#We discussed this and we really don't want to leave you all without for so long!

[faebriel]

hgs brainrot has returned due to tbosas .. speaking of hgs here’s an ask abt the hgs au: if things were totally different, and Wilbur were to be a 12 victor, what do you think a possible mentor-tribute dynamic would look like between him & Niki? I feel like it would be similar to Snow & Lucy in the way that he’s just going out of his way to cheat n help her

anon u have in fact struck jackpot because this is a concept i was spinning some thoughts abt before bee mentioned avoxes and we went OOOOH at that!!! so yes i have considered rainduo as a mentor-tribute dynamic and would love to talk about that concept too :]

so for this concept i think wilbur and niki would be close friends throughout childhood from 12, and then in their teens wilbur is reaped and, well, no one has particularly high hopes (he's a writer and a musician at heart, not a fighter) but through sheer trickery and dumb luck, he makes it to the end of the games. wilbur pulled some pretty fucked up tricks to win - when you can't use brute force, you have to use your brain - and partly due to the trauma of the games, partly due to his shame and survivor's guilt, he sinks into the capitol and relishes a new life there as a socialite. to him, the old wilbur died in the games and the new one has taken his place - to niki, and to his other friends in 12, whatever the games did to him made him into every vapid heartless capitol victor there is.

or. niki has her doubts. they all saw how horrible the games were, but surely there is some part of him left, some part that's hurting, even if it's buried deep?

anyway.

like og spin of the au, niki is reaped and this sucks - this time she does expect wilbur as her mentor on the train, and she expects some kind of warm welcome (maybe even an apology for leaving them so suddenly and silently? an explanation?) but she gets jack shit. wilbur is jaded and cruel and unrecognisable and niki entirely hates it. this is the part where i REALLY WISH we got some time of those two beefing with each other directly in canon (or at least interactions while niki was So Mad at him) but it's okay we fly blind. niki feels abandoned, lonely, thrown off of her kilter - she expected an ally in this place, but she doesn't recognise the person wilbur has become. she doesn't recognise his shallowness (...much), his ruthless advice for the arena, the way he doesn't seem to care for anything. she's scared and now she's lonely and it pisses her off - their mentorship is fraught. here are some thoughts from discord on that:

i tend to think of niki as a bit naïve before l'manberg or even doomsday - i think this is an au where this streak would come out real strong, and niki is stubborn that she can get through the games without losing herself. stubborn that she can stop things, that she can protect people. i don't think wilbur is cold enough (or, really, can bear to say aloud) to say that her odds in the arena are slim enough as it is, but he definitely tells her that she's making enemies and that her odds of survival dwindle with the more trouble she causes.

beyond that... hm. niki's trust in wilbur is almost unshakeable until nov 16, even when she outright says she doesn't recognise him anymore. i think she'd reluctantly listen re: don't burn down any buildings, but she would grow bolder each day she had to stay in the capitol. she gets more honest in front of the cameras. she makes more friends in training, and not the ones wilbur recommends. she throws barbs at him every time he makes one of those callous, cold-hearted comments about other tributes and rankings and odds. and besides, she's going in the arena this time, not him. she needs to practice her bravery.

it's like... she hasn't given up on him. she thinks the old wilbur is in there somewhere. (she is wrong. that is not how trauma works.) but she won't hold her tongue just because she

for extra angst points could definitely play up the whole 'feeling abandoned' angle between them as niki goes into the arena - probably due to how fraught their friendship gets leading up to the games. niki wants to focus on them and their friendship, wilbur has stringently cut off (almost) everything from 12 and refuses to let her in; he tells her to behave for the cameras, she tells him she never will. i think the last point in that screenshot would also make for a super tasty argument where niki feels wilbur has gone astray, that he's abandoned 12, and that he'll probably do nothing but sit on his ass and watch her die and he can't even bring himself to care about her anymore, can he? just more fodder for the arena. and honestly, i think wilbur would passively agree with most of that - he values niki's opinion, after all, even now, and if she says he's rapidly descending into a lost cause then she must be right. and it's niki, so she will be fine, and he goes to his bedroom that night and tries to pretend he is sleeping perfectly fine instead of feeling paralysed with fear.

okay now onto the games - YES HE SO WOULD. or at least i think he would go out of his way to help. as for cheating - he's a recent victor for 12 and i think he would value tommy (no doubt a link to him... i think they'd be in touch in this au also) too much to risk the punishment falling onto him as well. i get the vibes this is a games closer to 74th than 10th, so there are far fewer opportunities to cheat and the consequences of getting caught are higher. but schmoozing up sponsors? making stupid ass radio interviews or whatever to talk up niki's odds? sharing anecdotes from their childhood - some real, some entirely fabricated - across capitol airwaves to stoke their sympathy? 100%. with less to lose in this au, i think niki would be far less inclined to play nice for the cameras - i hope you starve, she spits at one of them, and wilbur appears on a talkshow two days later as she scrambles for survival in the arena to talk up how she always saved loaves from the bakery for the poorest mothers and children in 12. he borrows and begs and swindles to the point where it feels like cheating. but hey, this new wilbur is capitol-branded. he knows how to play the game.

if anything he probably sinks into the game a little too much. self-preservation is not his forte. probably wracks up a few heavy debts and favours to owe, but those are not priority until niki is out of the arena, alive. as long as she wins, and as long as the family he has isn't in danger, he will manage. wow it would suck if at some point those two goals became impossible to co-achieve. anyway

i kind of see niki's victory in the arena being similar to the one in the main au - if only because planning out an entire games is hard for meee >-< . she walks in bolder and braver for sure, and with a less strategic pick of allies, but they all get picked off and she spends a few weeks so terrified she can barely sleep and then she ruptures some fuel line and sets the arena alight with a fire that burns brighter and more ravenously than it should. but she wins, and she's airlifted out of a filthy, muddy creek she had resigned herself to die in, and wilbur barges his way through as many peacekeepers so that he can actually see her with her burnt skin and hair and unfocused eyes and trust that what was on the screens wasn't a fluke, and that they made it. and then it's just a matter of surviving the after.

i'm sure there are some other random quirks or tidbits i can think of re: this take on a c!rainduo hunger games au but these are my base thoughts!!

[southfarthing]

what with all this talk of fanfic and ai and feeding other people's work without permission into ai programmes to 'finish' a fanfic or whatever... it's just showing how people see fic as 'content'? a fanfic as something mass-produced and official, something to consume at a distance and then talk about in a vacuum? something to use for your own purposes and something over which you have a claim?

fanfic is written by fans like you. written out of love and passion and a lot of effort and hard work, so that the author can share their enthusiasm for the characters and stories with other fans. like you. they aren't these untouchable, faceless people above you – they're your peers. gifsets, fanart, fanfic – they're all made by your peers. mutuals. friends.

if you want to know more about the fic, talk to the author! so many fic writers leave their socials in the end notes of their fics – talk to them! they're not going to be affronted or judgemental. chances are, they're going to be over the moon that you like their work and want to engage and discuss the characters and the themes etc. they made you happy with their fic, and you would be making them so happy in return! (and what does a happy writer do? write more!)

as a fic writer, I made one of my closest tumblr friends because she read my fic and left a really nice comment, and then we got talking and brainstorming loads of headcanons and fic ideas together! fic writers want to talk! if you enjoy someone's presence and contributions in a fandom, let them know!

and for the love of all that is good, don't feed someone's hard work into an ai programme!!! whether you post it (which is just horrible tbh) is beside the point – you're facilitating the plagiarism of their fic!

[orteil42]

Cookie Clicker turns 10 today! Having outlived our enemies, let us celebrate with a fresh batch of announcements!

🍪First of all, Cookie Clicker is 40% off on Steam this week! The perfect gift for your loved and/or hated ones! (the web version is still free forever but you don't get Steam achievements or music by C418!)

🍪Secondly! The mobile version has been lagging behind the browser game for years and is in dire need of an update. I've been dedicating most of my time recently to bringing its content up to par! Here's a progress report:

Compared to the current version, this update adds back 284 upgrades and 179 achievements from the web game, which leaves 83 upgrades and 94 achievements still unimplemented plus a good amount of heavenly upgrades. I am determined to close that gap!

Seasons and the pet dragon are currently partially implemented. These are complicated, compound features with side-effects in all kinds of places so once the update gets an alpha release I'll likely be needing everyone's help to hunt for bugs and oversights. I'm being as thorough as possible but there's no way I didn't forget some obscure interplay somewhere!

I'm also updating the UI! Cookie Clicker's interface makes heavy use of woodwork, which is largely absent from the mobile version; I've been aiming to bring it back. Rather than recycling desktop assets, I'm looking to push the game's visual identity towards less "plain wooden boards" and more "victorian biscuit shop" (something I'd have liked to go for when I first made the game but didn't quite know how yet). Here's some early screenshots!

I'm using Blender for the new assets, I might make a more in-depth post about my process in the future. Please note that these are experimental and I'm still fiddling with the look! Once I'm happy with it I'll ideally be giving the desktop game a similar makeover.

This update will hopefully come out later this year and will likely involve multiple rounds of alpha. Once stable, future updates will focus on adding sugar lumps and as many of the minigames as possible.

🍪Thirdly: the Makeship grandma plushie is real and we're doing a giveaway! Please read this twitter post to enter. Note that if the launch campaign succeeds we've got other plushies in mind! Maybe a wrinkler?

🍪Fourthly - there was going to be a really cool announcement here but I've been informed I'm not yet at liberty to discuss it. It's sooooo cool tho trust me. things happening. u gotta take my word for it. tune in next time

🍪Lastly:

i've got enough dough for like, idk 50 more? mom's recipe. white+dark+milk chocolate. they're very good thank you

PS. thank you for playing with us all these years! odds are some of you reading this have been here since the very start. that's mad to think about! Opti and I couldn't have done this for 10 whole years without all of you hyping us up. i want to see if we can do 10 more. get real freaky with it

[eubybubble]

slytherin boys after an argument

ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo

Theodore Nott

Realization hit him hard after a prolonged silence. The air felt thick, and he felt nauseous as he shifted his gaze from a small crack on the wall under his fist to your face. He just swallowed and left the room without a word.

He was terrified of himself, didn't he promise to never raise a hand on loved ones? Technically, he hadn’t, but it was too close. Thoughts flooded his mind as he rushed up the stairs in a desperate attempt to breathe fresh air. It wasn't surprising that he instinctively headed to the Astronomy Tower – your favorite place. Reaching the top, he stood there and retrieved the cigarette pack with trembling fingers. After hesitating, he lit one. Everything seemed to remind him of you. It was never that serious, you just wanted to help him.

Now, he felt like a total fool. Leaning against a wall and sliding down, he pondered over the the relationships. You were too sweet, he couldn't let you suffer near someone like him. With that, he set his mind on ignoring you and breaking up with you because "that'd be better for you." It seemed like you would only agree, he didn't consider any other possible answer.

In the next few days, he deliberately skipped meals and tried to ignore your questioning gaze in halls. However, you heard a slight cough from behind after the lunch.

"May we discuss something?"

"Well, if it isn't Theodore Nott! What—" he didn't let you finish.

"Let's break up." you froze, staring at him in disbelief.

"Nott, are you insane? Didn't you think to ask me?"

"I'm doing it right now."

"Really? It felt more like you just stated a fact and I can only accept it. It was really low of you to avoid me." Your eyes became shiny as tears started to accumulate involuntarily. Theodore noticed it, and despite the cold agenda he planned, he rushed towards you, wiping the tears.

"You wouldn't want to be with me," he mumbled.

"What? We could've talked! We've always talked about how important communication is, but how come we don't practice it? I know you, and I know myself; I wouldn't give up on our relationship that easily. And more than anything, I know that I want to be with you. Why would you do that to me?" you sobbed, clutching onto him as if you were afraid that if he left now, you would never see him again.

"Shush, principessa, I'm so sorry-" he didn't expect such a reaction from you. As you hid your crying face in his chest, his heartbeat only became faster. What an idiot he was for even thinking of such a thing. "I'm so sorry. For everything I've done and said. I'll work to be better for you," he rambled quietly. "Do you trust me? Are you ready to give me another try?" His voice cracked slightly as he asked the last question. You just nodded, and he chuckled at the sight. "Tesoro... I'm so sorry. I promise you it won't happen again." He gave you a forehead kiss, and he really meant it. Even though he didn't say anything about it, he decided to quit smoking. Yes, it won't be easy or a short process, but at least he found a far better addiction - you.

Tom Riddle

From the moment you saw Tom, you thought it could have worked out. At least, you hoped so. It all felt dumb. All those times when your friends told you to break up or said that he didn’t care about you - you refused to believe them. And now, it got you here when the most precious person told you were some troublesome trivia. In the past, you and Tom would at least talk during lunch or sit next to each other in Potions where he patiently helped you, but now, he skipped most lessons, and if he attended one, he’d sit alone. Everyone noticed it, and you became the target of their whispers and snickers. Some even went as far as mocking you in the halls.

“Well, if it isn’t the one Tom Riddle dumped. What, did he finally realize that you’re pathetic?” you tightened your hold on your books and tried to leave hurriedly until the blonde boy from the group shoved you into the wall. “Aren’t we talking to you? Why are you leaving so suddenly?”

It was a pretty loud encounter, so Tom, who was walking nearby, heard it and stopped in his tracks. To tell the truth, he didn’t even want to break up. He invented this silly excuse to protect you because he was afraid of his own actions. He hoped you’d be stubborn and come once again, but you didn’t. That’s when he knew he messed up, but his pride held him back from going to you. And now, someone was bullying his treasure.

But they underestimated your power. You didn’t want it to escalate into violence, but they started it first. With a swift movement of the wand, you threw them off with a big blast. Not even bothering to look behind, you paced up and bumped into someone.

“Oh.” As he put his hands on your shoulders to steady you, he eyed the unconscious group behind. “Using a spell of such power at this hour?” he mumbled nervously.

“Care to explain why you care? Get off, Riddle.” You tried to shove him away, but his grip was strong.

“What’s going on with you? I didn’t even do anything to make you that mad.” You nearly choked at these words.

“Tom.” He hesitated. “Do you think I’m that dumb to fall for your words? Move out of the way.” But he just stood there without a change.

"Don’t leave. I was just... I was afraid I’d hurt you," he whispered as he clutched onto you. "I was afraid of my own plans, of my own thoughts. But please, promise me never to leave, even if I change. I won’t hurt you, just stay by my side. I never expected to fall in love..I had everything planned ahead in a neat way, but you came in like a surprise. Yet, here we are, and it's you. There's no turning back now" You never saw Tom being so vulnerable, and you could do only nod. You cupped his face.

"Hey, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll be here," you softly reassured him, not noticing how easily he drew you right back.

Mattheo Riddle

You had hard time absorbing everything Mattheo said. It was already dark outside, but you didn’t care to turn on the light or illuminate the wand with “Lumos”. You sat on the bed and went through the box with a glossy eyes. You couldn’t believe that he saved every gift, every letter, note - even those that you gave him before dating. Quiet sobs escaped your chest upon finding the promise ring at the very top. Why does it feel so awful when you believed you made the right choice?

As if on cue, your roommate entered the dorm room. "Hey, look what everyone’s talking about in school- oh, are you okay?" She turned on the lights and noticed your teary face. Quickly wiping everything away, you pretended to be busy, gathering everything back into the box. "Yeah, my eyes are sore from reading in the dark," a lame excuse, "what were you gonna tell?"

She knew you disliked having your privacy intruded upon. "So, three students were caught for an outrageous duel and a series of mobbings in Hogsmeade! Surprisingly, it was two Gryffindor students and one Hufflepuff. That fits into the ‘don't judge a book by its cover' narrative. I wonder when the stereotypes about the houses will end. Remember when everyone didn't doubt that it was Slytherin?" she sighed.

As if it weren't enough of a heartbreak, you discovered that everything you had ever suspected Mattheo of was all filthy lies and gossip. Suddenly, you felt dizzy.

You didn’t care about decency or dignity as you rushed to Mattheo’s dorm. He, too, was struggling. Despite everything, he regretted speaking harshly and leaving the memory box. What if you never returned and tossed it away? His heart clenched at the thought.

Feeling too irritated and unwilling to join others in the common room for a card game, he was all alone for now. In futile attempts to fall asleep, he heard a light knock on the door.

"Who’s that?" he groaned, too lazy to open the door.

"Hey, can we talk?" His muscles tensed upon hearing that familiar voice. Rushing to the door, he unlocked it immediately. "Oh, hi," you blushed and stopped mid-sentence, staring at his torso. He glanced down, realizing he forgot to put his shirt on.

"Shit. Sorry, one second," he shut the door in embarrassment and put on a random sweater. "What do you want?" he still held a grudge against you.

"I wanna... apologize. You have every right to shut the door, but I wanted to tell you that our relationship isn’t a joke to me. I love everything about you. I was just so stupid to believe all the gossips floating around Hogwarts, but that doesn’t matter. I came here to tell you how insane you make me feel. I mean, these days when I tried to collect my thoughts and was avoiding you, I was thinking of you non-stop. Mattheo, I’d fight the world to be by your side." As you rambled on and on, his gaze softened, and he pulled you by the waist.

"That’s my girl. I felt terrible when you acted the way you acted, but I hope it won’t be the same in the future?... I also apologize for saying unnecessary things."

"That’s okay, you had every right to be mad. What about I’ll order the food and we’ll watch a movie?"

“Gladly” he was grinning now. It wasn't necessary to tell him that you were also ordering a new broomstick, the perfect one for the perfect boy to make it up. It was the least you could do now. As you scrolled through the list of new films, Mattheo coughed.

"So, uh, can I get my box back, please? You didn’t go through it, right?" a light blush covered his face.

“Actually, I did, Matty. I didn’t know you are so sweet” he groaned at this comment “but I’ll return it to you. Sure.”

Lorenzo Berkshire

The moment Lorenzo received his numerology exam back, he couldn't believe the mark he saw. 70, satisfactory. Many would pray for such a grade, but he had studied and sacrificed too much for this.

As he walked to breakfast, he scanned the Great Hall but couldn't spot you. The previous day's argument flared up in his memory, and he wrinkled his nose as he sat down to eat. As predicted, a white owl sat on his shoulder, delivering a letter with Berkshire's family logo.

He run his eyes over the text. “disgrace..wasting time..bad influence” and blah blah blah. Nothing’s new, except the threat that ordered him not to come home until he got back on the track academically. He's been following his parents' wishes for too long; he was too afraid to ruin the perfect son image that he completely lost hold of his priorities.

Oh, how he wished to be in your embrace now, to listen to your soothing voice and nuzzle up to you in the dark. But he ruined it single-handedly.

He stood up and went to lessons, scratching an apology note for you in the meantime. At DADA, the only class you two took together, he tried to sit next to you and apologize, but that place was taken by a Hufflepuff girl, to which he could only frown. Throughout the lesson, you felt his gaze on you, but never once did you turn your head back at him. If he needed a break that much, he could get one. After all, you got tired of constantly begging him to relax and spend time with you and felt like a total fool.

After the lessons ended, you were the first one to leave the classroom, but he's not an idiot either. You felt someone gently taking hold of your wrists and pushing you into the empty classroom. The door closed behind.

"Can we talk and communicate like grown-ups?" Lorenzo inquired.

"You said everything you wanted last time. I have to go, Hermione's waiting for me in the library," you blatantly lied.

