“Oh? That so?” Hob asks, smirking. “Something for your work?”

Morpheus nods and looks back down at his screen. His lips are pursed. “I… I wished to describe the flames upon this character’s face better. Yours made for an excellent reference.”

Hob had gotten used to this, over the past few days. Whatever story Morpheus was writing at the time, he always seemed to find a reason to “study” Hob. For his writing, of course. Definitely not as a not-so-subtle reason to oogle him. The last time he had caught Morpheus’s staring, when he’d looked over at the screen of his laptop, there hadn’t even been a word document or anything open. It was just the desktop screen. Not that Hob doubted he was telling the truth, occasionally, but he was certain that it made Morpheus more comfortable with looking at him casually. It always made Hob’s heart soar. He just wished Morpheus didn’t feel like he needed an excuse to do so. He’d gladly take Morpheus’s eyes on him anytime, after all.

“Well, if that’s the case, stare away then!” He says, patting Morpheus’s feet before setting them to his side. Hob stands, stretching his limbs out with a groan. “I am gonna grab a bite first, though. Want anything?”

Morpheus considers him, tilting his head in thought. It was adorable when he did that. It reminded him a bit of Matthew’s mannerisms. He’d said that once, in fact. Morpheus had just scowled at him, but it just made him all the cuter. Hob’s pretty sure he would have gotten a death glare if he’d said that thought aloud.

“A sandwich, perhaps. If it is no trouble.” He says, turning back to his computer.

“No trouble at all, love,” Hob says, leaning down and kissing the top of his love’s mess of inky black bed-head. He hears Morpheus huff fondly as he walks towards the kitchen. You know , he thinks as he pulls out the bread and spreads and fillings. A few more days of this bliss wouldn’t be too bad, after all. Perhaps getting snowed in was its own Christmas miracle, in a way.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #december writing list #kydrogen's december drabbles 2023

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the-tripping-and-the-touching · 1 year

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Landslide (series)

Part Two

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You've lost something in a hiking accident... are you prepared for it to come back?

Warnings: flirting, callbacks to injury, secrets, feelings

MASTERPOST

Playlist

Waking up the next morning was anything but easy. With the sun in your eyes your room felt more unfamiliar than ever, the soft colors blending into each other. Every element of the space was recognizable separately, and the dissonance between what you could recall regarding each piece and how they stood now was disconcerting enough to start a spiral in your thoughts. Just as you found yourself sinking into all the hypotheticals about never fully regaining your memories, the clanging of pans snapped you back to reality, an invitation to go check on whatever Josh was doing in the kitchen.

He was whisking a batter together as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and whispered, “Good morning Josh.” The smell of coffee pulled you away from him and invoked a new memory: It was three weeks into your residence of the house, and Josh was making another attempt with the brand new French press that he decided to spend half a paycheck on. He’d become an expert on the entire process, but could never quite get the pressing part right. This time around, you sat on the kitchen counter watching him as he began the final step.

Slowly, he pushed down, but even to you it seemed like it was taking a bit too much effort. Just as you prepared to ask if it was supposed to be that difficult, the entire contraption split in half, spraying coffee grounds and hot water onto your thigh and pajama shorts. Before you could even make a move, Josh was swiping the whole mess into the sink and pressing a tea towel to your leg. You sat with your mouth parted in shock as he pressed his hands firmly onto you, his fingers brushing the bottom of your shorts. Even now you could feel the warmth of the blush that had spread across your cheeks as you returned back to the present.

You found that Josh had gained a similar rosiness in his cheeks due to the hug you had given him as you poured a cup of coffee (from the instant machine that you had bought promptly after throwing your shorts in the wash those two years ago). The dark circles he was sporting yesterday seemed to be fighting to make themselves a permanent fixture among his other features, pairing themselves with the newfound heaviness of his deep eyes. “What’s in this?” you prompted after taking a sip and noticing a richer taste than usual. He looked bashful as the answer found its way from his mind, his fingers wrapping around the lip of the counter once he turned to face you. The beginning of a long scar towards the front of his right bicep caught your eye before his voice brought your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Well I did some reading last night, and I found out that dark chocolate and coffee are good for your memory,” he explained as he held up a pan that was now full, “as well as blueberries. Hence the pancakes.” A shy smile found its way across his lips. It was one of your favorites because of how soft it always made him look.

“That’s really sweet Josh.” He’d always taken care of you, but the consistency never stopped you from falling for him a little more each time he did. Yet as soon as you saw how red his face was getting you knew how fun it would be to push the boundaries of the morning’s pleasantness. “So we have blueberries for breakfast… what are we going to do about love in the afternoon?” You looked at him through your lashes as you sipped your coffee.

He had to clear his throat before answering due to the breath that caught in it. You watched as he mulled over the options for answers, his cheeks pink in the morning sun that drifted through your curtained windows and a smirk forming once he decided on one. “Unfortunately not applicable, since we aren’t under the August moon. But if you want me that bad you could just ask instead of making references to The Mamas & The Papas.” The confidence in the second half of his answer was surprising. No retort formed in your mind, so you just scoffed at him before grabbing a plate and flipping some pancakes onto it, turning from him in order to hide the way you were blushing.

The two of you sat at your kitchen table to begin eating when the front door was hit with an excited barrage of knocks. You practically jumped from your seat, rushing to the door to greet your parents. They wrapped you up so tight there wasn’t an inch of room for air in your lungs, but you couldn’t complain. Even though you still couldn’t recall exact memories of them during your time in college, the feeling of missing your parents was one that not even major head trauma could erase, and getting to see them again was a kind of medicine no pharmacist could ever give you.

Josh wasn’t spared either, your mom pulling him in as soon as she heard him push his chair back from the table. It seemed like no one wanted to be the first to exit the strangely shaped group hug, so you decided to take the responsibility, detaching yourself from your parents and ducking under Josh’s arm.

You settled around the table, the older couple declining offers of pancakes and coffee while you and Josh ate. They regaled you with tales of the vacations you’d taken to see them during your time in college, each of which actually brought back pieces of time to your mind. Despite the lively conversation, Josh seemed preoccupied, messing with his fingers and chewing on his cheeks until he took your plate from you and started on the dishes.

“I know school starts up in just a little over a month, but we’d love to have you back home until then,” your mom offered out of the blue, making Josh pause his current task. “You have a lovely little home here, but if you want to just take the time off of work and make recovering with us your full time job, your old room is always open.” You faltered for a moment before beginning to decline, an action that caused Josh to suddenly wipe his hands dry and go straight to the back half of the house. Assuming he was just going to his room to give you some privacy with your family, you kept on with the conversation. After explaining that you’d really prefer to stay in the place you’ve made home, the discussion shifted around from topic to topic, eventually landing on you borrowing your mom’s sweater and accidentally bringing it up to Oregon with you.

To your surprise, you were greeted with more than clothing when you went to your room to retrieve it for her. Josh was crouched in front of your dresser, going through your sock drawer with a strange focus. “Can I help you find something?” your shoulder hit the door frame as you leaned into it, arms crossed and brow knotted.

“Oh, uh, no I was just looking for a uh pair of my socks I thought you might’ve taken last laundry day but I guess they’re not here! Sorry for going through your, uh, your stuff but I didn’t want to interrupt you so I figured I would just uh,” he punctuated the sentence, if you could call the long string of words that, with a shrug. “Yeah. Sorry.”

He quickly left the room before you could confront him further, brushing against your shoulder with his before crossing the hall and shutting his door fully behind him. Unfortunately for him, you had enough of your memory back to know that that single action of isolation was unusual enough to warrant concern. You grabbed the sweater and returned to the kitchen table after deciding to just spend time with your parents before you inevitably made them go home without you.

They were saying their goodbyes when Josh finally reopened his door and came back out to the kitchen. “Just in time!” Your mom pulled him in for another hug before he could protest, followed by a pat on the shoulder from your dad. She then turned to you with a new look of genuine concern, “You promise you’re really recovering? You’re not just saying that to get us out of here?”

“I promise. Things are coming back to me, slowly but surely, y’know?” She gave you a sharp frown as her eyes swept across the stitches laid behind your ear, though they were barely visible from her vantage point.

“Well alright. Your dad and I will gather whatever we can find from around the house that might make you remember something. I think we can even swing express shipping just for you.” She let out a laugh, the sound of which was something you’d dearly missed. The second your drawn out goodbyes were over, Josh was back in his room with his door shut.

By the time it got dark he still hadn’t made an appearance, even after you’d shouted to him that dinner was ready an hour previous. You formulated a plan: you would barge in and stop him from whatever he was doing and make him admit what he was really doing rifling through your drawers. Then you’d make him come to the kitchen and eat something before telling him you’d move out if he kept ignoring you.

However, this spectacular plan was dashed when you opened his bedroom door. The scene before you wasn’t one that felt appropriate for the confrontation you had planned. Josh was laying square in the center of his bed, staring up blankly at his ceiling in complete reticence. When he made no move to acknowledge you, you entered his room and let the door fall shut as you made your way to him.

You’d always loved how cozy the space was, even with the way his mood contrasted it now. He never used the overhead light he was provided with, rather opting for string lights in different shapes and differing shades of orange and yellow around the walls. He’d chosen to lay plush pillows on his floor across from the worn couch along his wall rather than regular chairs, telling you they were more comfortable, really, he promised! Posters and art lined his walls, a small trophy case hung above the massive stereo system his siblings pitched in to buy him for a birthday years ago. The case housed two awards for his film work, but more prominently showcased his collection of little cologne bottles that he used for special occasions. The desk next to his bed had a few dishes on it, indicating that he had maybe actually eaten something since breakfast.

The focal point of this scene lay still in his silence, surrounded by the warm light. It wasn’t until you picked up his arm to move it and sat next to him with your legs crossed that he moved. He pulled himself up to match your pose, but refused to bring his gaze to your face, settling on the pattern of his comforter instead.

“You need to tell me what’s going on with you.” It wasn’t exactly fair, but you knew that using your concerned tone would make him say at least something to you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and then went back down to rest on his hands while he thought of what to tell you.

“I’m just so fucking sorry that you have to go through this,” he finally said, his face twisted into a look of sadness that seemed so out of place you had no choice but to try and fix it. The way his lips seemed to be stuck in a downturned position recently felt so deeply wrong.

“You don’t have to apologize to me. Yeah, it’s a shitty deal but it’s not your fault that this happened to me. To us. There was no way we could’ve predicted this, if we were able to we never would’ve let it happen.” You went to reach for his hand but he pulled it away, crossing his arms over his chest and holding himself as his eyes watered, gleaming in the dim light.

“Except it is my fault. This entire fucking thing is my fault, and you’re the one that’s actually suffering the consequences. Because I did something stupid.” His head tilted up as he swallowed and let his fingers flex into the sides of his ribcage.

“What did you do?” Any hope of confrontation had now left you. This wasn’t about catching him in anything anymore, but rather about finding out why he felt so guilty.

“I’m the one that suggested Alsea. If we hadn’t gone there and I hadn’t said that stupid… joke you wouldn’t have gotten mad at me and we would never have been in that spot and you wouldn’t be having to retrieve memories that never should have left you in the first place and we would-” You pulled him into your arms before he could keep going. Just from the tone and speed with which he was talking you could tell that he wouldn’t be elaborating on the ‘joke’ he’d mentioned, or why he was going through your things. It seemed better to just leave it for another time when he wasn’t so close to falling apart.

“It’s not your fault Josh.” Your chin was tucked over his shoulder before he pulled back from you. The pain in his eyes was unbearable to the point that you had no clue how to even continue with what you were saying.

“Even if it isn’t, I can’t shake this feeling that I’ve just ruined us. Like there’s no way we can go back to how we were before that stupid landslide.” Finding words when he got like this was harder than anything else. It was rare, you’d only seen it a handful of times throughout the entirety of your friendship. The way he struggled to separate his sentences and repeated words was unnatural for him, a boy usually so thoughtful with his large vocabulary.