"Oh, really? Because when I last talked to Hermione, she told me she would be with Ron," he calmly stated, stepping closer. "I don't really remember things I've said, but-" You didn't let him finish.

“Enzo, you needed break and I’m giving it to you” his jaws tightened in frustration at your unwavering stance. “You told me I was a burden and you know what? I think you were right because lately, that’s what I felt like in relationships with you. It’s like I’m begging you to spend time with me. Maybe it's best to return to being friends” you mumbled. But he just shook his head, moving nearer once more until he stood right in front of you.

"I'm sorry I made you feel this way. It's not an excuse for my behavior, but I've been stressing about..something," he sighed. "You don't deserve to be treated like that, but trust me, I'll be better." He gently reached out for your arm. "I need just another chance. The only one. I've already written back to my parents, and I hope they will get off my back. I've also told them about us," his voice got quieter. "I hope you won't mind." Your breath hitched. He had always been postponing this, even if you wished for it. There was a minute of silence and apprehension before he wrapped you in a hug. "I hope you can forgive me, sweetheart. How about we go to the cafe you like this weekend?" he mumbled, peppering your face with kisses.

a/n: I apologize if it's not the way you imagined, but hey, I tried my best. Also, I think they were super careful and sweet afterwards!

taglist: @lilanxietysstuff @nopedefe @marina468

[rainyyynightssss]

Twisted Wonderland

Reacting to you having trouble with other students

Characters: Trey, Jade, Floyd, Rook

Notes: Some violence

Trey Clover

You sit next to Trey at a library table, shoulders brushing up against each other as you both look at the textbooks splayed across the surface. You had been having trouble some of your classwork and it seemed harder than usual since you come from a world without magic. Trey, noticing your struggles, offered to help you study which was a compromise since you first asked to copy his notes.

You've been trying to focus on the notes and tips he's giving you instead of the lingering touches as he directs your hand to the next page, or the small praises he gives you after getting a question right, or his soft breath on your cheek as he leans close to check your work. No, you've been diligently studying and not feeling any kind of heat in your face.

"And what about this one?" Trey asks as he taps his finger on the open page in the textbook. You look down at the words and think for a moment.

"Um..so sublimation is...turning solids into gas...without having to go through the liquid phase?" You half-guess. Trey smiles and hands you another chocolate covered candy that he had called 'motivation'.

"Right again. You're better at this than you think." He says as he flips the pages over to the next question. You sigh and rest your face on your hand.

"I really should be compensated for all this trouble." You mention.

"The trouble of doing your work?" Trey chuckles, "I can whip something up for you later. Your favorite, of course." He winks.

Just as you're about to launch into a discussion about your favorite dessert, something hard is knocked into the back of your head. You whip around and find a couple of Heartslabyul boys passing behind you. One of them is holding a heavy book and smirking while the other two try to hide their snickers behind their hands.

You have no idea what you could have done to these boys. Sometimes just breathing was enough to piss off students at Night Raven College.

"Whoops. Wasn't paying attention." One of the boys says flippantly as he shifts the book to his other arm, nearly smacking you again. You rub the back of your head, ready to tell them off when one of them eyes the bag of candies on the table.

"Oh, Trey! Can we have some? Please!" The boy begs and his friends follow suit. Trey stares at them with a blank look for a few moments before smiling.

"Sure. Here you go," He hands them a handful of the chocolate candies each, "They taste better if you eat them all at once."

The Heartslabyul boys run off after receiving the candy without a thank you or an apology. You narrow your eyes at Trey.

"Awfully kind of you to give candy to my assailants." You sigh dramatically but Trey shakes his head.

"Something tells me they won't be enjoying this treat." He smiles again.

Suddenly, across the room, you can hear a chorus of "ewwww"'s followed by some coughing and gagging. You gape and turn back towards Trey.

"What did you change the taste to?" You ask in interest but he merely winks at you.

"I have no clue. It's just supposed to be chocolate." He responds innocently. His smile turns into a frown as he gently rubs the back of your head where you were hit.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more. Though if it's any consolation, Riddle will probably deal with them after he finds out just how severe their lack of manners are." Trey offers.

You think his caresses on your head like you're something that needs care is consolation enough. But you don't say that, instead leaving your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. Trey closes the textbooks and wraps an arm around your waist, done with studying for today but he didn't need an excuse to want to hang out with you.

Jade Leech

You finish taking a couple's order down on the notepad Azul provided to you and walk back towards the kitchen. You've been taking a couple shifts at the Mostro Lounge in order to pay off some of the damage Grim has caused by being...everywhere. Azul was benevolent enough to take you in and you just managed to slip through signing a contract with him, much to his chagrin.

Jade took on the responsibility of showing you the ropes, a little too eagerly which you found suspicious. He did tell you everything there is to know about serving and walked you through it. He didn't get irritated after you accidentally dropped a dish or forgot to add an appetizer a table ordered. Or at least you assumed he didn't since his smile never changed. Though you did notice that waiters who messed up one too many times were taken to the back by Jade. You hope that'll never happen to you.

You pass by Jade as he carries an abnormal amount of plates on his arms towards a table. He nods at you with his smile, not a hint of strain on his face.

"You have a new group at table 13. They can get a bit unruly so I'll-" Jade starts but you take the plates containing drinks off his hand.

"No, I got it! Thanks, Jade!" You tell him before dashing off to table 13. While you are definitely in this for the money, you also couldn't help but want to impress Jade and show him that his training was not in vain.

As you approach the table, you can already hear the group of boys chatting and laughing. You set the drinks down and give them a smile, readying your notepad.

"Are you guys ready to order or do you need more time?" You ask.

"What does it look like?" A blondie responds dryly. The rest of the boys stare at you like they're wondering if you passed elementary school.

"That you're...ready?" You guess awkwardly. The blondie rolls his eyes and the rest scoff, their assumptions about your schooling seemingly confirmed.

"Obviously we need more time." Another says and you nod, turning around to leave.

"I'll be back soon then-"

"Where are you going? We're ready to order." You turn back around to find the blondie smirking. Your hands tighten on your notepad and you fight to keep your smile. How did Jade do this all the time?

"What can I get for you?" You keep your eyes focused on the notepad, hoping that will lower your irritation.

"Can I get...uh..." You listen to one of them mumbling before a loud yelp is heard. You look over to see Jade gripping the wrist of the blondie who is frozen in fear and wincing. His grip is so tight that the boy's hand is turning white. You also find that the hand being gripped is dangerously close to touching your bottom.

"Harassing waiters in our lounge is strictly against our policy. I'll have to ask you to leave." Jade says, still smiling as ever. Though this time, you could see the strain in him, not from fatigue but something more lethal.

"I-I wasn't-" The boy tries to plead but Jade only tightens his grip.

"Wasn't trying to touch them? Well, security cameras will be the judge of that." Jade responds and the boy breathes a little easier.

"And so will I." Jade adds before snapping the wrist of the blondie, causing him to scream in pain. The boy flies out of the booth and stumbles towards the exit, crying as he holds his flailing wrist. Jade turns back towards the group.

He doesn't have to say a word since the other boys quickly sprint out of the lounge. You look between the exit and Jade in shock.

"Uh, well, thanks, I think. That might've been a bit excessive..." You trail off and Jade merely wipes a spot on your shoulder one of the fleeing boys must have brushed past.

"Are you alright? You can take a break in the back. Azul does time them though." He tells you and you shake your head with a smile.

"I'm alright. I only have half an hour left anyways. Hopefully those guys won't be back." You eye the exit but Jade takes your arm and leads you to you next table.

"They have an incentive not to. And if they do," He leans down close enough so that you could see the sharp edges of his teeth, "You'll tell me, won't you?"

Floyd Leech

You sit at your desk in Professor Trein's class, listening to him drone on as you take down notes. You always tried hard to pay focus in classes, which annoyed a certain eel sitting right behind you. He often pestered you in this class and you wondered why he didn't have anything better to do, like pay attention.

As Trein turns around to write something on the board, something soft and crinkly hits the back of your head. You look behind you to see Floyd grinning and pointing at the floor. You roll your eyes as you see a crumpled up paper on the ground. Curiosity got the best of you and you open up the paper.

Bored??? I am! Let's ditch!

You write a big, fat NO over his words on the paper and throw it back at him. Trein faces the class again to lecture and you can practically feel Floyd's dramatic sigh as he flops back in his chair.

"Can I see your notes?" Your seatmate asks you as he peers over at your notebook. You scoot your notes closer to you. Just last week, your seatmate had 'accidentally' tripped you while you were walking up to the board.

"Haven't you been taking your own?" You mutter.

"Yeah, but I wanna see yours." The boy starts tugging on your notebook and you try to pull it back.

"No, would you let go?" You hiss as you try to keep hold of your notes. The boy grabs your wrist to try and pull your hand off but he freezes as a looming shadow falls behind him.

"Wanna use my notes? I've got plenty." Floyd grins, all teeth.

The boy stammers, unable to say anything. Floyd grabs his hair and yanks his head back, staring straight down at him.

"Can't hear me? Should I talk louder?" Floyd asks with a giggle as he pulls on the boy's hair harder.

"Leech!" Trein reprimands. Floyd huffs and lets the boy's hair go, sending him reeling into his desk. You glance back at Floyd.

"You didn't actually take any notes, did you?" You ask.

"Sure I did." Floyd hands you his notebook. There's a couple of bullet points about a new takoyaki recipe he wants to try. He also added some doodles of an eel and a tiny shrimp.

Rook Hunt

You sigh as you write your woes down into a journal you started keeping a couple months ago. A group of Pomefiore boys have been bothering you for a while. They constantly put down your looks, calling it critique without giving any helpful tips nor was any of it even asked for. Even when you tried to avoid them on your way to see the vice housewarden, they still managed to corner you every now and then.

You finish writing and toss your notebook on your desk that sits right under your window. You think things may be better tomorrow as you rest your head on your pillow.

***

You head down the path towards the illustrious path that houses the Pomefiore students. Rook had messaged you in the morning, urging you to come by and see a "most beauté activity". You have no idea what this entails but it might be worth checking out.

You find Rook in a grass clearing just behind the dorms. He has his fingers in a square shape as he gazes at something in the distance. He sees you and gasps in surprise, grabbing both of your hands in his.

"Mon lumière! I'm overjoyed that you've accepted my invitation!" Rook spins you around.

"I can tell," You laugh a little, "What's this activity though?"

"I'm glad you asked! You see, I've been wanting to sharpen up my archery skills. The art of the bow and arrow is simply dur mais juste." Rook tells you.

"And you remember I mentioned wanting to watch?" You guess.

"Exactement! I already have the targets set up and all you have to do for now is watch." Rook takes you further down the clearing and your eyes widen in horror. The Pomefiore boys that have been bothering you were tied up to a row of trees, their mouths gagged and a juicy, red apple sits precariously on each of their heads.

"...What is this?" You ask hesitantly.

"Like I said, mon lumière, target practice! Now stand behind me and watch as I pull the drawstring..." Rook's eyes are hyper focused as he points an arrow at one of the boys whose screams are muffled behind the rope.

"Rook, there is something very wrong here!" You shout in concern. He releases the tension in the bow and points the arrow at the ground. He stares at you for a moment before lighting up again.

"You're right! You should be the one pulling the arrow. Such an eye for beauty you have." Rook sighs happily as he stands behind you and places the bow and arrow in your hands. They shake unsteadily as you hold them. There was no way you were going to be able to hit the apples.

"Rook, this isn't-" You gasp as he uses your hands to pull the drawstring and the arrow shoots forward. You squeeze your eyes shut and hear the sound of four consecutive hits.

You slowly open your eyes and see four arrows perfectly shot in the middle of each apple, no doubt due to magical intervention. The group of boys sob in fear, not realizing it wasn't their heads that got hit.

You take a deep breath and look behind you at Rook who seems as pleased as ever.

"Did you know those guys have been bothering me?" You ask with narrowed eyes.

"How would I know that?" Rook responds with a smile.

"So you just happened to pick them out?"

"I needed targets. Who better than those who can't appreciate true beauté?"

You'll be moving your journal to a more secure location.

[unreliablesnake]

Surprises (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: Price finds out at a family gathering that his favorite niece's new boyfriend is none other than Ghost. The lieutenant thinks he's in trouble. How bad can things be?

Note: A little fluff and angst. What do you think? / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Simon knew he fucked up the moment he realized you were Price's niece.

The very niece he babysat several times when you were little, the one he talked so much about whenever they were discussing family. He loved you, he was proud of you, and despite you now being an independent young woman, he still treated you as if you were an expensive and rare piece of jewelry that had to be locked away.

So yes, when he attended a family event you invited him to and met the captain there, he knew he was in trouble. You had talked about your Uncle John before, sure, even joked about the two of them possibly knowing each other, but not even in his wildest dream could he suspect the two men being the same.

And now he was sitting there across from him at the long picnic table in the garden, his blue eyes piercing through his skull. Every time you intertwined your fingers with his on top of the table or leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek, he could almost hear the annoyed groan leave his lips.

You suddenly rested your head on his shoulder, smiling sweetly when he looked down at you. He couldn't help himself, he just followed his instincts when he leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of your head. That move made the captain snap.

"Simon, why don't you help me bring out some nice, cold drinks?"

He gulped before nodding, his entire body suddenly going rigid from the terror he felt. "Hey, he barks, but doesn't bite. You'll be fine," you assured him as you kissed his shoulder through his shirt.

With a sigh, he stood up and followed Price into the kitchen, carefully closing the door after himself. "Look, Cap, I didn't know she was your niece. I'm sorry. But trust me, I'm serious about this relationship. I really like her," he began to explain the situation without hesitation.

But Price didn't seem interested in his excuses as he was quick to raise a hand to stop him. "I don't care, Simon. She likes you too, it's obvious and she told me before, I just don't want her to suffer if…"

If he dies on the field. That's what he wanted to say, he knew that. Nodding, he leaned against the kitchen island and folded his arms over his chest. The two of them stood there in silence for a while, trying to figure out what to do now. Simon understood why Price was so worried about this relationship, but he also had to understand that he wasn't about to give you up.

"Would you be happier if she was dating a civilian? Some loser who doesn't even know what he wants to do with his life?" he asked to break the silence.

Price drew in a sharp breath that he let out while running a hand through his hair. It was easy to tell he was dying to light a cigar, but his sister had a strict no smoking in the house rule. So he settled with the second best option and began pacing in front of him.

"You, as a person, are not the problem, Simon," he began. "You're a good man, I know that. The problem is our line of work. And the fact I'm your higher-up, and now I have to think about you not only as my right hand, but also as the boyfriend of my favorite niece. Every time I send you somewhere dangerous, I'll have to consider how she would react if something happened to you."

With a loud gulp, Simon considered his reasoning. He was right. Everything he said was understandable. "If you think it would be better if we broke up, just say it," he told him eventually.

There was no response for a while, they stood there in silence once again. But then Price shook his head and extended his hand. "Just make her happy, that's all I'm asking for," he said with a smile. "And don't tell her that we know each other. I don't want her to worry."

Hesitantly, but Simon shook his hand. He had no idea what made the captain change his mind, but he didn't have an issue with that as long as he was okay with him being with you. He then opened the fridge and began to put a selection of drinks on the counter next to it.

Once they made it back to the family, you immediately gave him a worried look, silently asking for a story he wasn't about to give you. So he lied like Price had just asked him to do, even if it hurt like hell.

"Everything's fine, he just wanted to get to know me," he told you with a smile before giving you a quick kiss. "We're good."

"Sure?" you asked with a suspicious look on your face. Simon nodded. "All right, if you say so. I'm glad he likes you," you noted with a smile on your lips.

Before he could say anything, Price raised a hand. "If I might add, you chose well, kiddo," he said with a smile before flashing a smile at the lieutenant.

"I know," you said with a triumphant smile before giving Simon a kiss.

[cobragardens]

Notes on the Scene in Job's Basement

Crowley is not tempting Aziraphale here. He's experimenting on him.

Getting Aziraphale to sin, or even getting him drunk, is not Crowley's intent in this scene. Eating food, taking pleasure in food, drinking alcohol, and even being drunk are not sins in most of Judaism or Christianity (and they're certainly not sins in British Christianity, regardless of any church's doctrine). When Aziraphale turns down alcohol, Crowley just suggests he try food instead; so it's not important to Crowley what Aziraphale tries, but it is important to him that he try something.

This scene is also the first time (chronologically) we see that Crowley likes to drink and likes to be drunk.

We know from

and from

as well as from Book Omens and Word of God that angels have no instinct beyond curiosity pulling them toward eating or toward gender. From this we can reasonably presume they have no instinct toward Beverages either.

That means that in this moment--

--Crowley is very likely the only metaphysical entity he knows on either side of the divide, or even knows of, who has ever experienced a physical pleasure.

And he probably has some Lingering Questions about it, like we all did the first time a physical pleasure blew our minds. Like,

Is it this strong for everyone?

Is there something wrong with me?

Am I going to hurt myself if I do this, like, a lot?

And it's not like the poor creature can ask anyone, because the answers for humans aren't necessarily going to apply to him.

So when he sees an opportunity, Crowley gets that one angel he knows who'll talk to him to try a human thing, and then he watches to see if physical pleasure hits the angel as hard as it hit him.

And that's why he looks so creepily pleased when it does.

Apparently it is this strong for everyone and there isn't anything wrong with him. Now he can relax and get sloshed without worrying, and he even has someone to talk to about how rad human stuff is.

A Dip Into Speculation

We know because we're shown this isn't the first time Crowley has gotten drunk that, watching Aziraphale, Crowley understands what he's seeing. I think it's really interesting that Crowley doesn't laugh at Aziraphale at any point during this scene, and he doesn't correct the way he's eating, either.

Maybe it's because this is what it was like for Crowley the first time. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and woke up in a puddle of his own sick. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and didn't wake up at all, and there was Paperwork and he had to get used to a whole new corporation just when he'd got the hang of having legs in the old one. Maybe somebody had to show him how to use a fork or whatever they had going on for eating utensils in Ancient Mesopotamia. I distinctly remember having to learn as a small child to chew with my mouth closed. There is every possibility Crowley doesn't consider the way Aziraphale is eating to be worthy of ridicule because whatever Crowley did the first time was worse.

Maybe he wants to leave Aziraphale set up for later embarrassment over his table manners. Aziraphale was a judgy bitch about the wine.

Or maybe it's something like Let him have this one. There can be rules to it later; let him just enjoy it, once, like a little kid with both fists in their birthday cake.

Maybe it's desire. There is some textual evidence for this. Once Aziraphale learns to eat properly, the way he does it is very attractive, and we know Crowley loves watching him do it.

I don't think it's overreaching even to interpret David Tennant's physical performance of Crowley watching Aziraphale eat as one of sensual or erotic pleasure. I mean--

I'm not saying it absolutely has to be erotic, but it's not a reach, or even a full extension of the elbow, to read it that way.

There's another meta somewhere [I'll link it when I find it again; if you know this meta, please drop it in comments!] that discusses how this exchange in Job's basement is filmed like an erotic scene.

Like Crowley, we all want to kiss this face.

Aziraphale isn't eating prettily, but he's eating lewdly, ravenously, desirously, and it's lit like romantic sex, not like gluttony. Whether that's funny or poignant or hot may depend on the viewer. Here's how Crowley's handling it:

Srs tho, any frame of this scene could have been painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

Or maybe--and this is my favorite of the available interpretations--maybe this is what it was like for Crowley the first time and he doesn't interfere because he wants Aziraphale to come out of this as someone who's had the same experience Crowley's had so Crowley won't be so totally alone in having had it.

[mcflymemes]

"TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON" PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue for demanding answers, adjust as necessary

say it again, slower this time.

i don't have much time to explain, but i'll try.

you need to tell me what's going on.

i can't help you if i don't know what's happening.

you said something earlier, but i think i missed it.

i'm not hiding anything. i'm just trying to protect you.

what were you trying to say to me?

there must be more to the story than this.

you're not telling me the full story. you're leaving things out.

why do you have to be so secretive about this?

i wish i could tell you the truth. i really do.

why can't we discuss this now?

what's preventing you from telling me the truth?

you know what happened, yet you're just going to keep it from me.

don't i have a right to know?

i'll never forgive you if you keep this from me.

you're just going to have to find out for yourself.

don't leave me in the dark.

since you don't want to tell me, you leave me no choice.

i want you to talk to me, tell me what happened.

i don't like it when you're evasive.

you're hiding something.

all right, i'll tell you what i know.

you have to promise to take this with a grain of salt.

if i could tell you the truth, i would.

some things are better left unsaid.

you wouldn't believe me if i told you.

i don't know the truth.

i can't remember what they told me.

the last time i tried to explain it, you laughed in my face.

there's no getting through to you, is there?

tell me what's happening. tell me what's going on.

i can't do anything without your information.

you're the only one who knows how to fix this.

there's always something more, isn't there?

what else did they tell you?

what did they whisper to you when you were leaving?

you're keeping something from me.

you've never been a good liar.

look into my eyes and tell me the truth.

i wish you would just be honest with me.

something happened, and i'm going to get to the bottom of it.

if you won't tell me, i'll find someone who will.

that doesn't help me, you know.

you could try to be a little more helpful.

you never answered my question.

were you ever going to tell me the truth?

i'd like you to be honest for once in your life.

if you really loved me, you'd tell me what happened.

i won't judge you. i just need to know what happened.

just let me warn you... you're not going to like what you hear.

[john-get-the-salt]

Packed Lunch (w/spencer reid)

Imagine: One morning Spence is in a rush to leave for work and forgets his lunch. You know he gets cranky when he gets hungry, so that only leaves one option.

Contains: secret relationship becoming not so secret anymore, funny Rossi, cute domestic Reid

It'd been exactly 39 minutes since Spencer left for work and you hadn't moved a muscle, standing and glaring at the bag sitting on the counter. It wasn't that the bag itself had offended you, as it was in fact just a harmless brown paper bag. What did offend you, was that it wasn't with Spencer like it should be. The packed lunch was no good if Spencer didn't pack it with him to work.

He'd been in such a rush leaving that morning that he zipped out the door without it. Whenever he stayed the night at your place you made sure to pack him a lunch, knowing that he wasn’t always the best at caring for himself.

Forgetting to bring lunch wasn't usually a big deal for most people. You knew that the federal building where he worked had a cafeteria.

But this was Spencer Reid you were talking about. And Spence hated the cafeteria food. On the occasion he forgot his lunch he'd just go the entire day living off coffee and whatever snacks were hidden in his desk. Then he’d go back to either his apartment or yours, starving and with a nasty headache.

This meant without his lunch he would most likely not be eating today. And as you thought about how stressed and overworked he'd been lately, that did not sit well with you.

So it was decided. You would drop his food off.

He was just in the office for the day as far as you knew, so you were moderately sure you could just leave it with the front desk or something and have them take it up to him.

The two of you had been dating for several months but agreed to keep it secret from his coworkers for now. Spencer was adamant that in his line of work he could never have any secrets, and for once he wanted to have something all to himself. You couldn't even begin to understand how he did what he did, so that was an easy request to grant.

You had since then discussed telling his co-workers about your relationship as you two became more serious, but the right time hadn't come up yet. Plus it made you giggle when he told you the tales of his co-workers trying to set him up or making fun of his lack of romantic life.

This all meant you couldn't just stroll into the building and announce to everyone that you were dropping food off for your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. You would need to quickly and discretely drop the food off and then be gone without a trace.

No harm in that at all. Right?

You quickly got dressed and grabbed the lunch. Living within walking distance of the BAU headquarters was extremely handy, especially today. It was a nice day and you enjoyed the weather as you walked.

It only took about 15 minutes before you were pulling the doors to the government building open, immediately being hit with a rush of cool air. The inside was full of people who looked like they really meant business in their fancy suits and stern faces. You sudden felt self conscious in your normal ‘civilian’ attire, and scurried up to the front desk to get this over with.

The lady at the front desk seemed disinterested, and barely looked up when you stopped in front of her.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, yes. I was hoping I could drop off this food for my boyfriend. He works here and forgot it this morning and he always gets cranky when he's hungry and-"

"Ma'am we don't deliver food."

"I know I just-he's going to be hungry and I can tell you what department he works for and maybe someone could run it up to him real quick."

She pulled open a binder from her desk, sighing heavily. "Can I get his name and your name?"

"Oh, um, his name is Spencer Reid, and mine is but I don't work here I'm-"

"Here. You're already a registered visitor."

She handed you a clip on badge with Visitor printed on it in big bold letters. "Give that to security, then elevators are to the left and there's a directory on the wall. Have a good day."

Before you could even argue she was dismissing you and addressing the person in line behind you. So you forced your feet to move and head towards security. You felt like a fraud walking amongst agents and other government workers, and you kept your gaze down to avoid eye contact. After your purse got checked and your visitor badge got scanned you shuffled to the elevators.

You paused in front of the directory on the wall, squinting at the dozens of names listed. Where the fuck was the BAU?

You must've looked as confused as you felt, as someone stopped beside you.

“Ma'am? Do you need help finding something?"

You turned towards the voice, coming face to face with a kind-looking older man.

"Oh! I do actually, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course, what department are you looking for?"

"Um, the BAU?"

"Well I can definitely help you there."

He pressed the elevator button and the two of you waited for a moment before the doors opened and the elevator emptied. He gestured forward and you gave him an appreciative smile before stepping in. He followed along with a few other people. It remained quiet as the elevator rose and stopped at occasional floors, people getting in and out.

Eventually it stopped at floor 6 (totally making this up idk) and the man announced this was the stop.

You followed him off the elevator and onto a floor that was still busy, but nearly as much as the lobby. Straight ahead, down a little hall, were a set of glass doors with BAU printed on the front. You chewed on your lip as you stared the door down, contemplating.

How were you going to casually drop Spence's lunch off without creating suspicion? You couldn't exactly just walk right in and hand it to him without people questioning who you were.

"Can I help you find anyone in particular?"

"Oh no that's okay, you've helped plenty. I don't want to keep you from your business."

"Please, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't help?"

This was so not the plan. But what other option did you have? You hadn't accounted for this scenario, you were positive you wouldn't make it past the front desk. But now here you were, and you needed to make sure this food got to Spence. Plus it probably wasn't smart to aimlessly wander around an FBI building. With your luck someone would think you were a terrorist or something. And you were not a terrorist.

"I didn't think you were, but my confidence in that is now wavering."

Oh my god. You said that last part out loud. To an FBI agent.

“Oh god I’m so sorry, I did not mean to say that out loud. I swear I’m not a terrorist. I have this terrible habit of saying dumb things when I’m nervous.”

Could this get any worse? All you wanted to do was drop your boyfriends lunch off and now you were talking about terrorism with an FBI agent.

To your relief, the man just chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve heard plenty worse. Now who are you looking for?”

At this point you were ready for the earth to just swallow you whole and you were deeply regretting ever leaving the apartment.

“Spencer Reid,” you said simply as you held up the bag in hand. “I have his lunch.”

“Spencer? He’s just through these glass doors, follow me.”

At this point, you didn’t care who saw you. You didn’t care that it sounded like this man knew Spence, and may or may not think you are a terrorist.

You just wanted fo give Spence his lunch and get the fuck out of dodge.

Following the stranger through the glass doors, you found yourself in a much quieter area. The entrance led out onto a catwalk from where you could see clusters of desks below you and a little coffee bar against the wall.

"I'll just set the lunch over here-"

"(Y/N)?"

You looked up at the voice and found your boyfriend standing below you at a desk, a concerned look on his face. He left the group of people he was standing with and jogged up the steps towards you.

"Hey, is everything ok? Did something happen? Are you ok?" His eyes were wide with concern, words coming out fast as he glanced over you. His hands automatically reached for yours, something the two of you did without thought.

"I'm fine, my love. You just forgot your lunch," you held up the paper bag. "I tried to drop it off at the front desk but the lady just gave me this pass and told me to bring it up. Then I almost got lost but this nice guy stopped and helped but I was so nervous I accidentally said something about terrorism and I know I shouldn't drop by unannounced but I also know how cranky you get when you're hungry and I-"

"(Y/n)," he cut your anxious rambling off, smiling in relief that everything was ok. "Thank you."

You smiled back up at him, relieved he wasn’t upset. "You're quite welcome. And I must say I feel so official with my badge even though I absolutely do not belong here."

He laughed. "I think you fit right in."

"Well I-"

"Reid?"

You both froze and became suddenly re-aware of the current setting. You looked up at your boyfriend with wide, worried eyes.

Spencer sighed, though that dopey smile of his remained on his face. "I think our secret is out."

He intertwined his hand in yours and together you turned towards the voice. Standing with varying looks of confusion and smugness were a group of people you recognized as his co-workers.

"Who's this?"

Spencer cleared his throat. "Um, guys this is… my girlfriend."

You gave a hesitant wave, trying not to shrink under the intimidating gazes. The office was quiet for a moment, before someone else burst into the room

"Did Reid just say girlfriend?!"

"That's correct, babygirl," one of them spoke up. "Pretty boys got himself a girlfriend."

The blonde gasped, before rushing forward and grabbing you into a hug.

"It is SO nice to meet you!"

You laughed as you hugged her back.

“It's lovely to meet you too, Penelope. All of you.”

She released you and you turned towards the rest of the team.

“Spence is always showing me pictures and talking about you guys, I hope you understand us wanting to keep it quiet for a while. But I've been really looking forward to meeting you."

A man with a stern look in his eye stepped forward, holding out a hand. "Aaron Hotchner," his eyes seemed to soften as you shook his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

That broke the rest of the team out of this trance and they all gathered forward to formally introduce themselves. You shook everyone's hands and giggled as they ogled at the fact that Spencer had caught himself a girlfriend.

You learned, with a laugh, that the man who'd helped you find your way was in fact David Rossi, one of Spence's coworkers. I’m your anxious mess you hadn’t recognized the man.

You explain to everyone that you were just dropping off Spencer's lunch, but you weren't getting away that easily.

Penelope and JJ convinced you to stay, and you all spent the lunch break sitting around a conference table chatting. Hearing stories about Spence on the job had you cry laughing and you happily indulged his friends in some stories of your own.

The entire time Spencer kept a tight hold of your hand, smile never wavering as he watched his favorite people laugh together.

His family.

[wolfiesmoon]

Bakery

Leona x gn!reader

ok but can we feel the love tonight tho

i learned something new recently and i want to put this knowledge to good use (smirks evilly at leona)

also i am sick asf right now so i apologise if this is sloppily proofread

It seems like being Leona's pillow has become a part of your daily at this point. It's become an unspoken routine for you.

Usually, he'd sleep anywhere but he had to adapt his sleeping habits a little because of you. Turns out most people don't find the floor of the greenhouse a comfortable napping spot.

Usually, the perfect spot is your room in Ramshackle dorm. It's quiet and empty, save for the pesky ghosts that interrupt the two of you sometimes. It makes for the perfect hiding place when Ruggie is bothering him with some stupid papers he needs to solve for potionology, too.

All in all, worth the walk to the dorm. Especially since he gets to see you and feel your warmth without fail.

You were already waiting for him on your bed, busying yourself with scrolling through your Magicam feed. Usually, you keep a few textbooks for studying with you, but exams have mostly concluded for now. You know once Leona attaches onto you, you're not going to be able to leave for atleast 2 hours, so it's always great to prepare in advance.

Sure enough, you heard familiar footsteps getting closer and the door opened to reveal your sleepy lover. His tail swished when he caught sight of you. What a lovely sight, indeed.

"Hey Leona, had a good day?" you ask casually and he sighs in response, mumbling something about being tired. Well, that's just the usual, isn't it?

He climbs up on the bed and you smile at his sleepy expression. He's so cute when he's sleepy, but you probably shouldn't tell him that unless you want to get glared at.

Instead of crashing on top of you like you're used to, though, he places his hands on your belly, still sitting at your side. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't even meet your eyes.

Suddenly, his hands start moving in a kneading motion. A surprise massage? Not that you mind it, but that's highly unusual coming from Leona of all people. If anything, it should be the other way around.

"Leona..?" you question, trying to get a good look at his face. You can't really see it well because of the hair that fell to the side of his face. But from what little you can see, he seems to be in sort of a trance right now. His eyes are barely opened and he's wearing a little satisfied smile on his face. He doesn't respond to you at all.

"Leona?" you try again, a little firmer this time. He suddenly stops, probably finally coming back to his senses. You can see the way his eyes widen for a moment before he falls down on top of you without a word, wrapping his arms around you. Now you can't see his face at all, unable to read his expression.

"Leona, what was that?" you hugged him back, still a bit dumbfounded. You weren't going to lie though, that felt really nice.

"Don't ever bring this up again." Leona did not seem in the mood to discuss what just happened any further. He could have sworn he left that behaviour behind as a toddler. How embarrasing.

He's kind of worried now. That's how much you affect him.

"Oh... uh, okay." you pet the back of his head lovingly. Hmmm... now that you think of it, Grim does the same thing sometimes. The common denominator with Grim and Leona is that they're both cats, atleast somewhat.

If you apply this knowledge to what you know about cats in general... Oh, Leona, that silly goose. Seems he's a bit embarrased about kneading on you. You wonder if it was pure instinct.

yep, turns out the big kitties knead too, ain't that just a testament to the tried and true saying "cat is cat"

[strangersteddierthings]

I love a good S3 Steddie AU so—

Eddie and Robin were friends in high school, and every time they needed cover they would pretend to be dating.

So she starts working at Scoops, sees Steve not knowing he’s different now, and as a defense mechanism tells him about her “boyfriend”

Then they become buds but she still doesn’t correct the record, because she would have to explain why she lied

So Eddie comes into the shop and she’s like “That’s him!” and Steve is “🥺”

Because he and Eddie have been dating for months

THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT AT THAT LAST LINE NONNY. This story starts on July 1st (S3E3), so after they've cracked the Russian code.

-

It takes a full month of working at Scoops to get Robin to be more chill around him. He gets it. He was never outright mean to her but he was a dick in high school and his reputation lingers.

He's happy now that she's graduated from quietly distrusting him to outright teasing him. He's pretty sure it means they're friends now, or something like it. She even made that white board to mock his inability to flirt a few weeks ago. He knows he'll never get a tally in the You Rule category because he's not actually trying to flirt with anyone, what with him having a boyfriend of his own. Not that he can brag about his boyfriend as much as Robin brags about her boyfriend.

And, Jesus, did she brag at first. Steve had been convinced it was a new romance, and therefore she was still in the honeymoon phase, except she said they'd been dating since she was a freshman. With senior year starting for her in September, Steve's a little jealous.

He hopes that he and Eddie never leave their honeymoon phase. It's only been three months, and Steve's in awe that Eddie even bothered to look his way after how he'd been in school. Still in awe that Eddie wants more with Steve than just the physical. That Eddie wants cuddles during a movie, and sappy hand holding while they just chat, and to hold Steve after a nightmare on the rare occasion they get to share a bed through the night.

Anyway, the point. Robin is something of a friend and Steve's pleased about it. They have to be friends now, right? They cracked a Russian code together! (Steve refuses to give Dustin any credit for their official jump into friendship even though they wouldn't have had a Russian code to crack without him.)

"Are you and the Boy going to do anything for the Fourth?" Steve asks apropos nothing after handing off a banana split, leaving no more customers to help currently. He's a little ashamed to admit that he doesn't remember the name of her boyfriend. He's sure she said it at some point, so he's blaming his shit memory for that. But she just refers to him as the Boy, and doesn't find it weird that Steve does, too, so he'll take the win.

"Oh, uh, we haven't really discussed it. I'm scheduled closing on the Fourth so," Robin shrugs.

"We'll be in misery together," Steve says.

"Joy."

It's times like these, where Robin is so deadpan Steve can't tell if she's joking or not. Like maybe they aren't the budding friends Steve thinks they are. She's tough to read, sometimes.

"Well, even with the closing shift, there's still a lot of night left. Great time for fireworks."

"True. I'm sure The Boy is thinking up something as we speak. He likes to surprise me."

Steve's not jealous. He's not. He knows that Eddie would surprise him if they didn't have to be so secret about it all.

They do have plans for after Steve gets off work on the Fourth to go to the carnival. It's not strange for friends to go together. Maybe Steve can convince Robin come and to bring the Boy and they can just be a group of friends hanging out?

"Well, if he hasn't planned anything, maybe you and he will want to come hang out at the carnival? I'm going with a friend, maybe we'd see each other."

Robin levels him with a look, eyes squinted in judgement. "Your friends, the children?"

"I have more friends than just children!"

"I literally do not believe you. Why don't any of your age appropriate friends come bother you here, like all those kids?"

It's a valid question, Steve can concede. "That's because I do not want him to see me in this uniform. I will never live it down."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Does he even know you work here?"

"Absolutely not. So if you do bump into us at the carnival, you are not allowed to say our place of employment. I'm serious, Robin. This will ruin me. You can say 'the mall' because that's all I'll say about it."

Robin's grin turns mischievous. "So, what I'm hearing is, I have blackmail material against the Steve Harrington?"

Steve groans. She's joking. He's like... 80% sure she's joking. He makes a mental note to ask Eddie if he knows Robin.

"Oh shit!" Robin calls out, surprised but delighted. Steve whips his head to her, and sees she's looking out the front door and through a sea of people.

"What, is it Dustin? Russians?" Steve joins her side quickly trying to see what she sees.

"No, it's-" she cuts herself off and Steve turns his head to look at her, only to find she's already looking at him. "It's my boyfriend. I don't think he's seen me yet. Want to meet him if he comes in?"

"Hell yeah I do. I need to meet the man you won't shut up about," Steve grins at her before turning his attention back to the people. His eyes scan over all of them, trying to figure out which guy looks like he might be Robin's boyfriend. Which, yes, he knows isn't something you can judge based on looks (he and Eddie are a prime example) but still.

And speaking of Eddie- no! No no! He'll never hear the end of it if Eddie sees the stupid sailor outfit. Eddie hasn't spotted him yet, so Steve slides around Robin to be out of eyesight. "You see him?"

"Yeah, he's- oh! I think he's seen me. He's coming this way," almost as an after thought, she adds, "do you remember Eddie Munson?"

Play it cool, Steve. "Uh... yes. Why? Is he coming this way? I thought I saw him out there..." Way to play it cool. If Robin didn't seem so hyped to be seeing her boyfriend, she would absolutely be questioning him.

"Oh. Well, he's my boyfriend, and yes he is."

Steve feels the floor fall out from under him.