“Josh,” you laid a hand on his shoulder, just to keep contact with him. “I can’t imagine a single thing you would do that could ruin us. You’ll always be my best friend. No landslide could change that.” Strangely, your words of assurance gave him an uneasy look that you couldn’t quite decipher. Before he could protest, you pulled him in again, feeling the warmth of his cheek as it pressed against your own.

He finally unraveled his arms and held you as he nuzzled into your hair. You listened as his breathing evened out and began to mirror yours, leaning your heads together. The clock on his wall next to your head ticked quietly as you settled into each other for a few minutes.

Silence with Josh was always comfortable and, despite the day’s turmoil, it remained that way now. He’d always made you so relaxed, which was part of the reason his recent behavior had been so disturbing to you. It was unnerving and put you on a slight edge when you were around him. But you tried not to think about that as his chest pressed into yours and his hair tickled against your ear as the tiny movements of breath swayed the two of you.

It wasn’t until the air began to feel heavy that you separated, but even then it was hard to think about leaving the warm atmosphere that had been created in favor of your empty bed. You began to ask if he would mind you staying when he also started to say something.

“Oh, sorry you go ahead,” he offered.

“No, no, you go,” you quickly returned. You had a feeling that you knew exactly what he was going to ask, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to hear it come straight from his mouth.

“Would you want to stay in here?” He looked sheepish again, as if you hadn’t been sharing beds with him for years. It was especially a given on vacations, even when you went with your families. You and Josh were always given your own room, or at the very least your own bed. Being inseparable like the two of you were guaranteed that kind of scenario. It was, in part at least, due to the assumptions by your parents that the two of you would never actually get together, despite their constant joking regarding that matter.

“I would love to,” you responded with a warm smile, watching him find his way back to relaxation. You moved to sit on his right pillow while he pulled his comforter back, then crawled beneath it in unison with him. A moment’s silence passed as the both of you settled on your sides to face each other. “So, tell me about this film studio I found for us.”

He suddenly beamed as he began to describe every little detail to you. He told you first about how they were currently working on a short film about a girl who receives an inheritance from a father she never knew and goes on a journey to learn more about a life she didn’t have the chance to live. It seemed compelling enough, but you were more interested in watching how his facial expressions gave away his thoughts about what he was describing. He then moved on to describing the studio space to you, moving quickly through his favorite and least favorite equipment and how he could never be patient enough when waiting for set design to switch out pieces during a shoot.

The way he took extra care in mapping out the art studio that you supposedly worked in made you feel fuzzy as sleep began to threaten the conversation. You noticed that he began to blink slower as he moved to talking about the break room and parking lot, and before too long you were watching him fall asleep as you faded in and out of consciousness next to him.

#josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka x reader #gvf fic #josh kiszka #landslide fic

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edupunkn00b · 1 year

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Overruled, Ch. 5: Philosophy of Love Meets The Science of Attraction

Prev - The Philosophy of Love Meets the Science of Attraction - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

You got peanut butter Intrulogical in my chocolate Loceit. You got chocolate Dukeceit in my peanut butter Loceit. Oh, no wait, we've just discovered peanut butter cups Intruloceit. For Day 5 of @loceitweek, Philosophy/Science. Yes, this is still a Loceit story. :)

WC: 3237 - Rated T - cw: suggestive, alcohol, swearing, unhealthy coping mechanisms ---

“You have to check your calendar?” Janus blurted out, staring incredulously at him. “No, he’s free,” he said to Remus. “What time can he pick you up?”

“Janus, really, I—”

Janus cut him off with a look.

“You can pick me up at eight.” Remus’ voice wasn’t as confident as it had been a moment ago, and his eyes danced nervously between them even as he smiled. “My brother’ll be busy with some tech break down shit tomorrow night…” Warm fingers played at the edges of his hair, ostensibly clearing his vision. “We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Logan tugged at the label on his water bottle and tried to catch Janus’ eye. He understood his reluctance, didn’t he? “I… I merely need to be certain I have not committed to anything else before I said yes,” he finally said to Remus.

“You haven’t,” Janus insisted and stood, offering a hand first to Remus and then to Logan. The finality of his answer echoed against the fitness room walls and suddenly Logan was a lot less warm.

Janus gripped his hand for a moment longer than necessary and Logan again tried to catch his gaze. Despite his smile, he steadfastly avoided his eyes. Finally, Logan nodded and turned to Remus, smiling. Bright green eyes stared back at his, their earlier nervousness burned away. “I’ll pick you up at eight, Remus,” he said. “Wear something casual.” Janus left with a little wave and Logan followed, calling back over his shoulder. “And warm.”

At eight o’clock sharp, Logan knocked at the door number Remus had text him, a picnic basket and plaid blanket tucked under one arm.

“Hmm, don’t you look delectable,” Remus purred, looking him up and down. “Punctual, too.” He closer and trailed two fingers over the constellation pattern on his tie. “You smell tasty, too.”

“That is more than likely the fruit tray and sparkling cider,” he said, giving him a crooked grin.

“Sparkling cider? As in Martinelli’s or,” he made exaggerated air quotes.“‘Sparkling cider?’”

“It’s a berry apple blend, and yes,” Logan nodded. “It is nonalcoholic. You are under twenty-one, are you not?”

Remus waggled his eyebrows, hand resting on his chest. “Are you this exacting in bed?”

“That remains to be seen,” Logan said smoothly and offered his arm free arm. Remus was dressed in low-slung ripped jeans and newly polished combat boots, laces undone but not dragging on the floor. His sleeveless teelooked cropped, the edges curled and revealing his navel and a faint trail of auburn hair. “Do you have a jacket?” he asked, not at all convinced Remus had been listening when Logan had said to dress warmly .

“Got it,” he grinned, grabbing a heavy leather jacket from behind the door and draping it over one shoulder. He took Logan’s arm and followed him out to the hall and toward the elevators, letting his dorm door slam behind him. “So, where to, hot Daddy?”

“I am not a father,” he said, eyebrow raised. “‘Logan’ will suffice for tonight.”

“Yes, Sir,” Remus laughed, drawing closer as they stepped into the elevator.

Once outside, Logan set a brisk pace across the quad. “We are going there,” he pointed to the clock tower on top of the library.

“Oooo,” Remus cooed, tightening his grip on Logan’s arm with a little shiver. “Are we off for a ‘study’ session?” Head tilted to rest on his shoulder, they walked in tandem and he shivered again. “Care to study me?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Logan murmured. Dropping his arm, he unbuttoned his pea coat and threaded Remus’ hand between the back of it and his waist, his own arm draped around the sophomore’s. “You are cold. If you insist on not wearing your jacket, at least stay close.”

“Oh,” Remus began, voice sultry as he shimmied closer. With nothing but his linen shirt between them, Remus’ hand and arm felt cold. “Hmm…” Whatever he’d been about to say melted into a pleased hum. “You’re warm,” he finally said. “Thanks, Professor.”

Arm curled around his waist, Logan nodded as he felt the cold from Remus’ skin disipate with his body heat “You’re more than welcome, Remus.”

They approached the door and Remus frowned at the sign announcing the library closed at 7:30 on Sundays. “Are we breaking in?”

“Not quite,” Logan murmured, producing his school ID and tapping it against the reader. The door buzzed and popped right open. “The law library has extended hours. This will grant us… certain access.”

“Holy fuck, Logan!” he laughed, face blooming in a giddy grin. He bowed dramatically as Logan held the door for him and practically skipped inside the darkened library.

The warmth filling Logan’s chest had nothing to do with his wool pea coat or the blast from the library’s HVAC system. He gestured to a winding staircase to the left. “Ready for a bit of a climb?”

The library was glorious. It was near silent, none of that seemingly ever-present hum and buzz of machines and people doing their best to be quiet, no clacking keyboards or the random dropped book. Even the self-checkout machines near the door were powered down, only the red lasers flickering against empty tabletops.

Most of the lights were turned off, with only a strip of exit lights illuminating the aisles between the sections and stars and streetlights streaming in through the skylights over the reading room’s atrium. A series of lights lined the spiral stairs Logan led them up, and their legs cast long shadows across the main floor below.

Logan had let go of his hand as they walked, slowing his pace and waiting patiently while Remus peered over the railing at the darkened stacks below. “How do you not just come here all the time?” he whispered, his voice deafening in the silent space.

“Who says I don’t?” he smirked back, not in a whisper, but low and rumbly and delicious. Remus could listen to him talk all night. “It’s just a bit further, when you’re ready,” he murmured, gesturing to the top of the stairs and a bright green EXIT ONLY sign.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Remus followed him through the door, smiling at the bit of duct tape covering the latch. “Maybe you do come here often,” he said with a little shoulder dance.

“I like to be prepared,” he answered and let the door close slowly behind them. He gave it a tug to demonstrate to Remus they were not locked outside, then pointed to an open area just to the right of the clock tower. “Let’s spread the blanket there.”

He set down the basket and flipped open the blanket, one of those heavy flannel ones with the plastic cores to protect against the wet ground. Fuck, he really did like to be prepared. Remus eyed the picnic basket and wondered what else he’d prepared for.

“Please have a seat,” he murmured and they sat, looking out over the campus.

“Oh,” Remus breathed. They could see the entire campus from here, the bright yellow ginkgo trees lining the paths, the ornate street lamps dotting the edges and casting thin, warm light against the darkened buildings. To the West was the Sound, big barges looking magical in the dark, just floating lights reflecting off the water. To the South was Mount Rainier, her snowy top illuminated by the full moon.

His fingers itched, wishing he had brought his sketch pad and charcoals. He glanced at Logan, busily organizing two glasses and a platter of strawberries, grapes, and pineapple in front of them. He pulled out the promised bottle—chilled, no less—of Martinelli’s and—

“I noticed how you’d been drawing at the fitness center,” Logan said, passing him a blank sketchbook and a small box of charcoals. The exact fucking brand he’d used before their sexy little law school smack down. “I’ve always enjoyed the view here and I thought perhaps…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Remus grinned, reaching for the sketchbook and pastels. They were brand new, still wrapped in the plastic film. “Thank… thank you, Logan. D—do you really not mind if I…” He gestured to the sketchbook and the water in front of them. He knew this was a date, right?