The whole world shifts and Steve cannot stay here. He thinks he says something about a bathroom break before ducking into the employees only door, and then his body moves him further still until he's through several other doors and suddenly outside in the heat of the day.

Do you remember Eddie Munson? Well, he's my boyfriend.

He doesn't know what to do with that. Doesn't know how to process it. How to proceed. Eddie is- but he can't- this can't be real. This is a crazy dream, brought on by thoughts of Russians and codes and leftover Upside Down bullshit and he will be waking up anytime now to get ready for work.

Eddie Munson. He's my boyfriend.

He can't be your boyfriend Steve wants to scream. He can't be your boyfriend because he's mine.

Maybe... Maybe it's turning out to be that while Eddie is his boyfriend, he's not Eddie's. Maybe Eddie's never thought of him as a boyfriend.

Every instance runs through his head; all the times Eddie wouldn't stay the night. All the times Eddie told him he couldn't stay at the trailer. Is Eddie actually even in a band or is band practice just a convenient lie that keeps him from having to see Steve while still keeping him in his back pocket?

All the hiding, and the let's keep this just to us for now, and how wonderfully convenient it is that this needs to, has to, be a secret when you're in a queer relationship in a small town.

Steve's a goddman idiot!

Of course, Eddie has a girlfriend. Of course, he agreed to 'see where this thing goes.' This is why Eddie bothered to even look his direction. Because there's no scenario where Steve comes out okay. He can't even tell Robin her boyfriend isn't the fucking golden, perfect boy she brags about because how does he do that without telling her how he knows?

All the worst case scenarios play in his mind. Robin being in on it. Her and Eddie laughing at him behind his back, waiting for the right time to publicly out him. To get whatever revenge they think he owes to them for all his dick behavior in school. His whole relationship being a joke.

He lets out a yell and whips around to punch the wall next to the employee entrance door. The pain grounds him almost immediately and that yell turns into a chokes off sob, his eyes squeezing shut as he leans in to rest his forehead against the wall and take a shuddering breath.

There's no way Robin is in on this. And it was mean of him to think so. If Steve's just been some sort of experiment to Eddie, then that's on Eddie.

And Steve. For being stupid enough to believe anyone would actually be interested in him. For taking one look at Eddie's stupid dimpled smile and tripping over himself to do everything in his power to see it again. For fucking falling in love too fast, too soon, and not asking enough fucking questions and-

Oh.

That's why this hurts so much. That's why he didn't stick around to watch Eddie sweat at seeing his long-term girlfriend and- and whatever the fuck he thought Steve was working together and getting caught in whatever fuckery he's doing.

Steve's gone a fallen in love with the asshole.

He pushes off the wall, takes a deep breath to steel himself, and makes a decision. He's going to confront Eddie on the Fourth, since that's the next day they'll see each other. He'll tell him they're done, and that Eddie needs to come clean to Robin about what he's done, or he will. She deserves to know, and Steve can deal with the consequences.

When he returns the Scoops, there's no sign of Eddie, but Dustin is there.

(What Steve doesn't know is that Robin and Eddie hugged in greeting. Robin asked what he was up to. Eddie told her he was searching for his boyfriend. He works at the mall and Eddie wants to surprise him. Robin doesn't ask who he's looking for, and Eddie doesn't offer, because they both know the importance of coming out on your own terms and in your own time. Robin does ask if he's happy, and Eddie says he didn't know he could be this happy.)

Of course, what follows that is a series of terrible events that result in being stuck in an elevator, captured and tortured by Russians, drugged, and then rescued.

He and Robin end up in a bathroom, puking up their guts, and Robin says, in a Russian accent, "Interrogate me."

Steve chuckles and replies, "Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um... when was the last time you peed your pants?"

"Today."

"What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw. It was just a little bit, though."

She laughs and he groans. It's definitely still in her system.

"Okay. My turn."

"Hit me."

"Have you..." she starts, leaving a pause as she thinks of what to ask, before ending with, "ever been in love?"

And Steve, horrifyingly, mortifyingly, just starts to cry. He can normally reign this in, has better control than this, but whatever drug is still in his system robs him of that.

In another universe, where Steve is able to control himself, he'd lie. He'd describe Robin, knowing she's happily taken, maybe slide himself under the partition between their stalls so she can reject him to his face, and they can laugh it off, solidifying their friendship.

But that's not what happens.

What happens instead is this: Robin, who does not slide herself across the floor but instead hauls herself upright to stumble around the partition, kneels in front of him as Steve lets out hiccupping sobs in between saying embarrassing things like yes and they don't love me back, they never love me back.

And Robin. Sweet, wonderful Robin, to whom he has been the other person in her years long relationship, tugs his arm until he's no longer hugging the toilet and is instead cradled by Robin. And she hums and assures him that whoever doesn't love him is an idiot and it makes Steve sob harder because she doesn't know and when she learns she's going to hate him.

He cannot let her continue to comfort him while he's crying about her boyfriend. It is with that sobering thought that he's able to win his war against whatever he's been injected with and stop his tears. Just in time, too, because Dustin and Erica find them, and then the Russians do, but so does El and the others.

The world is nothing but Upside Down terror for hours.

When the dust settles, Hopper is dead, and so is Billy, and Steve is sat in the back of an ambulance, hugging Robin around her shoulders as they both look out into the parking lot with matching thousand-yard stares. They've been looked over and deemed okay to go home, so Steve is just waiting for the government men currently raiding what is left of the underground Russain bunker to either find his keys, or not.

If his keys are found, he's Robin's ride. If they aren't, they're both being dropped off by ambulance, which Robin is stressing about because her parents cannot see her come home in the back of an ambulance.

Steve offers her to stay at his house. He thinks it'll be easier to beg her parents for forgiveness than explain this situation. Robin agrees to stay if the ambulance ends up being their ride.

It doesn't, though. It takes an hour after everyone else has left, but someone delivers his keys.

It's eerie, the walk from the front lot around the mall to the back employee lot, so they clasp hands to have something to ground to. There are less people the further they walk. The fire's been contained, probably so the government people can root around the bunker below the mall to discover whatever it was the Russians knew, or know, or whatever.

The back lot is completely empty. Only Steve's car, parked towards the edge of the lot give that his shift yesterday had been an afternoon one, and all the closer parking spaces had been taken.

His car is parked so that the passenger side faces them as they approach. Wordlessly, they break apart, Robin heading for her door and Steve rounding the front of the car to get to the driver's side. Except as soon as he rounds the corner, a figure that was previously crouched or sat in front of the door jumps up, lunging at Steve.

He barely has time to register the voice, a terrified sounding "Stevie!" before Steve back tracks with a yelp, out of reach of the figure. Robin screams when he does, and whoever was lunging at him stops in their tracks, whipping around to look at the other source of the noise.

"Robin?"

It's then that Steve takes in the sight before him. It's Eddie. It was Eddie leaning against his door, waiting for him. Steve's flooded with a rush of love, his stupid brain deciding that Eddie must have been worried when Steve didn't meet him for the carnival. Had come to look for him. But then the reality of the situation settles over him.

That might have been true, but now he's seen that Steve is here with his girlfriend and this isn't how he wanted to do this but he will.

For Robin, he will. She deserves better.

"What are you doing here!? Besides scaring the shit out of us!" Robin yells, rounding the car to punch Eddie in the arm.

"Ow, Buckley, what the fuck!" Eddie rubs the spot she punched him, looking between Robin and Steve with... confusion? Steve is expecting to see maybe some remorse, or guilt, or maybe even glee at the fact stupid Steve Harrington was able to be so easily fooled. He doesn't see any of that, though.

Eddie takes a step towards him, and Steve flinches back.

Robin steps up to Eddie, like she wants to pull Eddie into a hug, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He looks from Robin to Steve again, then back to Robin. Steve can't see his face, his hair hides his profile, but he can see Robin's face. Her confusion, brows furrowed, before her eyes go wide and now she's looking between Steve and Eddie.

Fuck. She's just put it together herself! She's going to hate Steve forever, homewreaker that he is.

"Oh. Oh no," Robin whispers, then says Eddie's name in a devastated tone. "Eddie. Is it-?"

"I-I can't... Robin," Eddie says back, sounding just as hurt.

"No! No, I told him- Eddie, I told him we were dating!" she turns to Steve, then, and blurts, "I'm a lesbian!"

He doesn't know what to do with that information. "What?"

"I lied. Steve, I lied, I'm a lying liar and I'm so sorry," Robin says, shoving Eddie away from herself and towards Steve.

Maybe the drugs are still working because Steve still doesn't understand. "I don't... what?"

"I'm not dating Eddie," Robin says. "I've never dated Eddie, would never date Eddie because I don't want to date boys. Please, Steve, I never meant to make you think-" but she cuts herself off, looking from Steve to Eddie and back, before saying, "I never meant to make you think you were unlovable."

Eddie makes a wounded noise at that. "What did you say to him, Buckley!?"

Robin lied. Robin lied about dating a boy. Because she's not interested in boys? That doesn't make sense. That- oh. She lied about having a boyfriend for the same reason he's lied about not having a boyfriend. Because it isn't safe to not to.

Steve's legs give out, but he doesn't hit the pavement because Eddie catches him and the three of them sob and cling to each other in the dark of the parking lot.

Later, much later, the truth will come out. Steve will learn they've always been each other's covers but never actually together. Robin will apologize because she blames herself for Steve's bathroom, drugged-breakdown, and Steve apologizes for all the awful thoughts he had about Eddie when he thought Eddie was dating them both and lying about it.

Steve will learn that Eddie loves him, too, just as much as Steve loves him.

[sv5hive]

too little, too late. | lh44

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

content warning(s): angst, swearing, lewis is a bit of a dick in this sorry, unhappy ending because i love being miserable 🫶🏻

word count: 1,763

note: thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs on my first work a few days ago!! i didn't expect all the love so it is very, very appreciated :) this is a bit long so get comfy! and i also listened to you're losing me by taylor swift while writing so... yeah.

(psst! part 2 is here!)

(masterlist!)

memories from the night you two met flashed through your mind as you stood alone in the dim kitchen. the hangover from the next morning meant most of the night was a blur of shots, flashing lights and sweaty bodies but those deep brown eyes and endearing smile remained sharply in focus.

you stared at the two cold plates of dinner abandoned on the table and a bottle of wine nearing the end.

where had it all gone wrong?

six years.

six years of supporting him through everything.

and you loved being with lewis no matter what. seeing him in his element while racing was just as exciting for you as it was for him. but when would it end? you couldn't keep your life on pause forever.

back in 2017 when you first started dating you discussed a life of peace. a life with a big family and a nice house in england where your children could grow up normally like the both of you did. and you weren't foolish. you would never truly have peace when you were in a relationship with lewis hamilton, the face of formula 1. but you were willing to give up any sense of normality if it meant you could be with the love of your life.

or so you thought.

years passed as you watched all your friends get engaged and married, settle down and start their own families. at every bachelorette party, wedding reception, baby shower, family event you would be asked the same questions.

"when is he going to pop the question? you two have to get married! i bet he's planning to do it soon."

and every time you would have the same response.

"oh we're just taking it slow. he's pretty busy with racing and we both agreed that it wouldn't be fair for him to be away so much."

and you really did believe that at first.

either you didn't notice the stares of pity or you ignored them to convince yourself that everything was ok. it was only when you brought up the idea of finally having kids that you started doubting yourself.

"hey, lew. i've been thinking."

"hmm, yeah? what about." he replied absentmindedly, still searching netflix for a good movie to watch.

you passed him the bowl of popcorn to hold while you got under the blanket.

"i was thinking that we're finally ready to start a family."

he stilled. that was the last thing he thought you would bring up.

"lewis?"

"i want a family too, you know that. but i can't retire without getting that eighth championship. we're almost there. besides, i don't wanna leave you at home with a kid and not be there for every step of the way."

both of you knew at the rate mercedes was going, lewis would need a miracle and a half to win another title against red bull and their rocket ship.

he avoided your eyes and clearly thought that was the end of the matter so you accepted that when he was ready he would tell you. right?

you tossed and turned that night, unable to get the way he brushed off the topic so coldly out of your head. did you imagine it? that flicker of hesitance on his face? a pit of uneasiness settled at the bottom of your stomach as you desperately tried to reason with yourself. no. everything is fine. you had already waited a few years. what was a couple more?

so you tucked away your dreams of a family into the back of your mind for the time being and just enjoyed your relationship with lewis. every date felt like the first and you never wanted your love to end.

"lewis...this is too much!" as you stared in awe at the lone table in the middle of a completely empty restaurant.

rose petals led you two all the way from the entrance to a table with a single rose stood in a vase in the centre as candles flickered softly.

"for you? never."

staring at him in the golden light, you couldn't help but blush at his romantic gesture. he was making up for being away during a triple header and you hated to admit it but you could get used to this.

racing. you smiled at the thought of seeing lewis race. it was like seeing an artist produce a masterpiece every time pencil hit paper. he truly was an incredible sight to see.

you were there for each of his championships since 2017. you witnessed the joy of 2020 and the heartbreak of 2021. you were there, celebrating each win with him and consoling him after each loss, every time. you had fallen in love with the sport you once had no knowledge of just as hard as you had fallen for lewis. you knew how much of a toll each season took on him and you were always going to be there to pick him back up. his world became yours as you met his team and soon enough you were a familiar sight in the mercedes garage.

wasn't seven world championships enough for him?

you would never ask him to give up his career for you. and he would never ask that of you. but after years of waiting for the next step you couldn't help but wonder whether he still wanted that with you.

he was more than an hour late now. both of your schedules had been almost completely full for the past few months and you thought it would be nice to catch up over homemade dinner.

apparently he didn't think the same.

you hadn't bothered calling or texting. he always turned his phone off while at work anyways. as you finished off the last mouthful of wine the jingle of keys and the door unlocking brought you back out of your thoughts.

heavy footsteps trudged through the hallway.

"hey baby, i didn't think you would be up- what's all this?"

"dinner. i've been waiting for two hours now." you turned away from the counter to face him.

"shit. i am so sorry. i just got so caught up at work. we've been trying to improve the car to-"

"-to beat red bull. i know. i know."

"i promise i'll make it up to you. what about dinner next week? at that chinese restaurant you really like?" he walked towards you and went to wrap his arms around you before you pushed him away.

"stop, lewis. just stop. i can't keep doing this." you couldn't look him in the eyes.

a pin drop could be heard as lewis' blood ran cold.

"what?"

the change in atmosphere almost made you wish you had never said anything. almost.

"i can't keep waiting on you, lewis. i'm sorry."

"i said i would make it up to you." the look of pure confusion on his face would be amusing if it weren't for the fact that you were on the verge of tears.

"it's not just about dinner, lewis."

"then what is it about?"

"everything. god, we've been together for eight years and we're not even engaged and nowhere near starting a family. we have nothing to show for it. i knew i would have to wait and i was fine with that but i just can't anymore. this isn't what i imagined for us."

"so what? you're just going to leave? you know how i feel about having kids."

"and i get that, i do. but are you even planning on retiring in the near future? we're not getting any younger and i've been ready for a while now. i just don't think our ideas of our future are the same anymore."

"am i just meant to drop everything for you then? give it all up?"

"fuck, of course not, lewis. i would never ask you to do that. never. but sometimes it feels like you choose your career over me. and i know what it takes to be in formula 1 to win, i know you need to give it your full focus. i just, i need you to choose me for once. choose us."

"no, you don't know what it takes because if you did, you wouldn't be doing this to me right now. in the middle of the season."

you blinked. once. twice. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"are you fucking kidding me, lewis? i'm ending our six year relationship and you're thinking of how it's going to effect your season?"

"yes! fuck, this is my whole life. it always has been and it always will be."

there it is. confirmation from the man himself. you stumbled on your words trying to convey your anger as your blood continuously boiled at his miserable attempt to fix his mess.

"have you ever even thought about how i've felt all these years? giving every excuse in the book to our families and friends about why we haven't taken the next step in our relationship and defending you when they said i was too good for you? you may get to avoid them by going to the races but i don't have that privilege."

your throat was dry at this point as you gasped for air and still, he was stood almost unbothered at the fact you were hopelessly clinging onto the last remaining threads of your relationship, willing him to fight back.

"so that's it? you're not going to stop me?"

tears pooled at your eyes as you realised this was really happening.

"well clearly you've thought this out pretty well."

you didn't know whether to laugh, cry or throw the empty bottle of wine at his head.

"you are fucking unbelievable, lewis. i thought this meant something to you but clearly not."

you stormed towards the door and opened it. you paused while silently hoping he would beg you to stay. hoping he would risk everything for you.

but it never came.

you wiped away your tears and tried to at least sound somewhat assertive despite your voice wavering.

"let me know when you're not at home and i'll come get my things."

you slammed the door shut with a resounding bang and walked away from the place and person you had called home for so long.

he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. as he moved to get a beer out of the fridge his gaze fell on the calendar stuck to the front. there was a red heart around today's date with "anniversary!" written in your handwriting.

fuck.

note: yikes. i hope you aren't too sad because of me. any feedback is appreciated!! let me know what else you wanna see :)

[hyunluvbug]

jealousy, jealousy

pairing: lee know x afab reader

content: 🔞NSFW MDNI!!, ex lovers to lovers?, public sex (bathroom), oral (m receiving), face fucking (f receiving), unprotective sex, possesive!minho

premise: lee know is your ex and he sees you in the club one night. he becomes jealous from all the attention everyone is giving you.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i have been simping extra hard for this man recently (more than normal ><) and this idea kind of drove me crazy. so i had to write and share this fantasy, enjoy :>

minho. the man who once consumed every ounce of your mind. his name running circles throughout brain like a marathon. he is everywhere until he is nowhere. the cause of your breakup? it was a mutual agreement. something you both discussed. all of it came down to the both of you being too busy to see one another.

"i think we should break up." minho tells you one evening in your apartment.

"okay."

your agreement is one that shocks him. he's shocked that you both thought the exact same thing. being too busy and not seeing each other enough made it feel like there wasn't any point to the relationship. of course, you miss him like hell and he misses you too. but it is what was best in the moment.

your friends thought maybe you are insane. they know how much you both love each other. hearing you decided to break up was a shocker for them. when you two had been dating for over a year. you kept telling them you were fine and that the breakup was simple. no one's heart was truly broken and no one was left with sullen feelings. a small piece of you did wish things could be different. but life just happens.

this is what led to your friends dragging you to the club. it had been a week without him and it felt like any other day. you barely saw him during the relationship to begin with so not much was new. a part of you did begin to feel lonely. knowing that you are no longer his and he’s not yours, did hurt.

your friends wanted to drag you to the club thinking it would cheer you up when you weren't even sad. you accepted anyways since a night out could be fun.

the crowd was lively. music boomed through the room causing vibrations to buzz the floor beneath you. a cup in hand filled with vodka and your hips swaying side to side. your friends are around you dancing with one another, twirling around and giggles leaving their lips. you are tipsy. the liquor making your body feel electric.

there were many other attractive people who caught your eye. some of them even eyeing you from how great you looked tonight. you had put on what you considered to be your best outfit and it was garnering many people's attention. one person's attention was all on you and you hadn't even noticed him.

minho was at that exact same club. for the exact reasons as you. his friends didn't really understand how the two of you broke up. you were practically inseparable when you were together but they guessed his busy schedule plus yours didn't match. minho was practically fuming though as he watched you dance in the crowd. taking notice of all the other people watching you, practically eye fucking you from a distance. he felt jealousy bubble up into his chest and he was waiting for it to explode.

you don't even remember how it all happened. one minute you were dancing and another you were following minho into the men's bathroom. he walked over to you and didn't even say a word, all he did was grab your wrist and drag you along. you let him.

"minho?" you questioned as he leads you into a stall. he locks the stall door and stares at you. taking in just how great you look in your outfit. everything about it makes him lose his mind.

"do you know how difficult it is to see other people who clearly want to fuck you?"

"excuse me." you question, shocked at what he is telling you. he begins to pull down his zipper, you watch him with your eyes wide. you are tipsy but you can still understand what he is about to do.

“knees.”

“if you think i’m going to get on this dirty ass floor-“

he lightly pushes you to the floor, “i said get on your knees.”

his eyes are clouded with darkness, something you hadn’t seen before. you gulp down your words as you look up at him. he pulls his pants and boxers down, his eyes looking into yours.

“you know what to do.”

you hesitate for a moment. remembering the break up and how it all happened. it was all his idea and yet here he is practically commanding you to suck him off. you can't deny that this whole situation turns you on.

"come on baby, i know you've missed me as much as i have missed you." he sighs above you, you look into his eyes. your eyes half lidded and he smiles at the sight. you bring his cock closer to your lips and begin to lick the tip.

"fuck, that's my good girl."

you tease his tip with your tongue, his hand caresses your cheek and pulls you forward. his cock fully enters your mouth and he lets out a loud groan.

"such a perfect mouth." he holds onto your face while he fucks his cock into your mouth. your eyes are on him as you watch him bite down on his lip. many moans and groans leave from his lips as he continues to slide in and out of your mouth.

squelching sounds of your spit on his cock fills the bathroom and echoes off the walls. the idea of someone walking in and hearing it makes you wet.

minho then pulls you away quickly. he stares into your eyes, a smirk is on his face. he grabs your wrists and pulls you up off the floor. his lips come into contact with yours and it feels euphoric. being able to kiss again after so long feels amazing. it is a feeling you didn't think you would be able to experience again.

while you're making out, you feel him pull down your panties. easy access since you're wearing a skirt. he runs his fingers under your skirt to feel your wetness.

"you always get soaking for me." he whispers over your lips. his fingers prod at your folds and run over your clit. making your legs shake and a soft moan to leave your lips.

"minho please."

"don't worry, i'll give you what you want."

he places you against the cold metal stall wall. you jump up to wrap your legs around him. you feel his cock come into contact with your folds. he rubs his cock over them letting the wetness coat him.

"you're mine." he breathes into your ear and pushes inside. the feeling of his cock inside of you at this angle makes your eyes roll. he is able to hit the deepest part of you. exploring the pleasure it brings you both.

he begins to thrust, in doing so, the stall wall begins to creak. the sound of him fucking you makes your brain mushy. the thrusts become more erratic and quick, your moans egging him to go faster.

"you want someone to hear you get slutted out huh? let them hear how dumb i fuck you. come on baby, say it."

you can't even form words. what he says slips in one ear and out the other. you can only imagine how fucked out you must look right now. your eyes are half closed and practically rolling into the back of your head.

"say it." he coos and you pant loudly. his thrusts become more harsh, each one pulling out slowly and thrusting back in even harder.

"y-you fuck, you fuck m-me so stupid."

"good girl." he chuckles, his thrusts go even deeper inside. wet sounds filling the bathroom. each thrust making you even more stupid, not being able to think about anything but him.

and your worst fear happens. someone walks in.

the bathroom door swings open with a creak and you hear them unzip their pants. minho covers your mouth with one hand and continues to fuck up into you. this drives you even more insane. knowing someone can still hear the rhythmic squeaking of the stall door. they can probably guess what is happening. your moans are muffled by his hand, he looks into your eyes. a big smirk is on his face. he is reveling in the fact someone can hear you get fucked. once they finish their business, they flush and walk out. the door creaks closed.

minho removes his hand from your mouth and you let out a loud groan.

"can't let anyone hear how fucked out you sound. only i can. just me. no one else baby. i want you for myself. i own you." he whispers sweetly into your ear. each phrase matched with a hard thrust.

you let out a few more whimpers. starting to feel a little embarrassed at how he makes you feel. everything he says makes you even closer to your high. his words allow you to revisit your feelings for him, everything begins to come back to you. you don't ever want to leave him. you want to be with him no matter what it takes.

"cum for me baby." he pants into your ear, his thrusts beginning to falter as his high also approaches. he thrusts inside a few more times and you're coming undone around him.

"shit." he grunts and you feel his cum coat your walls. he wraps his arms around you, your legs still secure around his waist. he pulls out of you and you let out a low whine. he begins to breathe heavily into your neck, trying to get through his orgasm.

when his breaths slow down, he looks up at you. his eyes glossed over with love. he smiles shyly at you, "okay so maybe i got jealous."

the statement makes you chuckle. you tap his arms and he helps you down to the floor. your knees wobble a little bit but he helps you stay up. he hands you your underwear and you slide them back on.

"that was one hell of a way to show me you want to get back together." you smirk and his face flushes. now he is the one who is embarrassed. he pulls up his own boxers and jeans.

"i just missed you so much baby." your hand reaches up to his cheek, caressing his soft skin.

"well, you have me. i am never leaving your side again." he leans into your hand, his eyes welling up with tears. he sniffles a little and you coo at him.

"wow, you missed me that much? i can finally say i made the lee minho cry."

"ah shut up, you're ruining it."

you both begin to laugh together, hoping that this is what will keep you together. the undeniable love you have for one another should be enough. no one or anything could ever get in the way of that again.

[roosterforme]

How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"

He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"

"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."

"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.

"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."

"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."

He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."

Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."

He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."

"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.

He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."

Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."

"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.

She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."

Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."

"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.

----------------------------

"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter. 

"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."

"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday. 

He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"

She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers. 

"Fine."

And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning. 

"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch. 

Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."

"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"

"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"

Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"

"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."

"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.

"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"

"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

She was hoping it would be fine.

--------------------------

When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.

"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.

"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."

"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house. 

"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.

"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"

"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear. 

"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.

Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom. 

"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated." 

She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."

Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."

"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.

And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life. 

"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"

"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."

"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."

Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going." 

"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."

He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.

"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip. 

Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."

Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."

"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!

After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."

"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.

"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake. 

"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."

He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."

"I knew it all along."

---------------------------

Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents. 

She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."

He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."

"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."

She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."

Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."

"But you've never had assless chaps before."

Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."

As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.

But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"

"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly. 

"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"

"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."

------------------------

I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[cupid-styles]

silk and rope

the long awaited ddlg harry and yn pairing has finally arrived!!!

some general disclaimers: I've never been in a relationship like this myself nor have I experimented too much with proper bdsm techniques, so there may be some things that are wrong in this!!!! I did research and tried my best to make it as accurate as possible but pls don't come for me if something isn't right ok thank yoooouuuuuu!!!!!!!

word count: 10.6k

content warnings: daddy dom and sub/little yn relationship, big ol’ daddy kink, basically just a lot of smut (bondage, overstimulation, use of toys, dirty talk, f oral, penetration), discussions of subspace and crappy sexual experiences (nothing forced), yn in little/sub space

"Y/N, I just don't think this is working out anymore."

Normally, Y/N is able to see this coming.

In the past, she's had 20/20 hindsight, predicted when whatever man she was seeing — or rather, submitting to — had finally gotten bored of her, and been able to paste a smile on her face when it finally happened. She could bite her tongue hard enough to prevent the flush that would eventually warm her entire body with embarrassment, mumble out some nonsense response ("okay, that's fine, I appreciate the time we spent together", which was usually a lie anyway), give them a halfhearted hug and let them go.

Todd, however? The world's worst dominant? She seriously can't believe that Todd of all people is ending things.

Realistically, Y/N doesn't really care that Todd isn't interested in dominating her anymore. He was shit at aftercare and only paid attention to maintaining a sexual relationship, as opposed to an emotional one, too. (Y/N's profile specifically said that she was looking for a dominant inside and outside of the bedroom.) So, when it comes down to it, it's fine that Todd is putting a stop to their rather lackluster relationship, but Y/N is unprepared.

Typically, at this point, she already has a date with another dominant lined up for 24 hours from now. She's already talking to other people, listing out her hard limits and what she's looking for, maybe even switching her photos around to change things up after being on this god forsaken website for a year and a half.

And maybe she, too, was so unsatisfied with Todd that she wasn't paying enough attention to realize the end was coming. 

But with her slightly squinted eyes and half-open jaw, it must seem that she's in some sort of immediate stage of heartbreak (she's not, she's just surprised), because Todd goes to sling his arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

"It's not you, babe, it's me," he says, and it makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs, "Really, you were great. Fantastic every time. Just think I'm looking for someone a little bit more... emotionally stable, y'know?"

That's what breaks Y/N out of her trance, so she quickly rises from her couch and wordlessly opens the front door. 

"Thanks. You can go now."

With furrowed eyebrows, Todd stands up, as if he was expecting her to get down on her knees and grovel at his feet, begging him to stay.

"See, this is what I'm talking about, babe— one second you're all quiet and mousey, and the next you're trying to boss me around like I'm the submissive," he feens offense as he pulls his sneakers on, "I think you should probably get your brain together before you start seeing someone else, it's a real mindfuck."

"Okay," Y/N smiles tightly, gesturing outside to the chilly evening. "See you around, Todd."

The confused expression remains on Todd's face but thankfully, he leaves without another word. Y/N lets out a deep sigh as she shuts the door behind him and locks it up. She grabs one of the leftover muffins she made at work today, plops down on the couch, and turns on the TV to find a show to fall asleep to.

. . .

If Harry's being honest, the bar is the last place he wants to be right now.

And he would be at home if he hadn't blown his friends off for the past three weeks, and Claire hadn't stopped by his desk while he was packing his things up, threatening to kidnap him if he wasn't planning on attending this evening. 

He feels bad, especially because he knows he has the tendency to prioritize work over his friends, so he shoots her a tight smile and tells her to lead the way. 

So now he's at their usual booth in the corner, slowly nursing a lukewarm beer that he'd ordered an hour ago when they arrived. He's halfway listening to a story Lea is telling about her shitty on-again, off-again boyfriend, occasionally suppressing the urge to yawn. He glances down at the watch on his wrist to read the time and promises himself that he'll stay another 30 minutes before ducking out. 

Truthfully, he's bored, and he's tired, and his bed is calling to him in a way that's almost painful. He occupies himself by people-watching, trying to guess who's on first dates or, like him and his friends, getting together for weekly drinks. It's only then that he zeroes in on her — Y/N, that is — sitting alone at the bar top, slightly hunched over as she taps on her phone, a glass of wine in the other hand. 

Harry doesn't know Y/N that well. He knows that she went to college with Naomi, who started inviting her to things around a year ago, and now she's always just around. He's unsure if she actually likes any of them besides Naomi, though — she's quiet and introverted, which Harry respects and understands, but the one-on-one conversations they've had are few and far between. 

But that's why his interest is piqued in the first place. He's never witnessed her sitting alone at the bar, and a twinge of concern fires through him as he watches her. He clears his throat and turns back to the table, unintentionally cutting Lea off. 

"Is Y/N okay?" he asks, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bar.

"What? I didn't even know she was here," Lea says as she peers over with a shrug, "Seems fine to me."

She continues on with her story and Harry rolls his eyes, grabbing his pint and striding over to where Y/N is sitting. He props himself up on the stool next to her and waves the bartender down, pointing to his glass. 

"Hey, Y/N," Harry greets easily as his glass gets refilled. She looks up from her phone and immediately locks it, as if he's tearing her from some deep thinking, surprised that anyone would come to bother her in a busy pub. "How are you?"

With slightly parted lips, she looks a bit bewildered. "Um... I'm fine. How are you, Harry?"

He swallows, glancing down at the half-full glass of white wine she's drinking. He's never actually seen her drunk, despite near-weekly meetups at this pub. She seems tipsy, not fully under water, though decently buzzed. 

"I'm good, thanks," he forces a smile onto his lips as an effort to seem as though he's not concerned for her wellbeing. "I saw you over here and realized I didn't even say hi to you."

Y/N shrugs. "I didn't really feel like socializing tonight. Naomi kind of dragged me here."

"Ah, Claire did the same to me," Harry replies understandingly, nodding his head, "Said she'd kidnap me if I didn't come out."

She scoffs at that before tilting the glass back towards her lips, taking another hearty gulp. He doesn't miss the thin wince she makes as the liquid touches her tongue, swallowing it down quickly. 

"Is it 'cos you got broken up with, too?" 

Harry's eyes widen at her question, but she's already looked past him, zoning out with a bleary look. 

"Oh... I'm sorry, Y/N. Do you want to talk about it?" 

He's not great at emotional conversations, especially with people he barely knows, but he supposes it's a decent explanation for why she's in this state. He's content with lending a shoulder to cry on, he decides, because he doubts Naomi had done the same.

"It wasn't really a breakup, it's fine," she mutters with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We weren't dating, is what I mean."

Although she attempts at some sort of explanation, Harry's still confused, but he nods as if he understands. 

"Was it like a friends with benefits situation?" he guesses, and she shrugs noncommittally. 

"Kind of."

"So it was complicated, then," Harry murmurs. He gets that — he's been there a thousand times over, and he understands the pain associated with those types of situations.

"It wasn't," she shakes her head, and now Harry knows she's just spewing out drunken nonsense, "He was my... dominant. Or tried to be. He was really fucking shitty at it."

Dominant?

The familiar word echoes through the chambers of Harry's mind. He's certainly not unacquainted with dominant and submissive dynamics, but he's shocked — more than, really — that Y/N refers to a typically taboo word in such a casual way. He chalks it up to the alcohol, but he's still surprised that Y/N even had a dominant to begin with.

"I met him on one of those stupid seeking arrangements websites, which honestly never produces good results," Y/N continues, making Harry's eyes widen even more. He's sure that she would never reveal this information to any of their mutual friends, let alone him of all people. "Every dom I've had from there has been... whatever. But he was particularly awful, and he just ended things out of nowhere. Normally I like to have someone else lined up, but... yeah."

Even in her alcohol-fueled state, Y/N realizes that she's rambling, providing far too many personal details to Harry, who she rarely talks to. She knows she'll be ridiculously embarrassed by the entire evening as soon as the wine drunk haze wears off, but for now, Harry's on the receiving end of her secrets.

Harry clears his throat and straightens his posture, sitting up a little taller. "Well, you said it yourself. Those sites are shitty, the dominants on there are usually just looking to experiment for the first time and they don't know what they're doing. The local BDSM community is your best bet... clubs and gatherings and such."

Y/N wrinkles her eyebrows and peers at Harry beside her. He's looking straight ahead and nibbling on his bottom lip, his hand firmly grasped around his glass. She doesn't know much about Harry besides the fact that he works at some large company with a relatively well-off position. He's gorgeous, of course, and has flings with people here and there but otherwise, her knowledge of what him is... well, almost non-existent. 

It wasn't totally impossible — the likelihood that Harry, like Y/N, was involved in similar sexual dynamics. She wouldn't classify herself as part of the BDSM community, but perhaps it was because she'd never dove headfirst into learning about it outside of what she's interested in. She felt that what she looked for in a dominant was rather... specific. 

"Do you... are you...?" Y/N doesn't quite know how to phrase the question, "are you a dom?" without sounding like a total creep, so she allows him to fill in the blanks. His throat bobs as he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging his shoulders tersely. 

"Yeah," he finally answers. "Not very consistently, I guess, but I'll take on a sub a few times year. Usually for a few months."

She nods slowly, squinting her eyes a bit as she tries to picture it. She's not sure what type of dominant Harry is — whether he's sweet and soft, or tough and enjoys pushing his subs to their limit each and every time — but regardless, the mere thought of it is enough to make her squeeze her thighs.

"What about you?" he asks, shifting his position to face her. "It sounds like you go through doms kind of... quickly."

Y/N hums, "Kind of, I guess. I think I have kind of... like, particular needs, and not everyone is interested in it."

It's the most they've ever spoken to one another, and Harry doesn't even think before he's asking her what exactly she looks for in a dominant. He's immediately embarrassed — he doesn't know what made him question her so openly, but he can't help his curiosity. 

She waves his slight exasperation off, clearly not offended by his press for details.

"Can I just ask that you don't tell anyone?" Y/N says, looking at the man sitting next to her. "It's like, a little embarrassing, and I've never told our friends about it. Not even Naomi."

"Of course," Harry quips. He's always been good at keeping those types of things under wraps — he didn't believe anyone had anything to gain by learning about someone's sexual interests.

"I... I guess I have some trauma stemming from childhood that I've worked through in recent years. It's not important to this, but I tend to look for dominants who fulfill more of a caretaker role. I like to be... taken care of. In certain ways."

Her cheeks flush as the words leave her mouth as he listens to her closely. He's not sure if he's reading between the lines, looking too far into her explanation, but he gets it. He thinks. 

"So... a daddy dom?" Harry asks softly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and nods curtly. 

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about," he murmurs once he receives confirmation, "A lot of people like that type of relationship. I can understand why you'd be interested in it, especially if you have trauma."

She shrugs. "A lot of people think it's weird, too."

"Sure, but those aren't the people you should be seeking relationships out with," Harry replies easily, "What do you look for specifically? I'm sure we could find someone for you in the community."

Y/N lets a deep breath out, rolling her neck to each of her shoulders. She can't believe they're having this conversation in public, but she'd be lying if she said Harry wasn't easy to talk to. Plus, at the night went on, more people filed out of the bar considering it was a weekday. 

"It's not necessarily age play I'm after, which I think a lot of people think is what I want," she explains, "Just like... a caregiver, I guess, that's there for me both in and out of the bedroom. I, um... on bad days, fall into a... headspace, and it's very difficult to navigate that on my own. If that makes sense."

"Makes perfect sense," Harry nods. "Are you looking for punishments and such?"

"Yeah." she breathes, nibbling at her lip as she crosses her legs, attempting to mitigate the dull throbbing in her core. 

"Y/N, do you have my number?"

She swallows as she peers up at him through her eyelashes, shaking her head. He puts his hand out and she grabs her phone, placing it in his palm. He taps at the screen and she assumes he's putting his information in her contacts.

"Claire drove me here so I can't give you a ride home, but I'm gonna order you an Uber so you can head home," he murmurs lowly, handing her phone back to her. "Text me tomorrow. Can we get together after work?"

Y/N nods with slightly rounded eyes, making him smile gently. He realizes she must be more depraved than he thought if she's already slipping into her little space from an act as simple from that.

"Keep it together 'til you get home," Harry says with a quirked eyebrow, though embarrassment quickly washes over Y/N's body. He chuckles as she blushes, patting her thigh lightly. "I'll walk you out." 

She grabs her bag and follows him out of the bar, welcoming the autumnal chill as it pimples her skin. 

"Are you gonna slip on the way back?"

Y/N looks up to see Harry towering over her, a concerned expression on his face. 

"N-no. I'm fine."

He continues analyzing her for a moment or two more before he finally nods once. "Okay. If you feel yourself getting there, call me."

"I won't. I promise." 

Harry hums as a black sedan rolls up to the curb. He checks to make sure it's the correct license plate before guiding her to the car and holding the door open for her. She gets in the backseat and he nods at the driver, murmuring down at her, "seatbelt on."