Smiling, Logan moved closer to him and draped his jacket over his shoulders, then handed him a glass. “I was rather hoping you would.”

~~~

As the evening wore on, the pair finished their drinks and most of the platter. Remus sketched quickly, filling page after page. He and Ro had made it out to Seattle just before the start of freshman year and he’d never… never seen the sky quite like this. Most nights were cloudy and even he hadn’t yet dared to climb up to the clock tower just for a look around.

He turned to a fresh page again and shifted, keeping the very southern tip of the Sound in his field of vision along with the mountains. Logan moved behind him and, as he drew, Remus leaned back, resting against his chest. A gust of wind whipped at his hair and Remus blew up sharply, hands busy with the pastels.

Humming quietly, more a rumble against his back than anything Remus could hear, Logan tucked his hair back behind his ear. The warmth from his hand sent a little shiver down his back and Remus tore his eyes away from Mt. Rainier and grinned up at him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“My pleasure.” Logan smiled and Remus shivered again. Moonlight sparkled in his eyes and, before he really thought about it, Remus turned to a fresh page and started sketching him.

“The mountain is back there,” he murmured, tilting his chin toward Rainier. Logan sat with one knee bent and Remus settled between his legs, leaning against him as he sketched a close-up of his face.

Remus grinned. “The view from here is even better.” He started with broad strokes, then tentatively reached for Logan’s jaw. “May I?” he asked, surprising even himself.

“Of course.”

He adjusted the angle of Logan’s chin and nodded rapidly. “Hold just there for a moment,” he muttered before returning to his work.

When he finished the sketch, he closed the book. “No peeking,” he laughed. “I’ll show you after I’ve colored it.”

Logan laughed back, a low chuckle that sent vibrations up and down Remus body. He was practically seated in his lap, with his own legs draped over one of Logan’s. Leaning in, he traced the edge of Logan’s jaw. It was just as smooth and firm under his fingertips as he’d imagined it. “I’ve got lots of things you can peek at in the meantime.”

“Is that so?” he asked, wrapping his arms around him and drawing closer. One more inch and their lips would touch.

“Please kiss me,” Remus blurted out.

“My pleasure,” he murmured and finally—fucking finally—pulled him into a kiss.

Logan’s kiss started gently, tasting his lips as one hand moved up to cradle the back of his head. Fingers gently curling through his hair, he slowly deepened their kiss.

Remus hummed into his mouth, lips parted, and pushed against him, following him as he lay back onto the blanket. When he broke away for breath, Remus mouthed along his jaw and down his neck before sitting up, straddling his hips.

“How do you like it?” he asked, dragging his hands down Logan’s chest and playing at the top of his belt buckle.

“Remus,” Logan shook his head, just a little, then pulled Remus’ hands from his belt and brought them up to his lips. He kissed his knuckles and shook his head again. “Remus, I’m not going to fuck you on a rooftop.”

“Oh!” he said, climbing off. Logan sat up immediately. His face was tricky to read in the dark. But they way Remus had been sitting had made it easy to feel just how interested Logan was. “Why didn’t you just say so? There are…” He waggled his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Other things I can do or we could go back to your place…”

Logan knelt in front of him and cradled his face with both hands. Steel blue eyes stared right into him, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “It is quite late,” he said after a long moment. “Perhaps it’s time I walked you home.”

“I had a wonderful time with you tonight,” Logan murmured at his door. He brushed back the curls from his eyes and then his hand lingered, carding gently through his hair.

Remus turned and rubbed his cheek against Logan’s palm, then nipped lightly at the fleshy part of his thumb. “No need for our wonderful night to already end.” He looked over his shoulder at the empty dorm room. “My brother won’t be home tonight. He’s crashing with the rest of the tech crew. Stepping forward, he pressed close, close enough to know what Logan’s body wanted. He looped one arm around Logan’s back, then took a small step backwards. “We have the room all to ourselves.”

His cheeks and lips were flushed a deep pink and, even under the bright hallway lights, Logan’s pupils were big and black, a copy of the night sky they’d just seen. He swallowed hard, then pulled Remus’ hand away from his back and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. “I’d like to take you out again sometime,” he said and Remus’ stomach sank to the floor.

He opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. If he didn’t want him, then…

“May I call you tomorrow and we can make plans?” Logan continued in that same low, smooth voice.

“Yeah,” Remus finally managed, heart twisting in his chest. Everything had been going so well. What did he do wrong to get this whole ‘I’ll call you’ bullshit? “Yeah, of course,” he grinned, giving his shoulders a little shimmy. Ro wasn’t the only actor between them.

“Sleep well, Remus,” Logan said, cupping his cheek as he kissed him again, soft and sweet.

It felt like a send-off.

“Yeah, you, too, Logan,” he said and watched him head for the stairs, escaping his view as quickly as he could.

Remus closed the door behind him and sank down onto the beanbag chairs to figure out what the fuck had gone wrong.

An hour later, Remus was no closer to figuring out how he’d fucked everything up and he’d taken to pacing the tiny room in an effort to work it out. Why didn’t he want him? He’d made it really obvious he was ready, willing, and able, and Logan was clearly into it. Had he just revved him up to go be with someone he really wanted?

The scars on his arm itched like a motherfucker and Remus knew if he spent another minute in here alone, he was not going to be able to keep his promise to Ro. He needed some air. While he'd paced, he’d thrown his jacket on the floor. He tooped to pick it up on his way to the door, but then straightened, hand empty.

Fuck it. It’s not that cold out.

He’d thrown out all his clove cigarettes after that fucking party, part of another promise to Ro to try harder. But he didn’t toss his gum, so he shoved his last two pieces in his mouth and chomped hard, then opened the door and fled from his thoughts.

Janus sat in his armchair, half-empty glass of scotch on the table next to him. The room was dark, the diffuse light spilling in from the streetlamp across the road doing little to illuminate the space. The sun had still been shining when Janus had come home from the grocery store and he’d taken out the bottle Glenlivet and shoved the rest of the bag into the fridge to deal with later. He sat down in the living room and poured his first glass.

That was a half a bottle ago.

‘I merely need to be certain I have not committed to anything else before I said yes…’

Logan’s eyes had pleaded with him, explaining with a look what he couldn’t—wouldn’t—with words in front of Remus. Janus knew what he’d been trying to say.

‘You have not.’

What else could he say? What else should he have said? He’d literally told Logan to find someone else to pursue. He’d told him he wasn’t interested in a relationship, he’d told him he didn’t love people. He’d told him he didn’t want to love anyone, that he didn’t want more of that soft warm touch, of those kind eyes looking back at him. That he didn’t want to know more, to learn if his kisses tasted as good as he smelled and to discover what it meant for his heart to leap out of its chest each time Logan smiled.

He’d lied.

Janus tipped back his glass and discovered it was, in fact, completely empty. Fumbling with the bottle cap, he set down the glass and tried again. Just before he got it, the bottle leapt from his hands and hit the hardwood floor, shattering and soaking the area rug with the last of his scotch. Fuck.

It took him far too long to clean it all up and by the time he was done, Janus was more than ready for another glass. He looked up at the microwave clock. If he left now, he could make it to Safeway before they closed.

The only open grocery story was only a block from campus, but the fresh air made the hike shorter than it usually felt. Before long, he was sauntering inside, walking carefully to ensure they wouldn’t turn him away. The cashier hadn’t even looked up to ring him out.

Moments later he strode through the doors, bottle in hand—and right into Remus.

“Oh, fuck, Janus, sorry,” he muttered, grabbing him with those strong, callused hands before he could stumble. Remus had been drawing, charcoal dust under his fingernails and a bit by his jaw.

“No ‘pologies needed,” Janus said slowly, annoyed at the slight slurring in his words. Remus didn’t release him and Janus stared back. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and jeans, no jacket. Before Janus could form the words to ask if he was cold, he shivered.

“What are you doing out?” He clutched his bottle to his chest, head tilted to the side. “I thought you’d still be with Logan by now.”

Drunk, standing in the middle of a poorly lit street, Janus couldn’t miss the hurt in Remus’ eyes. He shrugged but didn’t explain.

Janus couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could Logan have possibly rejected him? He reached out and tapped the edge of Remus’ jaw. “You know what?”

“What?” he huffed out a little laugh, leaning in to his touch like a lost puppy.

“You look like you could use a drink. And I know I sure as hell could use one,” Janus nodded, holding up the bagged bottle. “I live twenty blocks that way,” he said, pointing with one end and offering his arm. “Would you like to join me tonight?”

Remus stared down at the bottle, then lifted his eyes and met Janus’. A shaky smile pulled up one corner of his mouth and hooked his hand into the crook of Janus’ elbow. “Lead the way.”

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ladyfogg · 2 years

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A Little Push - Part 2

A Little Push – Part 2

Fic Summary: Tired of watching you and Eddie dance around each other, Steve and Robin are determined to get you two together, even if it means slipping you some very special chocolates. (Part 1) (Part 3) Eddie Munson Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Filthy Smut, Friends to Lovers, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Overstimulation, Breeding Kink, Cockwarming

Fic Song: N.I.B by Black Sabbath

A/N: Had such fun with part one that I decided pretty early on that there would be a follow-up. Hope you like it!

It’s been hours.

Eddie fucks himself in and out of you, his hands clutching your sweaty hips. He’s lost track of the number of times he’s cum. Even with the window open, the room is hot and smells of sex. And chocolate. The half-eaten box lies forgotten on his desk. You’re bent over in front of him, your knees trembling with the upper half of your body laying flat on his bed.

Your thighs are soaked with your slick and his cum.

Eddie moves the sweaty hair out of his face with a flick of his head. He can’t help staring at his dick, watching it disappear into your sore cunt over and over again.

“Eddie,” you moan, twisting the bedsheets. “Too much…I can’t cum again.”

“Yes you can, sweetheart. Just one more. Give me just one.” He reaches between your legs, circling your clit with the tip of his finger, making your body convulse underneath him. You yell and he leans forward, draping himself over your back. “You can do it. Just one time. I know you can.” He tongues your ear and it’s just enough to push you over the edge.

You cum, moaning his name. Your sore pussy clenches around him. It’s all he needs to finish, filling you one more time. Fuck, he’ll never get over that feeling. He always knew if you two ever got together the sex would be fantastic but he had no idea. And it's not just because of the chocolates. No, it’s because it’s you.

For the first time since eating that first truffle, his dick softens and he draws back to watch himself slip out of your gaping, filthy hole. His release is dripping down your thighs, adding to the mess he’s left behind many times by now. Your body gives out and your legs go down leaving you spread and fucked out in the middle of his bed.

Eddie’s body is shaking too, well past his usual limitations. He kisses his way up your back to your neck, hand stroking your side.

You grunt and swing your hand back, connecting with his head. “No more.”

Breathless and grinning, Eddie collapses on his stomach next to you. “I have never cum that many times before.”

“You’ve killed me, Munson. I’m officially dead.”

“Don’t blame me, blame the chocolates.”

“Considering you went back to have fucking two more, I’m absolutely going to blame you.”

Yeah. Yeah, he did do that when he felt them starting to wear off. He couldn’t help himself. You were still going and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste. He’s spent so many hours pining and fantasizing, there was no way he was going to stop before he was good and ready to.

However, as great as the sex has been, he knows there’s an important discussion that needs to be had. “Should we, you know, talk about what this means?” he asks once he’s managed to catch his breath.

“Probably.” You try to push yourself to sit but give up and flop back down. “Ugh, I can’t move.”

“So don’t.”

“I’m covered in cum, I’d like to at least clean some of it off.”

“I got it. Stay here.”

Eddie forces himself to get up, his legs wobbly as he stumbles out of his room. In the bathroom, he stares at his reflection, grinning at the number of red love bites you left behind in your eagerness. He’s incredibly proud of himself. Yeah, he fucked you. A lot. The chocolates may have given you both stamina but he was the one who made you cum. Many times.

Quickly, he grabs a warm washcloth and makes a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Downing half of it, he heads back to his room. You haven’t moved an inch.

He stands there, admiring the view for a second, before tossing you the rest of the water and kneeling on the bed. Gently, he cleans the absolute mess between your legs, biting his lip when he hears you moan with relief. Fuck even after all that, it takes a small moan to get to him. If he wasn’t thoroughly exhausted, he’d climb on top of you again.

Once he’s done, he tosses the washcloth aside. You force yourself up just enough so you can drink some water, before flopping back down. When you manage to roll over, Eddie can’t help laying his body over yours so he can hold you while kissing you.

You’ve kissed a ton, yet Eddie can’t help thinking of this as your first official kiss. It’s at least the first one that isn’t driven by sexy candy. You wrap your arms around him and kiss him back with a small content sigh. He loves the way you kiss like you’re savoring it, trying to make it last for as long as possible.

“What does this mean?” you ask when he draws back.

Fuck that’s a loaded question.

“It means whatever we want it to mean,” Eddie says. “It wasn’t the chocolate talking earlier. I meant what I said. I love you. I want to be with you.”

You’re quiet, your fingers tracing his jaw. His heart starts to sink the longer you remain silent. You told him you loved him. So why are you hesitating now? Did you not mean it? Was it the chocolate talking for you? His heart can’t take it if it was.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

“Nothing, I just…” You sigh. “I’m worried about this changing us. Changing what we have.”

“Of course, it’s going to change,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. It’s only going to bring us closer together. We’re still going to have movie night, we’re still going to argue about what to watch and what snacks to get. The only main difference is, that we’re going to be making out during the movie.”

You laugh. “You seem pretty confident about that.”

“We just had the longest marathon sex session ever. I’m pretty confident we’re going to want to make out whenever we get the chance.”

He's teasing, trying to lighten the mood yet he means what he says. This whole situation has made him feel closer to you than he’s ever felt before.

You pull him down into a kiss which he happily reciprocates, relieved. He understands why you’re worried. You two have been friends for so long that making the transition to something more is daunting. Hell, it’s the main reason he's had such a difficult time telling you how he feels.

Eddie has never been shy about saying what he wants, except when it came to you. Now that it’s all out in the open, he’s ready to jump in.

“Ugh, so sore and tired,” you groan when he rolls over next to you.

“You’re sleeping over, right?”

“Babe, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.”

Fuck, he likes the sound of you calling him babe. He turns the light off and settles in for some much-needed sleep. When he lays down, you cuddle up to him, draping yourself on his chest. His heart fucking explodes and he wraps his arms around you.

Despite how exhausted his body is, his mind won’t let him sleep just yet. How can it when there’s so much he wants to talk to you about? So much he wants to tell you. Like he’s serious about this. About being with you. It isn’t lust that motivates him.

After all while, he gently rubs your arm. “Are you awake?” he whispers.

“Hmmm?” is your half-asleep response.

“I want you to know something.”

“W’sat?”

“I’m gonna marry you.”

“S’nice…”

A second later, you’re snoring softly. He smiles to himself, knowing you won’t remember a single thing he just said. Oh well, he’ll just have to tell you again in the morning.

With one arm tucked under his head and his other holding you close, Eddie closes his eyes and lets the exhaustion take over.

It’s around noon by the time he wakes up. He’s groggy and out of it, the gray clouds outside making him want to go right back to sleep. His sleep-addled brain is functioning enough for him to remember everything that went down last night. Grinning, he rolls over and reaches for you only to find cold sheets.

Eddie immediately sits up.

His room is a disaster, more so than usual as half the stuff in the dresser is now all over the floor. At first, he thinks that you left, that you slipped away for some reason while he slept. When he spots your jeans among the mess, he relaxes.

From the kitchen, he smells food and his stomach rumbles. Eddie pulls on a pair of boxers and wanders out of his room, looking for you.

He finds you in the kitchen wearing your panties and one of his t-shirts. It’s an old shirt, one that’s stretched out and hangs low, revealing your shoulder. You’re standing at the stove, humming to yourself as you slide a freshly made pancake on a steaming stack.

Unable to stop himself, he comes up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck.

“Good morning,” he says, hands tugging up the shirt so they can slide under.

“You ruined the surprise, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

This. This domestic little display is too much. It’s something he knows he wants to wake up to for the rest of his life. He waits until you turn off the stove and put the plate down before he spins you in his arms. Trapping you between his body and the counter, he gives you a smoldering look.

“Come back to bed.”

“Oh no, did you already eat another chocolate? Damn it, Eddie, I was going to suggest we eat and shower before finishing the box.”

Eddie presses his body to yours, letting you feel the outline of his hardening dick. “This is all me, sweetheart,” he says, his lips brushing yours. “Just me, wanting you, right now.”

Without waiting for your response, he grabs the backs of your thighs and hoists you into the counter. You gasp in surprise and he takes the opportunity to kiss you, pushing his tongue past your open lips. You moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck it turns him on just knowing you want him like he wants you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you manage to say between kisses. “Just…slow down for a second.”

Eddie draws back, still making sure his body is pressed against yours. He can feel the heat from your panties even through the thin layers of fabric and it’s driving him crazy.

He wants to be inside you. He needs it.

“We should talk.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. That’s never a good combination of words. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, god no,” you say, taking his face in your hands. “I just…we didn’t use any protection last night.”

Shit. You’re right. The thought never fucking crossed his mind even though he has condoms right within reach. Eddie is normally good about being careful. Even being drunk or high hasn’t stopped him from taking precautions in the past.

Yet, this time was different. There’s something about you that unlocks a side of himself he didn’t know existed. It happened last night when he was going to cum the first time around. He had the urge to bury himself all the way, making sure you took every fucking drop. Even now, thinking about hitting it raw is…

Your eyebrows shoot up when you feel his dick strain against his shorts. A smirk suddenly comes across your face and your nose brushes his when you lean forward. “Eddie,” you ask in a low voice. “Does thinking of me full of cum make you hard?”

Eddie swallows past the lump that’s formed in his throat. “You were pretty fucking full last night,” he says, his fingers digging into your thighs. “I came in you so many fucking times.”

“And that doesn’t worry you?”

Should it? Eddie thinks part of him should be worried. He doesn’t have a full-time job yet and no savings to speak of so if you do end up pregnant he’ll have to get his shit together.

No. No, the thought doesn’t scare him. It does the opposite. Suddenly, it’s all he can think about.

Eddie groans and kisses you, his hands excitedly squeezing your thighs. The only thing he can think about is fucking himself into you again, filling you up until you can’t take it anymore, just like he did last night. Fuck, what if he stays inside you even after he cums? Just plugs you up with his dick to make sure none of it goes to waste.

“Eddie,” you gasp when his lips find your neck. “Fuck, how are you ready for more even after last night?”

“It’s you, sweetheart. It’s all you.” He draws back to look you in the eye. “But do you want to know the main reason?”

Your eyes search his, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. Slowly, you nod.

“I want to fuck a baby into you,” he says. “I want everyone to know that we’re together and that I’m the person you chose. When they see you pregnant, they’ll know you’re mine and I’m yours.”

You inhale sharply, still staring at him with that wide-eyed look. “That’s…”

“Insane? Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make me want it any less.” Eddie doesn’t move, doesn’t want to do anything until he knows how you feel about all this. You’re quiet and that worries him. Part of him is expecting you to tell him he’s crazy because he knows exactly how it sounds.

And yet, you’re still there. You haven’t pushed him away or rejected him.

“One condition,” you say, looping your arm around his neck.

It’s like the air is stolen from his lungs and he’s suddenly breathless. “Anything.”

“We bring these pancakes into the room and eat between sessions because I am not letting all this food go to waste.”

Eddie grins, sliding his arm around your waist and yanking you off the counter. “Sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, trust me, I can think of better ones.”

You kiss him and he deepens it, nearly bending you backward in his excitement. When you slip out of his grasp, he grabs for you, pulling your back against his chest. He can’t let you go, can’t stop touching you now that he’s one-hundred percent confident you’re all in.

“I’m just getting the plate, Eddie. Jesus, calm down,” you say, laughing at his eagerness.

“Hard to be calm when you’re walking around in panties and my shirt. Also, you just agreed to let me cum inside you again so, no, I won’t calm down.”

Smirking, you grab the plate and he lets you walk away, only because he knows you’re headed to the bedroom. His eyes stay trained on your swaying hips the entire time as he follows, kicking the door closed behind him.

You put the plate down and pick up one of the few truffles that are left in the box. Eddie watches you bite it in half before offering the rest to him. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he wraps his lips around the chocolate, sucking it from your fingers, his tongue swiping away what’s started to melt. Shit, just knowing what this chocolate is going to do is enough to rev him up. Not that he wasn’t already.

You throw your arms around his neck, kissing him. Together you share the taste of chocolate, moaning into each other’s mouths. Your tongue licks at his, stealing what bit of candy he has swallowed yet. When you draw back, Eddie doesn’t let you get far.

With a squeak of surprise, you’re flung onto the bed. He is on you in a second, kissing at your lips and yanking at the shirt you’re wearing.

The offending garment gets pulled off and tossed away. He wants you like he’s never wanted anyone. His urges are stronger than ever, even though the chocolate hasn’t kicked in yet. When it does, they’re only going to get stronger.

Eddie watches hungrily as you slip your panties down your legs, almost teasing him with how slow you move. He’s wasting no time, shoving his boxers off and flinging them who knows where.

Now you’re fully naked, laying spread out on his bed in the middle of the day. No hesitation or questions about how you feel or what you want.

Eddie’s already hard and he sucks in a breath when he sees your eyes grow hooded. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you stare shamelessly at his dick.

“How do you want me?” you ask, gaze flickering up to meet his.

Eddie grabs himself, vaguely aware he’s still sensitive from last night yet not giving a single fuck. “Right where you are,” he says, jerking himself off. “Just lay there and spread your legs.”

When you do, he moans, taking in the view of you open, waiting for him. Fuck he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. The urge to bury himself balls deep is pretty strong, yet his tongue wants a taste. Fuck he wants to do everything and anything you’ll let him.

“You want to know a secret?” you ask, your hand sliding down your stomach towards your waiting mound.

Eddie nods, too worked up to speak.

“I’ve touched myself and thought of you,” you admit, sliding two fingers through your folds. Fuck, you’re wet already. He can hear it, see you glistening in the weak light of day. “Sometimes I can’t cum unless I think of you.”

Eddie’s eyes are glued to what you’re doing. He kneels on the bed, his hand still working himself. When he glances at your face, he notices you wince.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand immediately stopping.

You sigh heavily. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just…more tender than I thought I’d be.”

He’s not surprised, especially after last night. Sliding between your legs, Eddie lets go of himself.

“Let me kiss it and make it all better.”

He descends, laying a trail of kisses down your chest. Looping his arms around your thighs, he brings you closer with a sharp tug and blows softly on your already oversensitive nub.

You gasp, body tensing for a moment until he starts to glide his tongue through your folds. Fuck you taste good. Heady and somehow familiar even though he hasn’t had you like this yet. There wasn’t time last night. Once he came in you the first time he was too focused on doing it again to think of using his mouth.

It's not until he’s fully buried between your thighs that he realizes what he’s tasting.

Himself.

Fuck, you taste like him. Of course. Of course, you do. Because he was in you so much last night. Shit, he can still taste himself on you and holy shit is that thought too much.

His moan drowns yours out.

You fall onto your back, hands finding their way into his messy hair.

Eddie sucks start slow, however, as the minutes tick by he becomes greedy. Thoughts of being careful go right out the window. He can’t help it. How can he be careful when he knows you’re his now? It’s like this dormant possessive side has awakened and he can’t put it back to sleep. Doesn’t know if he wants to, to be honest.

Not when it’s making you moan his name. “Fuck, Eddie, your mouth is so good,” you moan, tugging on his hair. “Holy shit your tongue is everywhere.”

Eddie’s lost in his own world. His dick is trapped against the mattress and he can’t help humping it, trying to relieve some of the pressure. He hasn’t forgotten your confession. Hasn’t ignored the fact that you can’t cum without thinking of him.

It's only fitting since he can’t cum unless he thinks of you.

Fuck, that urge to do everything to you is back with a vengeance. His brain is screaming at him to fuck you, to bury himself in that addictive heat. Not yet. He needs to feel you cum on his tongue. You’re already grinding against his face, yanking on his hair in warning.

He knows what that means.

Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard and you throw your head back, calling his name so loud he’s sure the whole trailer park can hear. Good. He wants them to hear, wants them to know that Eddie “the freak” Munson made you cum with only his tongue.

Eddie draws back, panting. You lay spread beneath him, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

He doesn’t wait for you to recover. He can’t.

When he pushes his dick into you, you’re so relaxed and pliant it’s a smooth glide. A perfect fit.

You inhale sharply, letting out a small groan as Eddie gives an experimental thrust.

“Too much?” he pants, eager yet worried about hurting you.