She complies readily and he smiles, patting her head softly. "Message me when you get home. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Harry."

20 minutes later when he receives a text from her stating that she's made it home safely, he already knows he'll do anything to be her dominant.

. . .

Harry half expects Y/N to pretend like last night ever happened. 

He would understand it if she did. She was tipsy, revealing intimate details about her sexual preferences pertaining to BDSM. No one else from their friend group knew. It just ended up coming out for both of them — Harry doesn't parade his dominant role in the bedroom all around town, but if someone he knows asks, he's happy to admit to it and talk more about it. He's not ashamed by any means, but he can tell that Y/N is. She prefaced her explanation by stating that she has trauma — and really, who doesn't? — and hinted that dominants in the past have found her requests to be weird. 

Harry doesn't think the whole daddy dom thing is strange. He understands it, especially pertaining to a psychological, healing level. He's never engaged in that sort of dynamic before, typically sticking to scratching the itch his submissives usually had, whether it be getting tossed around a little, orgasm denial, or being tied up. He was happy to do what made them happy, but he usually kept it in the bedroom. 

The thought of taking up a caregiver role in Y/N's life made his spine tingle. 

He's always been interested in her — not even in a romantic or sexual way, he's always just found her fascinating. She's quiet and shy, beautiful, and the definition of a wallflower. Naomi brought her in one day and she just never left. It's been a year since then and Harry doesn't think she's spoken more than 15 words to the others.

And so, with all of this knowledge under his belt, he spends his day at work worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and constantly unlocking his phone. When he gets home that evening, narrowly avoiding Claire's proposal at more social interaction, he's lost all hope, even though he did tell her to text him when she was finished with work. He's properly pouting as he sits on his couch, knees to his chest, when his phone lights up on the coffee table in front of him.

From: Y/N Y/L/N

hey harry:) first of all, im so sorry about last night. i was clearly having a tough day and i definitely took advantage of u being willing to chat with me, so im sorry if i revealed too much or took you away from everyone else.. i know u don't go out often and im really sorry if i ruined it 

im also not sure if you still have interest in what we talked about last night w helping me find someone... its totally ok if you've changed ur mind or you were just drunk or whatever. again, i know i was being a lot so no worries!! sorry! just lmk :)

Harry's heart squeezes as he reads over her repeated apologies. In two texts, she said variations of "I'm sorry" four times. She thought she had ruined his night in some way when it was the complete opposite. 

His thumbs hover over the screen as he thinks of a response. He's over the moon that she still decided to text him and that she'd avoiding the path of pretending nothing happened. In all honesty, he's unsure if he could live with himself when he had all those images and thoughts of her in his head, knowing that they'd just moved on from it.

Hey Y/N. Please don't apologize for last night, I had a really nice time talking to you. I'm definitely still interested. Are you available tonight?

She's quick in her reply, which makes him smile. He can imagine the way she's probably alternating between biting her lip and picking at the skin around her fingernails, both of which he assumed were nervous habits that he picked up on last night.

ok if you say so.. and yes im free! i was planning on ordering some takeout if ur interested, i don't really have any food here that isn't a baked good lol

Harry chuckles at that. Claire mentioned once that Y/N works at the bakery close to the park he does his morning jogs through. When he passes by at early sunrise, the windows are often illuminated with a warm glow, and he wonders if it's coming from her.

That's okay, I was planning on cooking if you'd like me to bring you some. I have ingredients for a stir fry. Would that be okay?

She replies with what he can only describe as a bashful but affirmative answer (only if you're sure!! but that sounds great!) and sends a second message with her address. He's beaming as he chops up vegetables and sautes them up rice noodles and homemade peanut sauce, indulging in the simple act of cooking for Y/N. 

Last night, after he'd gotten home from the bar, he'd done some research on daddy dom relationships. He knew of them, but if he was going to offer being Y/N's, he wanted to ensure that he was knowledgable on anything she could want. He learned that there were many different facets of that type of dynamic, some of which he was comfortable with and some of which he wasn't. Like any other dominant and submissive relationship, hard and soft limits would be discussed, but this one, Harry realized, wouldn't just consist of kinks he had no interest in engaging in. 

As he spoons the finished stir fry into a plastic container to take to Y/N's, his stomach brews with butterflies. He's never expressed interest in dominating someone he already knows in real life. Those relationships existed purely in the confides of the bedroom. It's a commitment, he understands, to engage in such an agreement with her. 

So why isn't he scared?

. . .

"This is delicious, Harry," Y/N all but moans over her serving of stir fry, chopsticks in hand. He smiles before biting into a piece of broccoli coated in peanut sauce.

"I'm glad you like it. It's a go-to dish for me, especially on weekdays when I'm exhausted from work."

She hums, nodding thoughtfully as she chews. A temporary silence takes over as they eat, ended by Harry eventually clearing his throat and gently placing his bowl on the table. 

"So, about finding you a dom," he says, and her eyes perk up slightly, as if she's an over-excited puppy. "I have a proposition."

"Oh, you found someone already?"

"Sort of," Harry answers vaguely, "I think— well, no, I know. I would be interested in taking that place."

Y/N raises her eyebrows. She sets her own bowl of food on the table and purses her lips as she chews the rest of the contents in her mouth. 

"I don't think you want that." she says gently. 

"Why?" he shoots back, a near immediate response, "I spent all night and day thinking about it. I do."

Y/N sighs, "Because it's more than just spanking me when I have an attitude with you or cooking me a meal. I can be a lot, Harry, and it's the reason why I've gone through so many dominants already."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you go through so many because they're the problem?" Harry asks. "You lay it all out on the table, right? You tell them exactly what you're looking for. Everything you told me last night."

She nods.

"And they still agree. You tell them you want a dominant outside of the bedroom, too, that the 'daddy' role you're looking for is a caretaker," Harry continues, "So how does that make you the issue?"

"Because what I'm looking for is... unconventional," she fights back, convinced in her stance. "Guys think the whole daddy thing is hot until... until I actually need them."

"It's not unconventional, Y/N. I did a ton of research last night. There are a million sites explaining what a DDLG relationship is and what it can consist of. The things that go into it on both sides, but especially on the dominant's. I'm not saying I know everything about being one, but I've at least cared to learn."

Y/N sighs and rolls her lips into mouth. She'll admit, she's impressed. She's not sure any guy she's ever been with has done that.

"So... what would you want, then?" Y/N asks, her voice softened. 

"Well, I definitely have limits, but it's mainly dependent on what you're interested in," Harry explains. She finds that he's far too nonchalant for his own good, and the casual nature of his tone makes her even more nervous. 

"If you did some research then I'm sure you learned about the extents it can go to," she says thoughtfully and he nods, resting his chin in his palm, "I don't have a desire for the more extreme things. Diapers and pacifiers and all that." 

"Okay." 

She's taken aback by his lack of response — part of her expected some sort of "oh, thank god" — but she's starting to wonder if Harry just simply exists in a nonjudgmental space. One that she's very much not used to. 

"I just want someone to take care of me," she eventually forced out, setting her gaze on her bare thighs, a pair of lavender sweatshorts hung around her hips. "I can be bratty both in bed and out. I like to be put in my place. I enjoy being teased and humiliated. I like punishments and being pushed to my limits, even if I give you a hard time about it. I've been described as a handful when I'm feeling... little."

Harry had read a decent amount about "little space" last night. He'd dominated some partners to the point of falling into subspace, but little space seemed to differ. With his base knowledge on submission, he was able to tell that she was slipping into hers last night, giving him the inkling that making decisions for her and taking away the guess work was something she liked. 

"I'm sure you're not, but all of those things are fine by me," Harry replies easily, "What do you like when you're feeling little?"

"It depends on what put me there. If I had a bad day at work, I like a bath and you cooking for me... I get really touchy. If it happens from a sexual scenario, it can be quite difficult to pull me out. But I get really quiet... I'll be more pliable, allow you to throw me around. I'll usually cry, but if you're doing things correctly, they won't be bad tears. Just from overwhelm."

"What sexual scenarios put you there?"

She clears her throat, her tongue thick in her mouth. Thinking about these things is enough to make her slip, but she won't disclose that. At least not right now. 

"A number of things... edging or orgasm denial, being tied up and gagged. Anal since it requires trust and prepping. Any type of punishment, but especially spanking."

Harry's nodding his head as she speaks, apparent that he's processing everything she's telling him. He's not surprised by anything, per se, considering he's open to different experiences and nothing seems undoable. It's as if he's making a mental list, adding a separate section to his brain with Y/N's name plastered over it, filing away the information.

"What about when you're not feeling little?" Harry proceeds with little befuddlement, "What does the ideal dominant look like for you then?"

"Um... still just loving and caring. I likely won't be as bratty. More... in control of myself, I suppose," Y/N murmurs in reflection. "I would still like to have scenes with you when I'm not in that headspace, if that's alright. I'm not sure if it would be crossing a boundary."

"Of course." he answers readily without a blink of doubt, "When I embark on a dominant and submissive relationship, I don't like to half-ass it. I don't think there's a point in only asking for me when you need me. You'll never find comfort in me when you're feeling small."

Her heart warms at that, flutters in her tummy making it difficult to hide the smile curling at her lips. She assumes that she should've guessed Harry would be good at this type of thing; she's witnessed how deeply he cares for people. Even when they barely knew each other, he always greeted Y/N like they'd known one another for years, asking about her job at the bakery (she doesn't even remember if she told him he worked at one) and what sweets they were creating nowadays. 

She thinks Harry just has a way of making people feel special. 

It's what makes her core tingle, squeezing her thighs together for a semblance of relief as she rolls her lips into her mouth. She can feel herself starting to dampen in her underwear and she glances down at Harry's lower half, peeking through her eyelashes to see if he has a growing bulge. 

"Do you think we can do a scene tonight, maybe?" Y/N asks softly, glancing back up at his eyes. 

Harry chuckles. "I take it you think I'd be a good fit for you then."

"Mhm." 

"You're cute," he smirks and pinches her thigh lightly, "No scenes tonight though. I can come over tomorrow, but I want to properly feed you and make sure you're hydrated before we do anything."

Y/N nods as she nibbles on her bottom lip. If she's being honest, she wants nothing more than to crawl into Harry's lap, parting her thighs and grinding into him while he babbles dirty words into her ear. She's always found him attractive, but knowing that he's willing to cater to her own sexual desires lights a fire deep in her stomach. 

"I'm gonna head home, but I'm looking forward to getting started with you," Harry says with a small smile, "Oh, one more thing — no touching yourself tonight."

Her eyes widen as he stands from the couch, ready to grovel; they haven't even begun doing anything yet and he's already telling her what to do—

"Y/N," Harry growls, reaching up to grab her face. He squishes her cheeks together and her pupils broaden, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. "Nod if you understand."

She nods.

"Good girl. I'll text you when I'm coming over tomorrow. I'll bring you dinner again."

Again, she nods.

"Say 'thank you', Y/N."

"Thank you, daddy."

Harry's lips curl into a smirk, releasing his grasp. "Oh, we're gonna have fun together."

. . .

The next day, Y/N can't stop squirming. 

It's to the point where her co-workers notice that she's jumpier than normal, clumsy in her icing and piping when she's normally spot-on and nearly perfect in her efforts. She hears from Harry a few times throughout the day — he texts her in the morning and during his lunch break, checking in to see how she's doing, and it makes her entire body swarm with butterflies. He asks if she's eating a proper lunch (she's not), scolds her for it (which she secretly enjoys), and then tells her he'll make her something for her to take to work tomorrow.

Thankfully, she doesn't have a closing shift today, so she's done at a little past 6 pm. It's to her surprise, though, when she's peeling off her flour-coated apron, she spots Harry standing outside the bakery, a cozy cardigan and a graphic t-shirt covering his body. 

Y/N has to do a double take. He didn't say anything about meeting her at work this evening, but he has to be here for her, doesn't he? 

After sliding her jacket on and grabbing her tote bag, she exits the bakery, closing the glass door behind her gingerly. Harry turns, his eyes lighting up when he sees her.

"Hey," he greets with a grin, "Have a good day at work?"

"Um, yeah, it was alright. Sorry, did we say you would pick me up? I must've forgotten—"

"Oh, no," Harry shakes his head as he jerks his head in the direction of his car, reaching out to slide her bag off of her shoulder. He takes it into his hand, his fingers wrapping around the canvas strap as she shuffles to keep up. "I finished making dinner a little early, figured I'd meet you here. Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's really nice of you, thank you."

Harry hums as they approach his car. He unlocks the doors and they both get in, but he leans over before she has a chance to buckle herself up, clicking her seatbelt in. It's a small act that makes the butterflies return, but she doesn't comment on it as he starts the engine and begins the short drive back to hers. 

"I made us some veggie pasta for dinner tonight. Does that sound good?" 

"Delicious," Y/N replies honestly as she watches blurs of warm-toned leaves go by. "Thank you again."

A soft smile appears on his lips as he pulls onto her road. "Of course. How are you feeling?" 

"I'm alright. A little tired. Nervous, to be honest."

Harry chuckles and briefly glances over at her, "Yeah? Nothing to be nervous about. We'll take it slow."

She shuffles in her seat and wedges her hands between her thighs. "Just don't want you to judge me, is all."

"I won't, but we did manage to forget to have the conversation on hard sexual limits. Do you mind listing yours?"

She nods. She's done this dance enough times to know the importance of discussing this subject matter, though she doubts there's much Harry could do that wouldn't be a turn-on for her.

"Um, any bathroom things, fisting, foot stuff... I'm fine with anal as long as we agree upon doing it beforehand. And if you're going to inflict physical pain on me, that's fine, but I'd prefer it if we built up to it — so, like, starting with spanking then the belt or a paddle." 

"Sure, that makes perfect sense. I like to have conversations with my subs after we do a scene, so we can see how you feel about what we did," he pulls into a parking spot outside of her home, yanking the key from the ignition, "And, just so you know — no anal tonight and no spanking unless you deserve it."

He taps her cheek gently with his spare hand and she flushes as she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car. She follows him up to her front door and fishes her keys from the pocket of her jacket, unlocking it and stepping inside.

"Are y'alright with the traffic light system?" Harry questions as he sets her bag down on the slim table placed in the entryway.

"Yeah. My safe word is yarn, just FYI."

He wrinkles his eyebrows and pulls a few to-go containers out from his own bag. He opens his mouth to question her but she puts her hand up to stop him. 

"I like to crochet. Don't make fun of me for it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry murmurs, traipsing in the direction of her kitchen, "Go change out of your work clothes and put something pretty on for me, angel girl."

She's happy to comply, immediately feeling giddy at Harry telling her what to do from the get-go. When she gets upstairs and to her bedroom, she meanders over to the drawer she has for evenings like this. It's filled with lacy bodysuits and ruffly underwear, knee high socks, and pastel lingerie. Eager to rid her body of the jeans and sweater she wore all day, she opts for a sheer pink bralette and matching shorts that barely cover her bum. It's a sweet set that she personally likes, but she can't help the slight worry that Harry won't enjoy it as much as she does.

She's already meandering into her little headspace as she heads back downstairs. Harry's already plated up their dinner, complete with small servings of a side salad. He looks up as soon as he hears her soft padding across the length of the living room, his jaw falling slack at her appearance.

"Look at you," he coos, standing from the couch and closing the distance between them, "You look beautiful."

Y/N licks her lips, keeping her gaze low. She feels herself slipping, but for once, she's not scared of letting it happen. 

"What's wrong, little one?" Harry asks gently, pressing his pointer finger and thumb to her chin, raising her head, "Are you feeling small already?"

She nods, her eyes round.

"Mm, that was quick. Just from daddy taking care of you and putting on these pretty little clothes, huh?"

Again, she nods.

"Alright. Let's get some food in your belly and then daddy can play with you a bit?" 

This time, she shakes her head.

"No? No scene tonight?" Harry guesses through furrowed brows. 

"Wanna play now, please."

"Ahhhh," he nods, understanding now that she's looking to skip out on dinner. "Gotta eat first, baby. Then we'll play."

Y/N pouts and he chuckles, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her towards the couch. 

"C'mon. You can sit in my lap, hm?" 

Still in the trousers he wore to work today, Harry settles back against the couch. He pulls her body into his, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"Is this good?" he asks softly, catching the shell of her ear. 

"Yes." she peeps, nibbling on her lip. 

"Alright baby, grab your food for me. Gotta eat at least half before we do anything." 

Wringing her hands in her lap, Y/N doesn't move. Harry runs his fingertips along the length of her arm, nosing at her shoulder. 

"Would you... daddy, I..."

Her voice trails off and his heart squeezes, eager to coax whatever she's trying to say out of her. 

"Ask, honey. Use your words." he encourages tenderly. 

She forces the words out, even if they feel humiliating despite her clouded head. "Can you feed me, please?" 

Harry hums. He won't say it in the moment because he can tell the request was difficult to muster out, but his entire body feels infinitely softer. He leans forward to grab her serving, scooping some pasta on the fork. 

"Y'gonna be good and eat for me now?" 

She nods, "I will. Thank you, daddy."

He murmurs out a you're welcome, continuing the quiet pattern of feeding her, watching her chew and swallow, and going back for more. He doesn't let her get off without eating a few bites of salad, chuckling gently at her quiet protests.

"Still feeling good?" Harry asks, setting her empty bowl back on the coffee table. 

"Mhm. Playtime now?" 

He smiles and nods, carefully shimmying her body off his lap. "Why don't you go upstairs and wait for me? Daddy needs to eat too."

Y/N shakes her head and sinks to the carpet, pressing her chin to his knee. "Wanna be close, please."

"Yeah?" Harry chuckles, grabbing his own bowl of pasta, "Okay, baby, you can sit there but no touching. I know you're nearly gagging for my cock."

He watches as she shivers, nibbling on her bottom lip and shifting her position slightly so her cheek is smushed against his thigh. He laughs quietly and threads his fingers through her hair, quickly eating his own portion. He can't deny that he's just as excited to get started — he, too, has been thinking about this all day, deciding what positions he'd fold her body into, if he'd edge her or overstimulate her with orgasm upon orgasm. He didn't want to fully push her limits so quickly — he wanted to create a foundation of trust between each other, but he couldn't help the inevitable daydreams that clouded his day. 

He finishes his food quickly, tapping her head playfully to alert her that he's done. She lifts her head and he takes in her moony gaze, his heart thumping quickly in his chest at how sweet she looks. 

"Upstairs, bunny. Hands and knees, bum in the air, okay?" He plucks at her bottom lip as he grants her guidance, her eyes fluttering shut, relieved to finally be getting instructions. She scurries up to her bedroom, listening to Harry putter around as he places their dirty dishes in the sink. As he asks, she lets her knees meld into the foamy texture of the mattress. With her cheek pressed against the pillow, she folds her legs and maneuvers her lower half into his requested position.

It feels like an eternity before Y/N hears Harry enter the room, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't move to remove any of his clothes, instead kneeling onto the bed behind her. 

"You've been doing so good for daddy, haven't you, baby?" 

She knows it's a rhetorical question but she nods into the plushy pillow, wiggling her butt. He chuckles and allows his palms to roam the expanse of her skin, from the bottoms of her thighs up to the swell of her ass. She keens at the feel of his touch, already obsessed with the way his large hands fit over her body.