You shake your head. “No, no, you’re good. You’re so fucking good.”

Grinning, Eddie pulls almost completely out before slamming himself back in. Your back bows, hands twisting the bedsheets when he does it again, and again, and again…

Fuck you’re so fucking wet for him he can’t take it. His lap is already soaked, spurred on by the obscenely wet noises each time he thrusts.

“Fuck, such a good pussy,” he groans, resting his weight on his elbow as he leans over you. It brings him close enough to capture your lips, wanting you to taste yourself as he fucks you. “I’m gonna wanna fuck you all the time now.”

“Yes, Eddie, please,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Fuck a baby into me.”

Eddie loses what little control he has left. He fucks you harder, filling the room with the sound of skin slapping skin. Fuck you’re so wet he can feel it seep onto his balls, knows there’s going to be yet another stain on his mattress. He doesn’t care.

He's going to fuck you all day.

Eddie pushes himself onto his knees because he has to look, has to watch his dick going in and out of you so he knows this is real. It’s a visual he’ll never get tired of.

“Slow…slow down,” you gasp, hands clawing at his chest. “Eddie, fuck, it’s too fast.”

“Can’t…stop…” he pants, eyes focused entirely on your pretty pussy and how it looks stretched by his dick. “Have too—fuck—have to fill you up.”

He's almost there, he’s so fucking close.

Your fingers wrap around his necklace and you yank him down towards you, forcing him to stop. It takes him completely by surprise.

His body is shaking, his heart racing as he looks you in the eye, tears starting to run down his cheeks. He’s so hard it hurts. Your mouth finds his, your teeth grazing his bottom lip in your haste.

“Slow down,” you pant, between kisses. “I want to savor it.”

Eddie moans your name and starts to fuck you again, this time slower. He makes his thrusts deep every time, drawing out as much as you’ll let him before your heels in his lower back pull him in.

You’re clenching around him and he’s losing his fucking mind.

A hand yanks his head back and you force him to look you in the eye. Anytime his eyes threaten to close, you do it again.

“Need to see those big brown eyes when you cum,” you say, laying kisses along his jaw. “Want to see your face when you fill me up.”

He’s done for.

It takes one more thrust to undo him. He fucks his way through it, eyes never leaving yours. He cums deep inside, keeping himself buried to the hilt when he finishes. He doesn’t dare pull out. The slickness of your cum-covered walls is almost enough to make him hard again if the chocolate wasn’t going to do it for him.

You pull him into a kiss, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him to keep him close. Not that he’s planning on moving any time soon.

The two of you lay that way for some time, leisurely making out. Even when he softens, he doesn’t move, doesn’t dare risk slipping out of you. It takes a good minute or two before he gets half-hard again.

After a while, you start to squirm. “Eddie,” you moan softly.

“Just a little longer.” He’s not ready to leave your heat yet. Not only that, he’s incredibly comfortable laying on top of you.

“You’re kind of crushing me.”

“Shit, sorry.”

Reluctantly, he pulls out, sitting back on his heels. You whimper, your sore pussy dripping because of him. He uses his thumb to push his cum back in, biting his lip when he meets your wide eyes.

“Don’t want it to go to waste,” he says.

You stare at him for a moment before beckoning him forward. “Come here.”

When he moves to lay with you, you turn on your side facing him, throwing your leg over his hip. Eddie lines himself up and pushes into you again. You’re still so spread open from before it’s easy enough to do even though he’s not fully hard.

Holding you close, Eddie runs his fingers up and down your arms, gently kissing you. You relax into the kiss, your lips twitching into a smile.

Fuck does he love you.

“Marry me,” he mumbles.

You draw back just enough to look him in the eye. “What?”

“You heard me. Marry me.”

Your eyes search his, most likely wondering if he’s serious. Which of course he is.

He puts his finger in his mouth, using it to take one of his skull rings off. Once he manages, he slips it onto your ring finger.

You stare at the ring, then him, then back to the ring. Slowly, your face breaks into a smile and you lay your hand on his cheek.

“Yes.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah?”

You nod and he kisses you deeply. He can’t fucking believe how happy he is right now Seconds go by and he feels himself twitching, the delicious heat of you too enticing to ignore. You moan softly when you can feel him get harder.

“You promised we’d eat between sessions,” you tease as his hips start to leisurely roll back and forth.

“But you feel so good, sweetheart,” he moans, sucking at your throat. “Besides I’m pretty sure this is still the same session. We didn’t stop, just took a breather.”

“I have an idea. Here, sit up.”

Reluctant, but intrigued, Eddie draws out of you and rolls onto his back so he can sit up. When you move, he can’t see the mess he’s made but he knows it’s there. You reach for the plate you abandoned, carefully bringing it to the bed

The next thing he knows, you’re swinging your leg over him, sinking onto his dick while holding a forkful of pancake out for him to taste. That mess is all over him. Between that and you warming his dick while feeding him food, he can’t help being struck by how fucking lucky he is.

There has never been a more perfect woman.

“I fucking love you,” he says before taking the offered bite.

You grin. “See, I told you I could come up with better ideas.”

Eddie thinks this is the best idea you’ve ever had.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #joe quinn #joseph quinn #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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light-yaers · 2 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me: Chapter One

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, implied sexual content, flirting, eventual sexual content/smut, 18+

Find the chapter list here

Word Count: 3.5k

Chapter One

It wasn’t because you were so overwhelmed at seeing his face again, or all-consumed with how devilishly handsome he’d grown to be over the years—no.

It was because you were so drunk that shapes on the walls were moving. It was because, when you looked at your hands and fingers, there were another seventeen fingers that you couldn’t remember having beforehand.

Maybe if you were sober, you would have been more elegant when his eyes had met yours. Maybe if you were coherent, you would have objected about the way he so swiftly picked you up, flipped you over his shoulder and dragged you up the stairs to his room.

Sure, you put up a fight. A dramatic one. One where you felt like Fiona and he was Shrek and you were battering your fists on his back and kicking your legs for him to put you down, spouting incoherent bollocks along the lines of “It’s been ages, asshole! You don’t know me well enough to do this anymore!” except your words were slurred and you think your brain is short-circuiting and can’t actually get through the entire sentence.

It was your fault for going to a fucking frat party after years of refusing college. They were inherently sexist, little boy’s groups for men to take off their shirts and rub each other’s nipples in some fake exchange of being bros.

You were smart enough to know that 30% of all frat boys were gay as hell. Good for them.

But there you were—third day of being a college freshman, attending the only school you’d ever dreamt of going to when you were eleven and wanted to be the President. It took you two years to finally apply and then an extra year to actually commit to going.

Twenty-one and drunk as fuck at a random frat party was not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life, and then to be back in Poe’s arms... that was the icing on a very badly made cake. One of those hedgehog cakes where they poke in chocolate fingers and give them false teeth, so they look like they’re going to show up in your sleep paralysis nightmares.

“You’re unbelievable,” Poe muttered, before whacking your butt down on his unmade bed, unceremoniously.

“Awh,” you let out, lifting yourself up to sitting and looking up at him. “You missed me?” you slur.

“You stalking me now?” he said, and it annoys you that he’s probably on his fifth or sixth beer and isn’t even that drunk yet. It makes you feel sad too, just for a second, imagining that you two had missed those first drunk high school nights out with each other. Whatever.

“I’m too drunk to think up a good comeback to your awful attempt at an insult,” you managed to get out, semi proud of yourself when you shuffle back to sit on the very centre of his mattress. You press your hand down and it sinks into the memory foam, but that’s not what you’re so mesmerised by—

The blanket. It’s the same one he’s had since he was nine. You still remembered the way he begged his mom to buy it for him in Walmart. It’s still soft, despite years of being slept with; and probably even more years of him not washing it. The spaceships and planets and shooting stars still litter the dark blue background of it.

Space. Poe had always loved space.

Anyone would be able to tell that, simply from the mass assortment of space related film posters all over his damp ridden frat walls—2001: A Space Odyssey, Interstellar, Apollo 13.

You’re too busy looking around the room with wild eyes that you hardly noticed he’d left, only flinching when he returns to the room with a jumbo cup of cold water and a stern expression on his pretty boy face.

The alcohol in your system is telling you he’s hot, while the rage in your gut is telling you to pour the contents of the jumbo cup over his head. His chest filled out and his shoulders are broader, and his hair is longer and you know if you were to run your fingers through it, it would be soft. He has a proper jaw now as well, having lost all his teenage puppy fat.

You do nothing, opting to sip the water he’d got you in silence, while he peers down at you with hands on hips and a face that was only saying one thing—

You fucking mess.

“Why are you here?” you finally ask, moving your gaze up to meet his eye. He grimaces on cue.

“Jesus, you really are wasted. I go to college here, you idiot,” he replies. You scowl.

“Oh, fuck off. You know I didn’t mean that,” you hit back with. Even in your drunk state, seeing Poe’s room in this sickening frat house, a ten-minute walk away from your campus accommodation, would be more than enough to tell you he studies here.

You meant, like, here. Why did he bring you up here? Why did he bring you water and why was he staying with you, missing his own party?

He crosses his arms and lets out a sigh. “You looked like you were about to faint,” you scoff immediately as the best comeback comes to mind.

“Yeah, cause I saw your ugly mug again for the first time in—” you pick up your hand, clutching onto the jumbo cup with your teeth and dangling it from your mouth. You count using your fingers.

“Seven,” Poe replies first.

“—Seven years,” you follow suit, taking the cup out of your mouth once more.

There’s a good minute of silence as both of you settle into this again; having an actual conversation; seeing each other’s faces again after so long, despite you being shit-faced.

You can almost hear the cogs in his brain moving, ticking, remembering. Maybe he’s remembering that last day, maybe he’s remembering the fight or the shit he said or the way he made you cry and yell and scream.

Maybe he’s remembering the wing-mirrored look of you rushing towards his mom’s car in a pair of fluffy socks and sweatpants, yelling his name as tears streaked down your cheeks—

“No,” you say aloud, getting mad at yourself for thinking back to that time.

“What?” he questions, and you immediately wave away his confusion.

“Shut up, Poe,”

Oh yeah, that was a good one.

“Shut up, Poe,” he mimics you, like an eight-year-old boy who’d just watched an episode of Spongebob. You’re the first to laugh, bringing your lips to the jumbo cup and spluttering into the water with giggles. He looks at you with a scowl. “You’re a child,”

“I have two thirds of a bottle of vodka in my system and you’re still the one to mock me like a kid,” you mutter, and he can’t deny that you’re talking sense, just this once.

“I didn’t need to help you, y’know? Another two minutes and I wouldn’t have even known you were here,” he begins, starting to pace his room in a huff that you know isn’t just from annoyance.

You sense there’s a war raging in his brain. It’s been so long, things have been left so open-ended and muddied and you know that both of your feelings still hurt from it.

“Going out clubbing with your boys?” you chide, and he sighs.

“I had a hot date. Not anymore,”

“Oh, don’t let me ruina momentous evening of uncomfortable car sex, Poe. By all means, go ahead,” you gesture to the door, sitting back until you’re against his pillows. You flick off your shoes dismissively and hug the cup to your chest, scowl on your face.

He looks down at his floorboards, scuffing his shoe against a nail that’s coming loose. “You’re not... you’re not how I thought you’d be after all this time,”

“What? Drunk as fuck talking about bad car sex on top of your old spaceship blanket?” you let out, and he almost explodes. You can see it in his eyes how much your slurring words are getting to him, but some damaged part of yourself doesn’t care.

“Fucking hell,” he brings his hands to his face and drags his fingers down his cheeks. “I don’t know who the fuck taught you how to make a comeback, but I’m sort of pissed off that it wasn’t me,”

You go quiet. “Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you leave, Poe,” you say venomously.

Poe’s nostrils flare and you think he’s going to take your bait, you think he’s going to bite down on it and yell, but he doesn’t.

“We’re not talking about this right now, nope,” he says strongly. “You’re shit-faced and I’m getting there and this is the first time I’ve seen your fucking face in what seems like forever and I—just can’t,”

For once, you don’t reply. You had something you could of said, something along the lines of “Oh, you just can’t remember the way you broke my heart into a thousand pieces?” but it’s not worth it. It’s not worth saying when he’s right.

If only you’d seen each other again at a café or in a bookstore or on campus when you could have stared at each other for a weird amount of time and had war flashbacks, and then just walked away. Walked away and forgot all about it. Until the next inevitable night out or party where you’re invited by a friend of a friend of a friend and you’re smoking outside and he’s in a pool, or something, and he gets out and he’s all wet and his hair is curling on his forehead like it used to and he... where were you going with this?

God, I am drunk.

You raise a hand to your forehead as it starts punching your brain painfully.

“Do you need an aspirin?” Poe says. He’s dropped himself onto the end of the mattress and he’s leaning down on his knees with his elbows, and you can tell now that he’s freaking out. He can’t believe that you’re here again with him.

“Aspirin makes me drowsy,” you let out.

“You can sleep here. You’re not fucking walking home in this state,” Poe says, and some sick part of you thinks he’s being caring, and other part of yourself thinks he’s trying to be clever and one up you. God, if this inner war keeps being a thing, you’re going to whack your head against a doorframe.

“My friends are downstairs,” you say timidly.

“What, you mean those three girls laughing at you as you struggled to stand up straight? Yeah, they seem like great friends,” Poe spits.

“They’re on the same floor as me,” you say, croaking ever so slightly.

“That doesn’t make them your friends,” he’s right, but you don’t tell him that. Those girls aren’t even your type of people. They’re a different breed completely. It’s been three days since you arrived and you know they’re not for forever—classes haven’t started yet; you haven’t had the chance to know anyone yet.

“I don’t even know why I drank so much,” you begin, and Poe turns his ear to listen to you subtly. The annoyance is radiating off him in waves but he’s still here, still listening. “It took me three years to finally go to college and I’m still not even sure if I made the right decision,”

“You’re not the only one,” Poe replies, and you let out a long breath as you ready yourself to listen. “After high school, I applied to community college, went there for two years before I dropped out. I applied here right after,”

“You mean... you’re only just out of your freshman year?” you question. Poe nods.

“Yeah. I’m a fucking sophomore. A twenty-two year-old sophomore, living in a frat because I couldn’t find any other roommates and—well—I’m the lacrosse Captain, so—

,”

All of a sudden, you feel like you’re going to vomit. You start rocking back and forth, your mind pelting you with images of being young and playing sports and how lacrosse was yours and Poe’s thing.

The reason this college was a dream of yours wasn’t just because you wanted to be the most intelligent person in a room, but because the lacrosse team was elite. It was your favourite, his too. Probably still to this day.

You were going to go to try-outs next month, going to see if you still had it.

And Poe was the fucking Captain.

“No, no, no no—,”

Poe turns around quickly, shuffling up the bed as he realises how pale you look. “Hey—,” he reaches out to you. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, you’re the fucking lacrosse Captain,” you let out, moving away from his outstretched hand as your stomach performs twisting summersaults. “Fan-fucking-tastic!” you yell it, and the mixture of concern and anger on Poe’s face is palpable.

“That’s what you’re upset about? Fucking hell, I thought you were having an alcohol induced seizure—,” you jump off the bed and wobble as you cut him off with one singular shhhh. It sounds like a hiss.

“Look at this!” you let out, coming in close to his face. You feel crazy, you look crazy. “Who was it that said this was their favourite college?”

“Oh, for fucks—,” Poe begins.

“Say it!” you cut him off. He sighs.

“You,”

“And who was it that fell in love with lacrosse here?” you continue. Poe looks pissed off to oblivion, but he can see the fire in your eyes. You think he gets it, gets where you’re coming from, especially when he says—

“It was you,” he replies. “These were your dreams,”

“Yeah,” you let out, and now that the sick feeling in your stomach has gone down, you feel more sober. You feel clearer, less foggy, and you can tell Poe sees it too. He stands up opposite you, and a wave of humiliation hits you intensely.

This is the first time you’ve properly looked at him, all dark curls and deep eyes and sharp as razors jaw and it’s Poe. It’s just fucking Poe, but he’s seven years older and you still remember how messed up your feet were after running the three blocks to his house in socks and how bad your chest had hurt when he’d first said you had been nothing but a blight to him.

You take one step back, not wanting to cry in front of him as everything comes flooding back. “Sorry for taking up your time,” you say sternly, and the way his face drops is enough to make your gut coil.

“Hey, just wait a damn second—,” he says, a tinge of desperation within his words as you continue to step back towards the door.

“Thanks for the water,” you add, before you rush out of his room and down the stairs immediately. You don’t take your shoes.

He’s on your tail, following you as you rocket down the stairs and whisk past a table for beer pong and past a tiny and sticky dance space in the living room where your friends are all hooking up with other jocks or lacrosse players or whoever. Your shoes dangle from his fingers, but still you don’t stop.

You bombard out the front door and it’s still dark, but you can hear a few birds tweeting which means it’s late, and you’re stupid. You hug yourself as you tread out onto the lawn, and that’s when Poe sprints—

“Wait,” he repeats, running until he’s standing in front of you and you’re trying to slalom to get out of his way and you’re so fucking annoyed that you ever had to see his fucking face again, especially when you’re drunk and tearful and in a new place surrounded by people who laugh at you when you’re down.

“Poe—,” you let out, and you think you’re about to cry, and he’s coming towards you—

And when you wake up, you’re in your bed. It’s bright, and the sun burns your eyes when you draw open the shitty blinds of your tiny room.

You gasp and check the floor immediately—Poe’s not here. Thank fuck. You don’t remember getting home, but you remember everything else, despite the haze from the booze. You groan as you bring a hand to your forehead; it’s pounding so hard it feels like someone’s given you a lobotomy.

Maybe you need one.

Your room being right next door to the shared kitchen was not a good call, since you can hear your prissy roommates all gossiping and laughing about the night before already; but there’s a voice mixed within them that makes you stand up so abruptly that the walls begin to rattle.

You tug on an oversized pair of sweats and tie your hair up grossly and pray that there are no stains on your massive crew neck before you tug the door open and waddle to the kitchen. You burst through the door, and the four faces that hit you make you want to crawl into a hole and never return.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Poe says, standing up slowly as he brings a mug of coffee to his lips—he’s drinking out of one of your mugs. The bastard.

“Girl—,” one of the girls turns to you. You can’t remember if she’s Natasha or Selena. It ends with an a though. “You didn’t tell us you know Poe,”

You smile at her falsely, overcome with the immense urge to say I don’t anymore. Instead, you head towards where Poe is pouring more coffee into his mug. You reach out for it, feeling nothing but guilt and embarrassment.

“So, you walked me home then,” you say, as the girls go back to their conversation.

“You didn’t want me to, in your defence. That one’s on me,” he replies, adding a single sugar.

“And you stayed...”

“On your floor,” he finishes the sentence for you. He taps the spoon against the side of the mug once.

“Comfortable, was it?” you joke.

“Only made better by the drunk snores you were producing,” he smiles at you overdramatically. You pull the coffee from his grip and take a gulp. When it hits your stomach, you lean back against the counter-top next to him, staring at the ceiling while your heartbeat takes over your entire body.

“Don’t worry,” you let out, coming back to yourself. “I won’t be darkening your doorway again,”

Poe’s silence is almost sad. “Fine,” he says.

“Good,” you reply, taking another long sip of coffee.

Poe stands up then, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys and phone. “I’ll be going then,” he says.

“Fine,” you shrug.

“Good,” he adds. He turns to the other girls. “Goodbye, ladies,” he says with a smile, and you try not to gag.

They all spout out their own renditions of goodbye Poe at different levels of sickening, before he opens the kitchen door and waits for you to walk out with him. You walk with him down the corridor for a moment, stopping in front of the exit to the stairwell.

He places his hand on the door but stops before leaving.

“Can you remember other bits of last night?” he asks. You don’t know why he wants to know, but you indulge him.

“I can remember everything up to you walking me home,” you say truthfully.

“So, you remember being on the lawn,” he says. You squint at him.

“I... think so. I left and you followed and then you walked me home,”

Poe nods to himself, sucking in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly it,”

You know he’s lying. He’s pulling the same face he used to when he was young, he sucks his lips in and nods and zones out on a spot on the wall before him and wonders if he should tell you that you’re wrong or if he should just lie.

He still just lies.

You tap your mug, at a loss for what to say. You were supposed to be in this fight, supposed to have never seen his stupidly pretty face again or laughed at his bad jokes or had his care and concerned eyes scan you relentlessly.

But now he’s here, and he walked you home and gave you water and slept on your fucking floor to make sure you were okay—but you’re not sure you want it. Not immediately, not after neither of you have spoken about when you last saw each other.

No, no. This is too much.

“Bye,” he says first. It’s not a see you later and you know why he didn’t say that—because he feels the same fear of knowing each other again after so long and he doesn’t want to scare you or himself. So, he says bye, because sometimes it means forever but sometimes it doesn’t.

“Bye, Poe,” you reply.

And then you turn away and cower back to your room, and lean back against your door until you slide down to the floor and tell yourself—

Never fucking go to a frat ever again, bitch.

Tag List: @noctem-vincere

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron #fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #star wars #ao3 #archive of our own #wattpad #x reader #reader insert #angst and smut #angst and fluff #writeblr #lightyaers #star wars ff

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whumpzone · 3 years

Text

Linden & Colton - 15

(masterpost)

another exercise in triggering col, haha. ever since ive had whumpy daydreams as a child ive liked thinking about the caretaker brushing the whumpees teeth. this was meant to be fluffier but i like how it's become something unique to colton <3

CW: NSFW, triggered whumpee, heavy references to n0ncon oral sex, dehumanisation, pet whump

Something was bothering Linden as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror one morning. He could hear the uncertain thumps of Col’s footsteps downstairs- sometimes he could hear him dragging his feet, scared to lift them entirely off the ground. He turned his attention back, trying to figure out what was annoying him.

Then he realised, as he looked into the small jar on the side of the sink. Col’s toothbrush was bone dry. There weren’t even flecks of toothpaste down the handle. He frowned. He really, really couldn’t let that happen. He thought about how if Colton only spoke, he might have noticed sooner, might have caught it on his breath, but he stopped himself. It’s not his fault.

The bathroom looked directly through to the staircase, and as Linden walked out he caught the familiar pair of eyes peering up at him, before Col quickly drew himself back behind the wall.

But Linden had seen him, and they both knew it. It was as if Col could tell already that he was in trouble. He rarely pulled back from Linden in any way, but today he was already halfway across the room by the time Linden had descended the stairs.

“Have you been brushing your teeth?” he asked plainly, not knowing how else to go about it.

Col shook his head, of course he did, but there was a brief second where Linden could see that he was considering lying. He liked that.

. . .

Pet had to confess, but it made him feel hot and prickly with fear. He had been bad. Master’s voice was firm and clipped. He was disappointed in him.

“You have to,” Master ordered, and Pet nodded immediately. Okay, okay, I will. I won’t hesitate. “Why haven’t you so far? Were you- was it because you thought you weren’t allowed? Or were you… scared to? Does it hurt?”

Pet’s head started to spin, and he cringed hard as Master sighed, heavy with frustration. “Sorry, sorry. Way too many questions, I know. Besides, it’s not- wait!” Master suddenly looked up at his pet intensely, and like a poorly-behaved dog, he flinched. Master hardly seemed to notice, though, as he continued, “You said the other day, didn’t you, that you can’t hold a pencil well? It’s hard to grip it? Is it… is the toothbrush too hard to hold properly?”

How did he know? Pet nodded, defeatedly. He had tried, fuck, he really had, fighting a losing battle in the wee hours until he could have wept with frustration. He glanced down at his hands. For a brief moment there weren’t clean and unbound, they were bleeding, the wire was cutting into him, cutting to the bone it felt, and he could barely twitch without the pain shooting all the way up his arms. The memories were so real, sometimes. And wasn’t it helpful that the pain never truly left? It had followed him from his old owner’s house to the streets all the way to Master’s front door and beyond, a phantom trailing along his joints, keeping him reminded of his place.

“That’s okay. I can help.”

Master’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, thankfully, and as he turned to stride upstairs Pet followed him meekly, hands cradled before him.

He was ordered to sit on the lid of the toilet while Master busied himself. It made Pet stiffen up. It looked eerily similar to when his old owner had something big planned, and he made his slave sit helplessly and watch. When Master turned to him, holding the toothbrush like a weapon, the association was so strong that it made Pet whimper and duck his head. Oh, god, he was so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Master said, and it truly sounded like there was feeling behind the words, like he really meant it. It was cruel. “I don’t have a choice.”

You do, Pet thought, even though it was disobedient. Master always has a choice. Master controls everything.

“This is for your own good,” he said. “You understand, Col?”

Oh, Pet understood well. He had endured many horrors for his own good, and this was not among the worst. He would gladly submit to Master’s strange ritual.

But then- “I promise it won’t be too bad. Can you open up?”

Pet gasped. He was back, he was back there, not again, please please please not again. He was strung up and completely defenceless. He wasn’t in control, he never had been, he was an object and he was being used.