"We won't be doing too much tonight, but I'll be asking for your color consistently. I want you to use your safe word at any point you deem necessary. Is that clear?"

Y/N nods her head and hums, though her answer is slightly muffled by the fluff of the pillow. 

He continues rubbing slow circles into the globes of her ass, intent on getting her to feel as relaxed as possible. He can tell she's excited — he is, too — but above anything, he wants her to be calm. 

"I brought some toys and things for us to play with," Harry continues, her ears perking up, "Can you tell me your color for each of them? It's perfectly okay if it changes at some point. I'd just like an idea of what you want."

Y/N has never had someone care this much — every time a dominant brought a toy to a session, he'd thrown it in there haphazardly. A vibrator turned up way too high, terribly knitted rope and, the worst by far, a butt plug that wasn't lubed whatsoever. 

So she's keening over the care Harry puts into his role, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as he shuffles off the bed for a moment and slings the tote bag onto the comforter. She still can't see a thing that he's doing, but as she floats into a comfortable cloudy mindset, she becomes more and more content with letting him make the rules. 

"Okay, baby. Know you want daddy to make the decisions but I need you to be good for me and tell me what you're comfortable with," Harry murmurs, his fingertips dancing along the soft material of her waistband. He doesn't dip below or tug them down; it more so feels like a reminder of what can come if she's good. "Tying your wrists with silk ties. Color?"

Her pussy pulsates at the immediate vision of her arms tied high above her head, unable to touch herself or him. "Mm. Green." 

"And what about your legs? Are you okay with rope, or would you prefer silk down there, too?"

"Either one, daddy. Green for both." 

Harry hums, dipping down to slowly press light kisses down the length of her spine. She shivers at the sensation of his soft lips making contact with her skin for the first time. "A vibrator for your cute little pussy?"

"Green," she whimpers as his hands find purchase on her hips.

"Can daddy use his mouth on you?" he asks, the low vibrations of his voice making her core leak with arousal. "On your pussy?" 

"Yes, yes," Y/N nearly pleads, bucking her hips up against his grasp. He tuts softly, and she can imagine the way his tongue flicks up against his two front bunny teeth, a look of disappointment painted over his face. 

"Be patient, bunny. Don't need you squirming around just 'cos you wanna be touched." 

She wants to groan out when he removes his hands from her skin but resists the urge, especially because he just told her to be patient (something Y/N has never been good at). She feels like it's a punishment in and of itself — he's barely done anything, but she can still feel the phantom kisses he placed down her back, and the skin stretching over her hips somehow feels lonely without his large palms pawing at it. 

"On your back." Harry suddenly instructs. She's quick to obey, rolling over onto the plush duvet. He's fast in his movements and already kneeling above her, wrapping her wrists together and fastening a bow with pink silk. "Have you used these before? Do you know how to get out of them if you need to?"

Y/N nods. She knows that she can simply pull her wrists apart to quickly dissolve the knot, instantly freeing herself. 

"Good girl. Daddy's gonna use rope for your legs, okay? Use your safe word or red if you need."

She has to admit, she's immediately impressed with Harry's apparent knowledge of bondage. She's been tied up many times before, but if she had to guess how many times someone's properly tied her hands, breasts, or legs with rope, it would likely only be once or twice. 

A wet gasp leaves her mouth when she realizes Harry isn't just tying her ankles down to the bed post. Instead, he's pressing her calves into the backs of her thighs, the slight burn of the rope pressing into her flesh in the most delicious way. Although she's able to close her legs, the knots still remove most of her mobility, especially with her arms tucked above her head.

After finishing with her legs, Harry stands from the bed, still in his tee-shirt and trousers. He admires his work from above with a devilish smirk on his face, making Y/N's skin warm.

"Aren't you just a wet dream?" he mocks lightly, trailing his fingertips up and along her knee, "All tied up and absolutely useless, hm? Can't even get out of bed, can you?"

Y/N shakes her head, her bottom lip beginning to wobble at his teasing. Everything about the scene is already so intense, the build-up so delicious and consuming and— fuck, he hasn't even touched her yet.

"You just need your daddy to do everything for you, don't you?" Harry continues, kneeling into the mattress. His hands find the insides of her thighs and he pushes them apart, but his eyes don't even fall to her core, instead keeping them square on her wide-eyed gaze. "Helpless little baby, aren't you? Say it. Say your daddy's helpless baby."

"I'm— I'm daddy's helpless baby." she stammers out, her tongue heavy in her mouth. 

"Are you gonna cry already, bunny?" he asks, his lips curling up into a wicked smirk, "Haven't even fuckin' done a thing and you're crying over being tied up. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Wanted daddy to make all your choices? Get all cock dumb and drunk on my cum?"

She nods futilely. She doesn't even realize the wetness pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she feels tears leaking steadily as soon as he mentions it. 

"P-please daddy. Wanna be touched."

"Ah, so you do have some thoughts going on up there."

It seems like maybe that's all it takes for Harry to finally cease his mocking, digging into the tote bag at the side of the bed to produce a silicone vibrator. It's light blue and long, with a bulbous head at the tip that she assumes is for stimulating the spongey spot deep inside of her.

He finds a spot between her thighs, kneeling back on his ankles. His hands move up her inner thighs and to the creases of where her legs meet her core, the sheer fabric of her pale pink shorts immediately giving way to the wetness seeping from her hole. Harry nearly groans out at that, the sight going straight to his rock hard cock being strained by layers of clothing. 

With a feather light touch, he thumbs over her clit through the material. She immediately jolts and he chuckles, moving his finger to gently stroke over her mound. 

"Desperate little thing. Begging for daddy's touch."

"Yes," Y/N mewls at the top of the bed, wiggling against the rough rope, "I need it daddy, please, touch me, I've been so good—"

"Have you?" he asks, retrieving his hand, "All you've done is do as I've asked. If anything, I'm the one that should get rewarded, don't you think? Picked you up from work, fed you, tied you up... sounds like you're just being greedy to me."

"I'm not— t-that is being good, daddy, I didn't touch myself like you said a-and I've earned it, please."

She's fully crying now, tears leaking from her eyes in steadfast streams that it actually makes Harry feel bad. She hasn't even stopped her begging by the time he's pulling her shorts down to reveal her weeping pussy, a soft tsk leaving his mouth.

"Stop pleading, bunny, I'll give you want you're so desperate for," Harry says, grabbing the vibrator. He'd initially planned to work her with his fingers before pressing the toy against her clit and pushing it inside, but he hasn't even spread her open and he can already see the creamy arousal coating her lips. He thinks that if he teases her for much longer, she may just disintegrate into the bed. 

So instead, because he's him and he's not a nice dom, he cranks it onto the medium setting and nudges it up against her clit. She instantly gasps out and jerks her hips up at the vibrations, a near-yell leaving her throat. He's aware that every person is different and it'll take him some time to learn her body, but with the way that her legs are already shaking as he uses more pressure to press the toy against the bundle of nerves, he thinks he he's getting somewhere.

"Are you gonna cum already?" Harry asks, his eyebrows knitted together as his eyes rake over her body. Her own eyes are scrunched up, her lips parted as small whimpers escape her throat, beads of sweat beginning to tumble down the slopes and curves of her skin — it's a sight, and he wishes to commit it to memory.

"Y-yes," she admits, nodding quickly, "Can I? Please?"

In response, he transfers the vibrator to his left hand and slowly pushes a finger into her pulsating hole. 

"Go ahead."

He strokes once or twice against her g-spot with his finger before she's crumbling, her chest concave with haphazard breaths and her back arched. Moans readily fall from her lips, her pussy squeezing his finger so tight it nearly makes him cum on the spot.

As Y/N comes down from her peak, she recalls Harry saying that they weren't doing anything too crazy today, so she wonders if that's it. If so, she supposes that's fine, but she thinks she'll over him a blowie, offering to let him fuck her face while she's still tied up with silk and rope.

Instead, he cranks the vibrator up another setting and pushes a second finger inside, eliciting a broken groan from her chest.

"Again." Harry instructs, curling his fingers deep inside of her.

"O-oh," Y/N whimpers with shaking thighs and a dizzy head, "Daddy, I—"

"Again, bunny." he repeats, quickening the pace of his fingers. "I want another one. Now."

She quickly realizes that she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to reject Harry, because it only takes a few more pumps of his digits until she's squeezing him again. She's never had two orgasms so close together and she finds that this one is more intense, her muscles not even fully relaxed as they contract around him once again.

Her eyes are still closed when he removes his fingers and she thinks she hears a faint sucking noise, though she can't be sure. He lowers the vibrator setting but keeps it flush against her clit, despite the way her pussy is all but begging for a break.

"Color." Harry demands, his hand finding the backside of her knee. 

"G-green," she hiccups through tear-stained cheeks, "Can keep going, daddy. Please."

He nods once, lowering so his stomach is pressed against the mattress now. He finally clicks the toy off and pushes it to the side, pausing his assault on her core before spreading her lips open with his fingers. 

"Jesus, you're fuckin' pretty," he mutters, watching as her hole pulsates from two back-to-back orgasms. He spits, the saliva landing on her spread slit, making her gasp. "Who owns this pussy, bunny?"

Y/N's chest is heaving, but she still manages his honorific through wet, splotchy cheeks.

"Say it again." he commands before leaning forward to lick a fat stripe from her hole to her clit. 

"It's yours, daddy." she whispers, her hands forming tight fists above her form.

"Good girl. That's what I want you to say when you cum next, okay?" 

She doesn't have a chance to question yet another orgasms as his tongue makes contact with her pussy, moaning deeply. He's already obsessed with her taste and she's sure she's never had someone go down on her with this much vigor. She's gulping for air when his tongue darts in and out of her hole before licking up to her clit, lips wrapped around the nub as he sucks harshly, whines sounding from her mouth at the sensitivity. 

Y/N has never understood the phrase "making out with her pussy" until this exact moment.

She doesn't even know if he's coming up for air much, but he's quick to figure out the pattern that makes her thighs shake. Messy sounds come from below as he slurps at the arousal leaking from her, using the width of his tongue to lick upwards to her clit over and over again. 

"Daddy!" Y/N squeals, jerking her hips involuntarily, only to be pressing her core even closer to his mouth, "Please, I— I think—"

"Cum." he mutters into her, suckling at her clit with such fervor that Y/N genuinely thinks she may pass out. 

She doesn't, though, but the intensity of her orgasm claws up her body rapidly, loud cries bubbling up her throat as she repeats clamors of, "it's yours daddy, your pussy, it's yours."

She feels him press chaste kisses against her mound as he gently begins to untie the ropes, slowly easing her legs out of their angled positions. Once they're free, he helps her stretch them outward, continuing his trail of kisses up her body until he's straddling her waist between his thighs.

"Color," Harry murmurs, reaching up to release his wrists from the silk. Her eyes are set on the bulge in his pants and he gently taps her cheek, "Bunny, tell me your color."

"Green, daddy. That looks like it hurts."

She uses her newly freed hands to point at his crotch and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

"I'm fine, lovebug. Are you sure you're still green? Looking quite floaty."

"I am," Y/N lulls her head to the side, leaning it against her shoulder as she circles her wrists, "Wanna keep going though. 'm okay."

"Do you remember your safe word?" he questions, grabbing one of her wrists and pressing soft kisses into the skin. 

"Mhm."

"What is it?"

"Yarn. 'cos I like to crochet."

Harry grins, relieved that she isn't too far off the deep end. He finds her to be especially adorable when she's in her little space, the moony gaze in her eyes removing any traces of stress from her day-to-day life.

"That's right, baby," he replies, pulling off his tee-shirt. "Daddy's gonna fuck you now. Is that alright?"

"Yes, please. But I don't think I wanna cum again."

He hums and nods, unbuckling his pants and kicking them off his legs, "That's perfectly fine, bunny. You got daddy so hard that I don't think it'll take much for me to cum."

Y/N giggles at that and makes grabby hands at him, making him chuckle. "Off, please," she says, pointing to the briefs straining his cock. 

"You're such a polite little girl, did you know that?" Harry asks as he pushes his underwear down, settling in between her legs.

"Daddy's polite girl." 

If his cock wasn't painfully hard right now, he might've laughed at her repeating his words. Unfortunately, an hour of overstimulating Y/N and watching her writhe beneath his grasp, all tied up with no choice but to just take it — he's shivering at the images of it, and he knows he needs to cum within the next five minutes or his dick will surely fall off. 

"Gonna push in, okay?" Harry asks softly, rubbing circles into her hip, "Remember, tell me if you need to stop. Daddy will always listen to you."

Y/N nods her head, blinking away the leftover moisture in her eyes from her bout of cries earlier. She knows that if she didn't feel so comfortable with him, there's no way she would be this far in her little space right now, where she just wants him to take and take until he's satisfied. It's maybe happened three or four times in the past with a dom she had that was actually pretty good, but she knows now doesn't even begin to measure up with Harry. 

When his cock pops through her tight walls, it's a bit of a stretch, but she's wet enough with arousal from three orgasms that it barely burns. Instead, she finds herself enjoying the way her core adapts to his shape — not to mention, he looks gorgeous above her with his eyes squeezed closed and his jaw dropped in a quiet groan. 

When she doesn't safe word, Harry starts to move. He takes it slow, knowing that if he immediately starts to pump the full of his length inside of her, it may cause her more pain than pleasure, regardless of how small she's feeling. Her plushy lips part as moans begin to fall from them, hooking her ankles behind his form to bring him closer. 

"You're so big, daddy," Y/N breathes out, a strangled whimper coming from Harry. "I love it, I love having you inside me."

"Yeah? My little girl wants her daddy's cock in her all the time?" He pushes through grit teeth, his jaw flexing as he begins to quicken his strokes, "Tell me, bunny. Tell me how much you want daddy."

"Oh—," she mewls as he begins to brush up against her g-spot, "I want it always daddy, I-I need it— oh, god— please daddy, please—"

"Sweet little girl sounds so pretty when she begs," He says as he takes one of his palms and presses it against her lower stomach, "This pretty pussy is mine now. You hear me? It's daddy's pussy."

"Yes, yes— fuck, it's yours daddy!"

Harry growls — actually growls — and shifts his hand down to smack against her clit, a throaty moan falling from Y/N's mouth. 

"Dumb little babies don't curse," he snaps, slapping her clit once more, "Or do you wanna be punished? Not get any of daddy's cum?"

She shakes her head quickly, her eyes nearly rolling back at the sting of pain radiating through her core. "I want it, please!"

"Yeah? Beg for it, bunny."

She does — she pleads and begs and all but grovels on her hands and knees until Harry pulls out and pumps his cock over her, ropes of warm cum painting the skin of her stomach all the way up to her chest. There's so much (like an impressive amount, Y/N thinks), and she wants to scoop it up and taste it, but Harry grabs her wrist and gives her a look before she can. 

"If you do that, you will have to call out of work tomorrow."

She giggles and nibbles on her bottom lip, the little headspace she's swimming in telling her to disobey him. He sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the tee-shirt he was wearing earlier and swiping it over her body, ridding her of his cum. 

"You're a naughty little thing," he mumbles, tossing the tee-shirt to the floor — he makes a mental note to throw her bedding and everything in the wash once she's out of her little space. "C'mon baby, up. Gonna take a bath now." 

"With you, right?" Y/N mumbles with heavy eyes. He nods as he leans down to scoop her up in his arms, guiding them to the bathroom. He sits her on the toilet and she frowns, making him roll his eyes. 

"You don't want a UTI. This isn't a sex thing, just pee while I run you a bath."

She does but only because he tells her to, and she knows she'll feel embarrassed about this tomorrow, but she's okay with it right now. He busies himself with turning the water and making sure it's warm before plugging the drain. 

"I brought some bubble bath and epsom salts with me but it's in my bag. Can I leave you while I go get those?" 

Again, Y/N nods wordlessly and he leans down to press a kiss to her hair. She flushed and wipes while he's gone, and he returns while she's washing her hands. 

Harry knows it feels oddly domestic of them to be naked and prepping to take a bath together after an intense scene, especially since this is the first time they've done this. In the back of his mind, he wonders if they should've talked through the implications of them beginning this type of relationship — a ruined friendship being one of them — and he knows it was selfish of him to forgo that conversation altogether. 

He ignores his worries and instead helps her into the bubble bath once it's ready, tucking his body in behind hers as soon as she's situated. It's silent between them for the first time in hours as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, lightly massaging her shoulders. 

"How are you feeling?" He finally asks after a few moments of quiet. 

"Tired," she mumbles, laying back against his broad chest. He can't tell if she's still floaty by her one-word response so he continues rubbing her back, allowing her to sink into the warmth of the bath.

They don’t speak again after that, not until the water goes cold and Y/N almost falls asleep in the comfort of his arms. In the meantime, he makes sure to gently swirl a clean washcloth over her skin, using his favorite lavender scented body wash, and wash her knotty hair. All the while he whispers how special she is, how she’ll never be too much, but especially not to him. He decides it’s okay if she doesn’t hear him because she’s too out of it, but hopes that his words at least seep into her subconscious so she believes the same. 

[carolmunson]

caught like a fool without a line. (older!modern!eddie)

part five of who knows how many. orange colored sky setlist.

summary: we've been seeing eddie for a month and the fear starts to settle in. with eddie's past and present making things difficult and your own insecurities brewing, things come to a bit of a head one night when you're out at a bar. featuring older!robin and our favorite guy older!steve from @loveshotzz series 'all i really want is you'.

tw: age gappy (reader and eddie are 12 years apart, but reader is late late 20s/early 30s and eddie and late late 30s/early 40s throughout this story so it's not like so bad). drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, discussions of eddie's promiscuous past (i know some people don't like when eddie is a slut), implied that reader wears eddie's clothes to bed but not that reader is small. gifs by: @keerysbrandnewbg and @eddiemunsonsource

songspiration: open | rhye and feelings | lauv

You swirled the big ice cube in the tumbler with an unenthusiastic flair, making the orangey red liquid in the glass nearly spill. “And I don’t get it, we had a really nice first date and then made out again the next week and talked all the time and now he’s barely texting me back,” you complain, the tart grapefruit of your friend’s new take on an Aperol Spritz floods your mouth at your next sip.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” your friend Charlie suggests from behind the bar, “He’s older, you said, right? He might just not be on his phone as much. Do you like the drink? Is it too bitter?” 

“It’s bitter but not in a bad way, in a good citrussy way,” you nod, “And yeah he might not be on his phone as much but then why just sort of suddenly drop off and barely respond? Like, look at this.” You take out your phone, laying it on the bar and scrolling through a plethora of blue texts with some sprinkles of gray in between, “I look so pathetic.” “I think you just really like him,” she shrugs, smirking, “And I think that’s good, you haven’t been this excited about someone for a little bit.” “Yeah, but every time I’m excited about someone it bites me in the ass,” you lean on the palm of your hand, flipping your phone over, “Plus like, I’m not trying to be with anyone like that right now.” 

Your friend gives you a look, “Okay, sure.” 

“What do you mean ‘okay, sure’?” you scoff. 

“You’re not trying to be with anyone like your ex,” Charlie corrects, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, “You go on and on about how you just want someone to take care of things for you. Maybe he’s that kind of dude.” 

“He has someone come every Sunday to clean his house for him,” you sip the drink again, “I don’t think he can take care of anything for me, considering I can clean my own house.”  The bar slowly starts to fill up with the after work crowd, leaving Charlie to run back and forth between you and pouring beers for incoming patrons.