He opened his mouth wide, letting his tongue sit over his teeth. Master punished him if it even looked at if he’d try to bite. The corners of his vision started to gloss over.

Then. A hand gently brushed his jaw. Fingers pressed into his skin. Holding him in place? Making sure he stayed good?

He let out a pathetic cry of fear.

. . .

“Col, Col, I’m so sorry, I can tell you’re scared,” Linden said, as Col’s eyes started to glaze over. He hardened his voice, “Col! Stay with me, sweet, come on. You’re being brave, come on.”

He should just get it over with, he realised, and pushed the toothbrush in. Col started to close his mouth, and Linden gripped a little harder on his jaw. He wanted to at least exhaust all his other options before he physically pulled the boy’s mouth open.

“Keep your mouth open, there we go. Now just hold still.”

I’m giving him orders. But it was the simplest way, it was so quick, it was to help the boy. Linden gritted his own teeth. He could worry about the ethics of it later.

Colton’s teeth weren’t as dirty as he’d feared, and Linden made light work of brushing them down. He checked in on Col every so often. His eyes were still glassy, but he seemed at least half-there.

“You okay?” A small huff of affirmation. “Good. Almost there.”

It felt so strangely intimate, brushing his teeth. As if he hadn’t already seen him stark naked in the damn bath. I dunno, he thought. I’m so close to him. He’s sitting so still. There’s nowhere to run.

He finished up just as a strand of frothy toothpaste started to crest over his lip and drip down his chin, some of it along Linden’s fingers. Col rinsed, scooping the water into his mouth with his hands in a rigid claw shape, and then looked in Linden’s direction for the next order.

“Well done, Col. That was important, and you sat there like a wonderful rock and made it so quick and easy. I’m very- I’m very happy with you. We’ll work on holding the toothbrush, yeah? But for now we can head downstairs and get on with the day.”

Col nodded, a bit dull, but Linden decided not to push him.

. . .

Pet felt himself coming back as soon as he was allowed to close his jaw. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened. It felt as if Master had just brushed his teeth, like he said. And yet-

And yet he was rinsing out his mouth, and the taste wasn’t minty anymore but something far more foul, and he was being told how well he took it, how he made it so easy, how he made Master happy. He was back there because he could never escape, never truly.

Master finished talking, evidently, and turned to leave. Pet trailed after him, his eyes filling with tears, but he managed to keep his shaky breaths quiet. Master was happy with him and Pet’s feelings didn’t matter.

first half of the taglist!

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

#pet whump #linden and colton #dehumanisation #pet whumpee #slave whump #conditioned whumpee #mine

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sammy8d257 · 9 months

Note

hey i just wanted to ask you something

i just finished one another of your AU's, In the Week that Follows

and i was hooked! and wanna know when the next chapter/day will come out?

no need to rush take all the time you need to complete it,

your story's are a piece of art, awesome work!

Ah- Aw thank you Anon!

The last section of Day 1 is almost complete, I just need to finish writing a few paragraphs and edit it

So hopefully, I can get the entire chapter out and posted to A03 before the end of this month

I'm sorry it's been taking so long for this fic to get updated, Real Life stuff always needs to come first but I'm super glad that people are still interested in it!

"In the Week that Follows" is actually part of my "Watered Down Hot Chocolate" series if you're interested in more from this world! The WDHC is basically where I take all my headcanons about the AvA/M world and make something of it. Usually they're all focused on Purple and King. Because I'm biased

alsdkgjlsjdgs

You can find the "WDHC" series masterpost -> [WDHC masterpost]

#Sammy8D answers #anon #anonymous #AvAM WDHC #AvAM In the Week that Follows #The 1 year anniversary is coming up #and I swear to god if I don't have the first day fully posted by then #I'm going to explode #Sammy8D queues #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

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garbagevanfleet · 4 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: None yet. Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you.

MASTERPOST

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed @satingrass-maidensfair

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans.

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days.

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor.

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down.

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it.

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little.

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages.

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word.

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand.

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived. “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you.

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.”

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.”

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming.

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?”

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it.

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked.

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for.

“I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy.

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk.

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.”

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head.

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect.

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again.

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping).

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency.

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to.

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited.

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves.

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on.

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall.

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours.

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it.

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again.

He stood back up, so you did as well.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out.

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos.

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs.

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh.

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?”

“I guess I should be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them.

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile.

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off.

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?”

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.”

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull.

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?”

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.”

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

#josh fic #josh kiszka fic #josh x reader #joshxreader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #brightest blue fic

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zeldaelmo · 3 years

Text

Read day 10 here or start with the masterpost

************************************

Day 11

"Hey boss, what are you doing here?" Mipha asked as soon as the back door had clanged shut after her and she began changing her jacket for her workwear. "Isn't today your day off? I mean, I have no problem with leaving if I'm not needed here."

"Just making some Hylia's Day gifts. Too lazy to make a mess at home with worse equipment."

Link crouched to watch the melted chocolate that dripped through the sieve, leaving perfectly round pralines on top. He squinted one eye shut to keep his slight headache at bay when he raised. Mipha had finished washing her hands and dressing in a scarf to cover her hair and joined him.

"Some? You are making chocolates for half Hyrule."

"Yep. And I'm far from finished."

"You sure your Nana should eat so much of them? Isn't diabetes a thing in her age group?"

"Nana hates chocolates." He chuckled. "Even if I make them."

Mipha switched the ovens on to preheat them for the afternoon round of bread and rolls and went over to the cooling room to get the prepared mobile shelvings. Just when Link sprinkled white chocolate as decoration over the chocolates, curiosity took the better of her, and she stepped up to him. "You won't tell what’s up—" With a frown, she stopped. "Is that you or are the chocolates infused with liquor?"

Link flashed her a grin. "You told me to go out, remember?"

Bouncing up and down in excitement, Mipha covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, my goodness, you are hungover and you are grinning like an idiot! What's their name? Where were you? Did you get laid?"

"I had a very nice evening at the winery in Linebeck's Avenue. Did you know that they have a little bar, too?" Bathing in her boundless curiosity, Link put his tool back and leaned casually against the counter. "Very intimate. You should take Revali there for your anniversary."

"Maybe I will. But tell me more! Are they the reason for all these chocolates, too?"

"Yep."

Chuckling, Mipha checked the temperature of the oven and crossed her arms. "You are going 'all in', right?"

"Never hurts to be polite. And I can hardly show up for the holidays with empty hands."

"You are going to visit them for the holidays? How long is that already going? And what about your Nana?!" Mipha brimmed with excitement now, and Link's grin grew and grew. This was too funny.

"Don't worry, it's nothing official. Just a favor. And Nana… kind of gave us the idea."

The gears turned in Mipha's head and she only shrieked out of her trance when the oven beeped. "Okay," she said while she closed the door after shoving the first tray in, "who is it? I need a name to gush."

Link only answered when she had filled the oven with the remaining trays and pressed the button for the steam.

"Zelda."

The smile slipped from Mipha's face like snow from a roof.

"I know what you think. Don't worry. It's an agreement and we both know that it's only that."

"What kind of agreement? Nothing along the friends-with-benefits-line, I hope? That always ends with one falling for the other and it's no secret who that will be."

Link carried his chocolate-smeared tools over to the sink and began to fill it with hot water. "No. Nothing like that. You know that I'm not the type for that. And neither is she, as far as I can tell."

Mipha studied the floor, the oven gloves in her hands forgotten. "Link, I hope you don't mind my concerns. I don't mean to stand in the way of your happiness. If you find with her what you are looking for, I will no longer say a word."

"But?" With an eye roll directed at himself, Link rubbed the bubbles from his sleeves that had landed there when he had trashed the tools in the sink at her words.

"My brother Sidon is married to one of her cousins. I saw her at the wedding reception two years ago." She tapped the oven gloves against each other. "Never mind that she doesn't even recognize me. But what got me worried is how she treated her boyfriend for the two days."

Finally, Link wiped his hands on a tea towel and turned to give her his attention. "And that was how?"

"She just ignored him. He tried so hard to please her—he did everything for her. From carrying her clutch to bringing her drinks, everything. And she didn't care."

"Hm."

"She left without him after church because she forgot about him. He had to take a cab."

"Ouch."

"That's what I'm saying. I don't want you to be treated like this."

Link took a deep breath, feeling his pulse thrumming in his head. "I understand your concern, Mipha. I do. And I promise to remember your advice, okay?"

Mipha pressed her lips into a smile. "I hope I'm wrong."

"She gave me no reason to believe what you told me has anything to do with me. Plus, we are both upright about the fact that we are not dating."

"I know." Mipha sighed and peeked through the window of the oven, very well knowing that the rolls inside were far from ready. "But the heart is a wild spirit who doesn't care for what the mind thinks."

Link offered her a lopsided smile before he cautiously moved the chocolates aside to make room for more. "That's the fascination of love, isn't it?"

#legend of zelda #zelink #zeldaelmo writes #botw #advent calendar #day 11 #Mipha is back on her bullshit #but she has a reason to

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yourstarvic · 4 years

Text

You quickly were knocking the door, aggressively whispering yelling, “Sara! Yui! Open the door! Please!”

After a few more seconds go your knocking, Sara aggressively opened the door. Glaring at you since you woke her up, she whispered yelled at you, “What do you want.”

“Rin and I kissed,” You whispered in panic. Hearing the new information, Sara’s eyes instantly widen and her jaw dropped down in shock. She let out a whisper scream, causing you to do the same as well. “I know,” you whispered back, barging in the room.

“What is going on?” Yui asked, rubbing her eyes as she looked at both of you.

“(Y/n) and Rin kissed,” Sara whispered back, pointing at you as you went to her bed and flopped on it.

“What!” Yui whispered yelled, sitting up from your bed in an alarming manner.

“I know!” Sara said back. As well as you did but in Sara’s pillow. You all then let out an airy yell in panic. “Why are we whispering!” Sara yelled in the middle of the yelling.

“I don’t know,” Yui said in her normal voice. “But what happened (Y/n).”

Taking a deep breath, you got up for the bed and started to pace back and forth in the center of the room. Sara moved to sit next to Yui, both watching you curiously. Taking another deep breath, you stood in front of the two Itachiyama managers. “So um,” you started, “Rin prepared something in the gym… and we were talking…. And then we kissed…”

“We need more detail,” Sara with a creased eyebrow.

“Just tell us about the kiss,” Yui said, not caring about the events before.

“It was so good,” you whimpered, started to describe the details with hand movements. “So, so good! It was slow and passionate but there were times it was rough and fast. As if I died, went to heaven, saw my dead ancestors, said hi to them, and went back down to my body. He just took me! And he was towering over me and putting his body on me but not his whole body, you know?”