“He can afford to have someone come and clean his house,” she says with a smirk, holding down the tap while she fills a glass with Lagunitas, "That's kind of hot." You flip your phone back over and sigh, no new messages.

If anything is true in the music and art world Eddie is involved in it's that Eddie Munson is a professional loverboy. Never with someone for too long, never long enough for them to want something more than fun -- never long enough for 'Are you my boyfriend?' never long enough for 'What are we?' It got easier the older he got, the less women and men cared about labels. You were right to make that judgement about his key carabiner hanging on the front of his keys. Eddie Munson is a slut, and everyone knows it but you.

He had two actual girlfriends in his early twenties, but nothing quite like his friendship with Steve. 'Platonic life partner, sometimes,' they'd list it as -- never too afraid to get affectionate. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, Eddie held him so many nights when Emma died he felt like they left an indent in the center of the bed. He touched and loved the people who loved him back, but to anyone else – he never wanted to get too close. He always gave out just enough of him – enough for people to keep wanting more, a satisfaction he basked in now since he was such a loner in high school with no notches to his belt. 

But now he’s blabbering on to Robin over a huge plate of nachos about how you texted him all day. You texted him all day and he had his phone charging in the kitchen while he was upstairs in his office so he didn’t know and now it’s very clear that you’re upset. 

"Okay? How is this different from the girl you were seeing over Christmas?" Robin laughs over a mouthful of loaded nachos, a frosty pink Frosé next to her to beat the heat. Her eyes crinkle closed, a smattering of freckles stretching on the apples of her cheeks when she smiles. The heat of a sunburn runs soft pink over her nose, outside of the gray in her sand blonde hair that she'll never dye, she looks almost the same as she did in high school. “So you didn’t text her back,” she shrugs, “You leave her alone, she fades off into the distance – just like the girl before that, and the guy before that, and the girl before that. Why're you talking about it like it's the end of the world?”  "I care," he groans, turning his phone to show Robin your messages. You'd sent them every few hours, but most of the messages from the morning and afternoon were from when he was working -- phone nestled on the charger down in the kitchen while he clacked away on code upstairs. By the time he saw them he was embarrassed, and you were probably already at your friend's bar. Eddie tries to explain the whole situation while Robin scrolls through with a careful and soft expression, a tiny smile forming on her face. 

“I already fucked it up,” Eddie sighs, pulling his hair up into a ponytail with volume hair stylists would envy. He runs his hand over his jaw, following the edge of it to land behind his neck where he squeeze gently on the muscle.

Robin shrugs again, passing his phone back to him, “Par for the course, kid.” 

His eyes narrow, “I’m older than you.” 

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “You always fuck it up, Ed. That's your thing. You walk into a room and someone leaves crying. You've never done the whole sappy love thing with someone, why do you think you're changing your tune now?”

“I know but – fuck Robin, I didn’t even sleep with her yet,” he says a little louder than he intends. His tattooed hand wraps around the Pilsner glass in front of him, dripping in condensation, bringing it to his lips.

“That’s a new development,” she raises her brows, crossing her legs, "You never wait this long."

“I just…I don’t…I shit – I don’t know.” 

“What did Steve say?” Robin asks, teeth biting down on the straw to her drink, “He always has good girl advice.” 

“I haven’t even told Steve.” 

“At all?!” she nearly spits out the frose all over the nachos.

“Rob we just buried Em,” he explains softly, “Like, she’s not even fuckin’ cold yet. I can’t just come out of the woodwork five months later like ‘Hey man, think I actually met a girl I’d consider a future with. We’ve been seeing each other for a month’. And like – what if I’m just psyching myself out? What if this is just an early midlife crisis?” 

Robin takes a slow sip, nodding while he speaks before taking a pause. “Ed, I think you’ll feel better if you tell Steve,” she offers, “I think he’d get your head straight about it. But in the meantime, you should text her back.”

“What do I even say?” he huffs, shoving a loaded nacho into his mouth.  “Try honesty with a woman for once in your entire life, Rockstar boy,” Robin plasters on a customer service smile that makes him let out a frustrated ‘tsss’, “It won’t kill you.” "Here, I'll text Nance and ask her -- she's our next best bet," Robin takes out her phone and types with the fervor of a teenager with a sugar high. Eddie sips his beer, looking at the screen of his phone while the cursor to type blinks back at him.

You stumble out of the bar, too crowded now to have fun with your friend. Over tired and over served you make your way down the street and around the corner, stopping to lean against the brick wall of a different bar when you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You take a minute, taking in your surroundings. People are so loud down here, and everyone is so pretty. Street lights are there and gone and there and gone as cars whiz passed on Delancey, the bustle of the Friday night life in the LES is a buzz with excitement. You're already a little down for the count. Your phone feels like a paper weight in your hand, sighing with satisfaction at the notificaiton on the screen. But your chest still aches with annoyance, how many times were you gonna get drunk at a bar with a swollen heart over some dumb boy? Man? Guy?

You don't want him to come save you, you know how to get home. You can see the green bulbs of the train entrance and the glow of the McDonalds 'M' on the corner in the distance. Down the stairs, one train into Brooklyn, cross platform transfer -- you've done it drunker than this countless times before. You text Charlie with an air of victory before putting your phone back in your smart black faux leather bag slung over your shoulder. The warm summer air flows over your legs, catching the hem of your a-line skirt -- the light material flowing in the breeze. Time isn't working quite right for you but it feels like it's been five minutes and he hasn't shown up, so you make your way to the edge of the corner to cross.

"Whoa there, Peach," you hear Eddie's gruff voice from the side of you, the pull on your arm the same as when he steadied you at Trader Joe's a month ago, "Careful now."

You pull out of his hold, glassy eyes focused on the black and white stripes on the street ahead of you, "I know what I'm doin'."

“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks softly. Eddie steps in front of you, guiding you to the light post to get out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Home,” you slur, “M’goin home. Trainssright there.” 

“I don’t think you’re good to take the train,” his voice is gentle, hand coming out to hold you at the waist, “I can get you a car.” 

“I’m fine.” It's the only sentence that comes out lucid, his jaw ticks.

"You don't look fine," he looks down into your glassy eyes, a look he's seen before. The way his mama would drown herself in whiskey and stumble into the kitchen so the bruises would't hurt so bad. The way an old fling would slur to him about how she can't live without him. The way you look so sad and it's his fault.

"I'm. Fine," you reiteratie. The light changes, the bright white of the walk sign flashes across the street. You go to pass him but his hands place themselves on your shoulders. "You really wanna get boiled alive on the train?" he asks with a smile, "You don't wanna take a car?" You sigh, why does he have to be so handsome? The gin from your last two drinks travels from your head to your thighs, pulling them together at the sight of his smile. He has that ratty vest on, a CBGC t-shirt sticking to him under it, the sleeves completely torn off. He smells like cedar and citrus again, a hint of a left over cigarette. His grays catch the light of the over head lamp, bouncing like tinsel in his pony tail sitting on the crown of his head. "Can we go to your house?" you ask, voice raised a higher octave than normal. His face blanches, "Aw honey, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to think that I --" "Please?"

"Thanks, have a good night," Eddie waves off the delivery man with a smile as he rides away on his bike. With plastic in hand he makes his way back up the stairs where you've set up shop on one of the stools in his kitchen, head down on the island counter.

"Food's here," he says quietly. Dealing with drunk you was very much like dealing with drunk Robin in the early 2010s, overgrown toddler in a bad mood. You let out a half hearted 'Yay', head coming up, eyes half closed in the kind of sleepiness a few mixed drinks and some beers can send you into. He goes into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Poland Spring and a beer for himself. The waters get placed in front of you while he tends to getting the food plated up.

You ignore the water -- Blue Moon bottle staring right at you, and to be honest -- a cold cirtussy beer sounds sooo good right now. You reach forward, the glass ice cold against your palm now that the liquor has fully settled, heating up your skin. The sound of glass on the counter cobbles through the kitchen when you slide it closer to you, alerting Eddie to the noise.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, snatching the bottle out of your hand, “Can you behave?” 

You pout when his eyes narrow at you, heart thumping guiltily in your chest, shame brewing in your skin. You nod back at him with sad eyes, a twinge plucking in your heart strings.

“Don’t give me that face,” he warns, “Don't act up."

“I don’t like when you’re mean,” you mumble softly, running your fingers in shapes over the butcher's block counter top. He sighs, plating your sandwich and pulling your fries from the bag. He kisses your temple while he slides the plate in front of you. "I'm sorry, honey," he says quietly, but gin always puts you in the mood to argue. "You don't have to talk to me like, like -- you don't have to talk to me -hic!- like I'm a kid," you hurtle out, surprised at your own gumption, "I'm not."

"I know," he says, putting the bags into his recycling bin under the sink, "I'm not talking to you in any kind of way Peach I -- " "You don't even like me," you state. His head cocks to the side, leaning on his hands while they hold on to the edge of the island. "Who said that?" "I was -hic!- I was talking to someone at the bar about --" you start, lump building in your throat, "About you and um -- they said, they said it sounds like --" Your eyes water, "Like I'm just for fun." "Oh," he says, looking down at his hands. The weight of this conversation falling into his stomach from his chest like a deep pit.

"Like I'm just fun for you to play with -- but like, you don't even wanna have -- you don'even wanna h-have-have seggzwithme so like -- you don't even like me." More and more if your insecurities flow out of you like a broken faucet, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

"And like you probably don't even think I'm pretty."

"Oh, baby, no," he coos, brows tilted in sympathy while you drunkenly let all your sober fears out, "I think you're so pretty."

"So pretty," you repeat, wiping your face with your hands, "But that's it."

Eddie takes a deep breath, coming over to you and pressing his warm soft lips to your cheek, "Let's talk about this in the morning, sweetheart. I'm gonna get upstairs ready for you."

"I should just go home," you sniffle, embarrassment starting to flow through you with your bloodstream, burning all your pores, "I'm sorry." "No, no, don't go home," he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek, "Stay. Just stay."

He makes sure you eat, watching you come back to yourself the fuller and more hydrated you get. You're easy to lead upstairs, pliant and tired now, needy almost -- not that you'd ever admit to it. You tease him about his 'old man pills' when he takes out his perscription high dose Motrin he got for some old back pain. Great for when you might get a killer hangover these days. You grimace at the Pedialyte mixture he has you drink before you get tucked into his bed -- out before you can even feel him grab the pillows and a throw from the other side of you. He settles in downstairs on the sectional, sighing while he thinks about the way your face scrunches when you're about to cry. He flicks through his Hulu options on the big screen in front of him but nothing really seems to catch his attention. Mind wandering to you asleep upstairs but knowing better than to crawl into bed next to you when you're not yourself enough to say it's okay. The familiar buzz of his phone goes off on the coffee table, when he picks it up his face is on the front screen while someone calls in on FaceTime. "You're callin' late, man," Eddie grins lazily, socked feet sticking out to rest on the worn walnut table in front of him, "You okay?" "Yeah me and Bandit just got in from camping. Got some pics of him to send you, he's such a scamp." "You have fun?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. Eddie's voice is quiet while he speaks making Steve's head cock to the side. The lights changes on his face while he walks from the living room to his bedroom. "Yeah we had a lot of fun," Steve starts, "Why're you whispering?" "What do you mean?" Eddie asks, getting up off the couch to pad back into the kitchen. "You're talkin' all quiet," Steve smirks, "You got a girl over or something?" Ed puts his phone down and huffs while he grabs a bag of chips from the cabinet. Steve giggle, leaning his head in closer to the screen. "You do, don't you?" he guffaws, "Am I interrupting?" "She's sleeping," Eddie says softly, picking up the phone again and leaning against the counter. "Aw, so you ended up texting her back? Good."

"What the fuck? Who told you that?" Eddie's brows furrow, spitting through a mouthful of chips. "Robin, obviously." The light changes on him again while he makes his way to his own kitchen. Bandit's little pants and huffs echoing into the phone, "You think Nancy came up with the 'Hey pretty girl,' opening? She's never been a flirt."

"Well it worked so, congrats."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Steve pulls his own bag of chips out. They crunch together. "It just didn't seem right," he shrugs, "Y'know with Emma it's hard to be like, 'Hey I think I might actually see a future with this girl I've only been seeing for a few weeks.' Like, you just lost the love of your life."

"I'm not gonna be sad to hear that you're into someone, Ed," Steve smiles softly, voice calm, "Tell me about her."

So he does, he tells Steve about how he kept running into you that day at Trader Joe's and how he felt so stupid for not waiting at the doors for you but he was too scared. You were so cute in your bike shorts and sneakers, so careful in how you chose the fruit you were gonna get. When he saw you on the platform he knew it was like he was getting a second chance -- "Maybe Em thought you should stop being such a whore and sent her over," Steve laughs. Ed rolls his eyes but can't hold back his chuckle, watching as Steve rests his chin on the heel of his hand while he listens. Eddie talks about the picnic date, how he immediately felt comfortable telling you about his mom. The rain, the kiss in his apartment -- how he could've fucked you but didn't. How all your little dates had gone since.

"Oh so you like her," Steve nods.

"I'm scared," Eddie says quietly. "Scared?"

"What if it's just a fluke and I hurt her? Or I get hurt?" Eddie asks, "And like -- please don't take this the wrong way but like -- what if I put in all this effort and then lose her?"

"Like how I lost Em?"

Eddie nods slowly, not wanting to say the quiet part out loud. He talks about what you said when you got back to his place, how you think he doesn't really like you, how he doesn't think you're pretty. You're just for fun. "But this doesn't feel like 'just for fun', does it?" Steve challenges gently, "Cause if she was just for fun you would've texted me about if she could deep throat or not."

Eddie chuckles darkly, pink rising on his cheeks -- Steve chuckles too. Still gross boys who are gross.

"You should tell her how you feel," he encourages, "What's the worst that can happen?" "Everything."

"Okay," Steve shrugs, "I lost everything. And what happened?"

"We all came to pick you up." "Exactly. We'll be here to pick you up, too. Don't like..." Steve sighs, "Don't just immediately throw something away just because you're not used to it. The more you stand there and think about what you want, the less she's gonna think you want it."

"I know..." "So let her know you want it."

They talk for an hour, both cozied up on their respective couches -- Bandit immediately getting in the frame and yelping at Eddie's face on the screen. The seize in Eddie's chest loosens because maybe this could be okay. Now he just has to make sure you know it.

You wake up the next morning, groggy and dry -- but thankfully not nearly as hungover as you were expecting. Your joints hurt, your stomach's a little jumbled, but no headache and that's what matters the most. You shift in his crisp sheets, turning around to see that the bed is empty next to you -- pillows and throw blanket gone with him. You slept alone. You look at your phone on the bedside table next to a full bottle of water. You chug it while you check your notifications -- 6:11 AM. If anything was true, you always woke up too early when you drank too much the night before. The water sits heavy in your belly, pressing your bladder which was already screaming for you to go to the bathroom. With a sigh you stand up, and when you do, the embarrassment of the night before settles in. Your emotional hangover.

You pad to the bathroom and pee, seeing your face in the mirror like you did the night you got rained out. Your makeup is smeared, face a little bloated -- you do your best to wash it off. The cool water feels good against your skin, still hot from the liquor and dehydration. You pat your face dry and leave the bathroom, lingering at the top of the stairs where he's laying on the couch, already awake. "G'morning," you rasp out. He perks up, head tilting up to look at you from his place in the living room. "Morning, peach," he smiles, "You feelin' okay?"

You nod, ungracefully stomping down the metal steps of the spiral staircase while you get your footing, "Your old man pills must be magic or something."

Eddie pulls back the blanket, scooching back against the cushions to make room for you to lay down next to him, "C'mere, baby."

C'mere, baby runs down your spine, making your throat catch. You make your way towards the couch, crawling in next to him. The living room is quiet, with just some early morning sun pooling into the windows -- like you two are the only people awake on the street this morning. He covers you up, wasting no time wrapping himself around you and pulling you into him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nod into his chest, the scent of his skin mixing with the faint smell of cirtus and cedar, "Did you?" "Normally I'm fine on the couch," he says, voice grizzly and sleepy, "But I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've slept on the couch or I --" "No, it's not that," he shakes his head, catching your gaze, "Probably would've slept better if you were next to me." Your cheeks burn, a smile splittling across your face, "Well I'm here now."

"You are," he nods, leaning up to run his thumb over the apple of your cheek where a stray piece of glitter sits. Remnants of your makeup that you couldn't wash away.

"I'm um...sorry for how I acted last night," you confess, "That's not like -- that's not how I am."

"Don't be sorry," he assures quietly, "I understand." You're both quiet for a moment, the hum of the central air fuzzing the silence between you. "You're not just for fun, peach," he says, a seriousness to his normally playful voice, "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." "I um -- I'm sorry I kind of went a little insane," you shrug, feeling small, "I didn't mean to text all those times and then come here and cry and like --" "Stop apologizing," he says, thumb grazing your lower lip to stop you, "You were just feeling a way, that's okay. I get it." He takes his thumb away, leaning down to give you a kiss that sends you reeling. Warm and soft, delicate. His hands lead his arms around you again, smiling when you reach up to cup his cheek. "I like you," Eddie smirks against your mouth. "I like you, too," you smile when he breaks away. "The deli's open on the corner if you want me to run over and get a bacon, egg, and cheese," he offers quietly. "Why do I feel like you were gonna do that anyway?" you ask in the same tone. "I was," he grins again, "I just wanted to impress you by asking." He sits up, clamboring over you to get some coffee started so it'll be done by the time he gets back. You wait patiently for him, rolling your eyes while he shoves his socked feet in his slides, leaving the house in his pajamas of a t-shirt and black joggers. You prepare the coffees, feeling domestic like you live here -- getting used to where things are already.

He comes back twenty minutes later, sighing when the air conditioning hits him as the door opens, "It's already like, 80 degrees."

"Gross," you reply, face scrunching in the way that he likes, "Coffee is ready." "Oh, thank you." His eyes glitter at the gesture, seeing that you used the same mugs from when he had you over the first time. Those are his favorites, but you'll learn that eventually. The sandwhiches are tossed on the butcher block counter where you cried last night, but your embarrassment melts away when you feel him wrap himself around you again -- like he can't get enough. "I'm playing a show on Thursday at House of Yes," he says, "They're doing a metal theme'd night." "Yeah?" you ask, hands reaching for the plastic baggy and taking out both of your sadwhiches wrapped in foil. His arms still tight around your middle while you maneuver around your kitchen. "You should come," he asks, kissing the top of your head, "I'll get you a ticket."

"I don't know if that's really my scene," you shrug, twisting in his hold to face him, "I'm not like -- I'm not cool and underground like that." "So?" he quirks his brow, "You can be cool and underground for one night to hang out with your hottie rockstar boy-toy."

"That's so gross that you described yourself that way," you laugh, pushing out of his hug and opening your sandwhich, "Like, so cringey, babe." "Babe," he repeats back to you, "I like that. You can call me 'babe' whenever you want." "Duly noted," you agree, teeth sinking into the bread of the roll and breaking into the warm and gooey center. The jumble in your stomach starting to fade away while the grease of the egg soothes it. Eddie takes his sandwhich and coffee to the living room, taking his phone off the coffee table to open up his text conversation with Steve:

she called me babe.

i literally can't even breathe right now.

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