“No, I do not,” Yui smirked, looking at you with amusement.

“Where were your hands?” Sara asked, wanting to know me.

“First it was being his neck,” you showed with your hands, “but then it went to his hair. And I kinda tugged on it, but like in a nice, gently, but rough way. And I swear I heard a small moan, but that’s beside the point.”

“Did Suna walk you back to the dorm and kissed you goodbye?” Yui asked.

“What?” You said with a dumbfounded expression.

“(Y/n),” Sara said seriously, “did you left Suna in the gym?”

“W-Well…” you said with a tight lip smile.

“Huh?” They both said in confusion.

“I told him it was time to go to bed…” you gulped.

“…”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I panicked,” you said loudly, “I didn’t know what to do!”

“You could have stayed!” Yui yelled back.

“I know!” You said, “But in my defense, he asked something that I wanted to avoid…”

“Huh?”

“So um… this is what happened��”

“See…” Suna said hoarsely, “That didn’t change anything.”

“Rin…” That was all you could whisper, feeling this thumb slightly tugging on your bottom lip. Your hands trailed down from his face down to his biceps, gripping them. “I-” you started, but couldn’t find the words to say anything.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Suna whispered, slowly opening his eyes. He saw how your hair sprawled around you, your cheeks had a red tint and your lips were slightly swollen from the kiss. “But you do need a breath mint.”

Your eye twitched at his words in anger. You opened your eyes to glare at him, seeing he was smirking down at you. You gripped his arms harder, making him wince in pain. “What…Did…You…Say?” You told him in a dark tone.

“I said,” Suna leaned his head back, taking his hand away from your face and place it on the floor next to your head, “you need a breath mint.”

“You jerk,” you yelled at him. Pushing him off of you and straddling him in a seating position as you hold on to the collar of his shirt. Tugging on it harshly, you winged him back and forth as you yelled at him, “That’s all you have to say! You need a breath mint? You jerk! You can’t say that to someone after having a kiss, an amazing kiss!”

“You think the kiss was amazing?” He smirked, holding your hands to pry them off his shirt.

“I never said that,” you stop tugging on the collar. “I just said kiss.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

The two of you went back and forth at it. And just as a few minutes before, it led to the both of you kissing once again. Letting go of the collar of his shirt, you wrapped your arms around his neck and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling each other closer.

The two of you clinging to each other, trying to be close to each other as possible. But in-between the kiss, the two of you would mutter small sentences.

“We should stop,” you muttered before you kissed him again.

“We should,” Suna agreed, doing the same as you.

“This is crossing the line.” Kiss.

“It is.” Kiss.

“We really should stop.” Kiss.

“We could.” Kiss.

The two of you did stop after a few moments. Slowly breaking away from his lips, both of you leaned your forehead against each other. “That was…” you trailed off.

“Amazing?” Suna slightly smirked, bring up what you said earlier.

“I hate you.”

“I don’t know,” Suna nudged his nose with yours, “that kiss says differently.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, leaning back slightly.

“But,” Suna whispered, “does that mean we are dating now?”

“Dating?” You gulped, backing away from him.

“Yeah?” Suna nodded slowly, letting go of your face and put it planted on the floor.

“Like a date, date?” You said, trying to register the events.

“Like a date, date.”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“W-With feelings for each other?”

“I mean…” Suna shrugged, “and we figure that out along the way?”

“It’s getting late,” you said with a tight lip. Getting up and looked down at him, seeing you were looking at you with wide eyes, “We should get some sleep since we are leaving tomorrow, goodnight.”

“So um…” You told the two girls with an awkward laugh and finger guns, “that’s what happened.”

“Oh.”

“My.”

“God,” they both said together, looking at you with disbelief.

“Yeah…” You nodded, “Not proud of myself.”

“Well, do you want to be with him?” Sara genuinely asked you.

To which you shrugged your shoulders at her, “I don’t know…”

“How do you not know?” Yui looked at you with disbelief. Standing up from the bed, she walked over to you and grab your shoulders, shaking you, “He is hot! And you know him since you moved to Japan when you were little!”

“I don’t know!” You said as she was shaking you, “I’m confused!”

“There’s nothing to be confused about!” Yui yelled back, “Do you like him or not!”

“Maybe!” You yelled, trying to make Yui stop shaking you, “I’m terrible with figuring out my feelings!”

“What’s his favorite food?” Yui asked, continuing to shake you.

“Fruit jelly sticks!”

“What does he love to do?”

“Take naps!”

“What his favorite color?”

“Black!”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes!”

Right when you answer her question, you looked at her in shock. She stopped shaking you, giving you a mischievous smile. “Wait,” you started.

“I knew it!” Yui yelled triumphantly.

“I-It was in a friendly way!” You tried to explain.

“You like him!” Yui teased you.

“Shut up,” Sara said coldly to the both of you, cause you to tense at her voice. “You’re yelling and we could get it trouble.”

“S-Sorry,” You and Yui said shyly.

“But anyway,” Sara sighed, giving you a smile, “it’s clear you like him, (Y/n). Base on your disruption of the kiss and that you kissed him twice is a sign.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Sara said firmly. “I know you are confused. Think about your feelings for him and talk to him. In the meantime, go to bed. You are leaving back to Hyogo tomorrow, and you need your rest.”

Letting out a sigh in defeat, you nodded your head. You thanked them for listening o you and bid them goodnight as you left. You went back to your room, making sure to stay quiet went inside your room. Laying inked, you stared at the ceiling, trying to think bout the events. Gently placing your fingertip on your lips as you thought of the kiss.

Does he have a feeling for me? Do I have feelings for him? I thought he wanted me with Osamu? Why did he say that if he said the kiss didn't mean anything...

Meanwhile….

“Why did I say that,” Suna muttered, feeling the embarrassment crawling all over his body. He now laid in his bed, already done cleaning up in the gym and returning the projector to Komori. With his hands covering his eyes, Suna let out a whine, review the events of tonight.

Why did I kiss her? Did she kiss me?

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow about it,” Suna whispered. “Besides… it won’t change us… Even if I did ask her out…”

Yeah… Talk to her….

MASTERPOST-PREV-NEXT

FUN FACTS:

Suna and Osamu would play pranks on Atsumu and see who can get him to blow up first.

A guy once tried confessed to (Y/n). It was before practice started in the gym where everyone could watch. He wanted to seem bold and confident but everyone on the team was glaring at him he ended up running out of the gym.

Aran, Kita, Omimi, and Akagi would study together.

No one knows that (Y/n) moved to Japan when she was a baby, expect for Suna, Kita, and Aran. Everyone else thinks she was born in Japan.

Atsumu once told a dirty joke to (Y/n) thinking she would find it funny since everyone thought it was funny, including Kita. She didn't didn’t show up to practice until she thought about the joke when she was studying and laughed.

Every Valentines day and White day, everyone on the team would have a competition on who would get the most chocolates and confessions. Kita and (Y/n) share the number one spot. Aran is second followed by Suna. Osamu and Atsumu are tied for fourth place.

Notes: There are almost 300 notes on the masterpost! Thank y'all so much!!! I love y'all and I’m so glad you guys are liking it!!! Stay safe, stay warm, and don't forget to drink water!

TAGLIST: @thelochtessmonster99 @freaksnque @bloody-bella @girlyluke @tendo-sxtori @angels17324 @madmelle @tiktikty-tokity-spagetti @helloalex80 @fandomatakeover18 @mus1caln0tes@kac-chowsballs @satoriluver @bbdaydreams @hi-im-a-bat @circusjanreblogs @420-uwu @sakusaakiyoomii @erinoikawa

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echo-goes-mmm · 1 year

Text

Ambrose and Elliot #16

Masterpost

Warnings: none

Ambrose woke up with a raw throat and a face full of tears. Unsurprising. He always woke up crying when he dreamed of Jay. He sniffed, wiping his face with his trembling hand. He wrapped his arms around himself. He let out a breath, shuddering.

It was always perfect, in the dream. Janus would be right there, so real that Ambrose could feel his warm hand on his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss. But it wasn’t real. Jay wasn’t there anymore; hadn’t been for decades. The gods could dreamwalk, but it was never like that. Janus wouldn’t do that to him anyway. Maybe it would hurt less if he did.

Ambrose stumbled his way into the bathroom. He turned the hot water tap- fuck. Jay had given him the charm to make the water hot. Why was this so hard- he filled the sink and scrubbed his face.

Missing Janus was like missing the sun. You can light as many candles as you want, but it’ll never be enough.

Eventually Jay would come back. Eventually he’d remember, flowers in hand and an apology on his lips. He’d have some great reason, like there was a war on the other side of the world that demanded all the gods’ attention, including him. Or that one of the other gods had cursed Jay in a fit of pettiness and Jay forgot him. But gods struggled with how time worked for humans, so the long years were a blink and it really was a mistake, promise!

Eventually.

But for now, Ambrose would get through his day.

Elliot was waiting for him with a mug of chamomile like always. Ambrose couldn’t stomach it today.

“Sorry, love, I’m not feeling quite right. The tea is yours if you want.” Elliot looked a little concerned, but Ambrose didn’t feel like explaining. He brushed past Elliot and headed downstairs.

He put out the “closed tonight” sign. Today he was going to wallow in misery and tomorrow he’d feel right as rain. Hopefully.

Biscuits and gravy was a wallowing-in-misery meal, and one that Ambrose knew how to make by heart. The tricky part was trying not to get his tears in the mixing bowl.

___________________

Master was… upset. Sad about something, and Elliot didn’t know what. It scared him a little. Ambrose was such a happy man, kind and good. He shouldn’t have to get sad.

Elliot thought as he swept the floor. What could he do to cheer him up?

Master Ambrose didn’t want his usual tea. Maybe hot chocolate? He’d helped Ambrose bring in the supply order yesterday. He knew where it was, and Master loved desserts.

Master was busy in the kitchen now, though. Elliot wanted to surprise him, so he’d have to wait until Ambrose sat down to eat his breakfast.

He wiped down the windows and the sills as he waited. Master was making something delicious in the kitchen; Elliot’s mouth was watering from the scent. But he’d already had breakfast. It would be greedy to eat more. Maybe a morsel would make its way to the dirty dishes stack and Elliot could have a taste.

He couldn’t hear Master crying, but he knew from the silence. Master Ambrose talked to him a lot, and now he wasn’t.

Elliot was ashamed to say he wasn’t in the habit of listening much. His old master had never talked to him like that, and if he did, Elliot wasn’t supposed to listen. Ambrose didn’t seem to mind if Elliot let him chatter without answering. He seemed lonely to rely on Elliot for conversation. Elliot was a poor choice; he was fairly stupid after all, and Master was clearly an educated man.

Eventually Ambrose made his way out of the kitchen, a steaming plate in hand. Perfect. Elliot would go do the dishes while the hot chocolate heated on the stove.

Elliot got out a small pot. He carefully broke off a piece of cinnamon bark and a shaving of nutmeg. He took out some cream and milk from the dairy and poured in just enough for a mug and a half. It was a little selfish to want some himself, but it was easy to brush it aside as just making sure Master got enough. He placed the little pot on the warm stove. Elliot added a pinch of salt. He began to unwrap the chocolate, careful to make sure the brown paper didn’t crinkle too much. It might give him away, and he wanted to keep the package looking nice. A couple spoonfuls of sugar, and it would be the perfect level of sweet for Ambrose’s mild sweet tooth.

He snapped off two good squares of the dark chocolate, placing them gently in the now lukewarm milk and cream. He made sure the fire was low and smoldering, perfect for a nice melt. Elliot got out his favorite wooden spoon, and carefully stirred the pot.

He started on the dishes, leaving the pan of biscuits and the skillet of what appeared to be sausage gravy alone. There was enough for Master to want seconds, and it looked too good to go to waste. Maybe he’d have a bit to taste after all.

The few dishes of Elliot’s breakfast took only a few minutes. The hot chocolate on the stove was perfect, coating the back of the spoon, but not too thick. It smelled wonderful.

He ladeled the dessert into what he knew was Master’s favorite mug (a lovely dark blue ceramic) and took the pot off the heat.

He carefully carried it into the dining room. Master Ambrose looked a bit terrible. It was awful to think it, and Elliot brushed the thought away.

Master looked up at him as he approached. His red rimmed eyes glanced at the mug in his hands and then back to his nearly empty plate.

“I’m not really up for tea, love.”

“Oh. Uh, no, I, um. Made you some hot chocolate, sir.” Ambrose looked up at him again, baffled. Elliot sat the mug in front of him, suddenly nervous. What if he had completely messed up?

Ambrose wrapped his hands around the mug. He pulled it close, took a small sip, and sighed, a small smile on his face. Relief flooded through Elliot.

“Thank you, Ellie. It’s perfect.”

___________________

Ambrose went a little overboard with the amount of food he’d made for breakfast. Elliot was always up for a meal, so he offered him the leftovers. He was looking so much better now; more on the side of ‘thin’ than ‘dying of starvation’.

Elliot had been really sweet to make him hot chocolate. It did make him feel a little better.

It was nice to have Elliot around. Having someone there, even if he didn’t feel like talking about it, made everything a little more bearable.

taglist:@cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#i could really go for some biscuits and gravy right now can you tell lol #seriously though the food Ambrose and Elliot eat are literally just my cravings #lets be somft after those flashbacks #ambrose and elliot #my writing #whump #slavery whump

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