#after just standing and making drinks and they apparently hardly even talked???

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…��

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

[gravestrain]

I don't know how to feel, but someday I might (qh43)

in which Quinn will do just about anything to help his sweet girl.

This is 2.6k words of Quinn angst/fluff. It involves his girlfriend dealing with hate comments online. There are some hurtful things said about weight and appearances. This is a fem reader, with mentions of wearing makeup and dresses. She/her pronouns are used. Felt a little down lately and wanted to cheer myself up with some sweet Quinn. I hope you all enjoy this <3

There was almost nothing in the world that was easier than loving Quinn Hughes.

With his heart of gold and smile to match it, you found yourself falling in love with him almost instantly. It would have been impossible not to. To know Quinn is to love him. You doubt that there is anyone in the world who has met Quinn and has not been mesmerized by his charm and his raw kindness. Even his toughest opponents and fiercest rivals have nothing but kind things to say about your boy.

You met Quinn three years ago while you were on a girls trip at a rented lake house in Michigan. When you first saw your neighbor for the weekend, you were so caught off guard you tripped over your own feet and spilled your drink all over your feet. Quinn was quick to throw the towel he was holding out of his hands and on to your body to help you clean up the sticky mess that was now covering your body. Never mind the fact that in a house full of lazy boys, there was no other clean towels. It was just what he wanted to do.

Over stumbled apologies and blushing words, you exchanged numbers with Quinn. Neither of you were foolish enough to hide your intentions. At this point, you had both known you were only going to be in town for the weekend, but Quinn did not care, and neither did you. Your intentions were always to continue to talk to Quinn, even after the close proximity was no longer.

And you did. It was months of Facetimes and silly texts, until finally Quinn played a game near your town. Quinn insisted you came, and when you saw him again in the tunnels after the game, you knew you would never be able to move on, and Quinn felt the same way.

The start of the new season found you moving to Vancouver with Quinn. You were able to find a job similar to yours that was only 20 minutes away from Quinn's house. The choice seemed like a no brainer. And if you thought dating Quinn was a gift, nothing could compare to living with him. He was silly and considerate, adventurous and attentive. You found yourself falling in love with him more and more each day.

You were no stranger to Quinn's spotlight. It became more and more apparent to you when you moved to Vancouver. Almost every block had a Canucks fan, Canucks memorabilia, often sporting your boyfriend's face, loud and proud.

You were no stranger to the comments that other girls would make in the stands of Canucks games, or even at the bar while you were tucked right in to Quinn's side. They found Quinn to be as beautiful and as breathtaking as you did, and they paid no mind to the fact that you were hooked on his arm, or wearing his last name across your back, or even sitting with his family. Their intentions were to be with Quinn. They did not find you as a threat. But many made it their intentions to let you know that they were a threat.

You were public on social media, but with hardly any mention of your faceless boyfriend being Quinn Hughes. However, being the captain's girlfriend had automatically put you in the public eye, despite the fact that both you and Quinn tried your hardest to keep it on the down low publicly. It was challenging for Quinn to be in the spotlight at times, even after so long of being in it, and he wanted to make sure he tried his hardest to ensure that that spotlight never graced your wings. There was so much trouble that came with it, trouble that Quinn never wanted to expose you to. Nevertheless, some fans persisted.

"This is what you wear to stand next to the captain of the Vancouver Canucks? Maybe try a little harder next time," a comment had graced your post of your outfit from a Canucks gala. Despite your insistence that Quinn didn't pay for much, it hardly ever worked. Quinn had bought you the most beautiful dress, with a price tag you could not fathom. His insistence was that he saw you eyeing it on social media from a post of a fashion show, and he wanted you to have it.

The dress instantly made you feel beautiful, and Quinn's gaze and charming words made you feel beautiful tenfold. It was almost devastating how that feeling had disappeared so fast, just by the words and actions of a few cruel individuals who had made it their life's mission to tear you down.

Just one comment wouldn't hurt so bad. Unfortunately, there was tens of comments that point out a few flyaways, the creasing of your concealer, the cellulite on your arms, the rolls of your hips. You had tried your hardest not to let them bother you. But it bubbled up inside like a bad stew. When you find the one that hurt the worst, it caused you to sink to a feeling worse than you had ever felt. The comment read: "I don't understand why Quinn would want to be with a fat girl who does not know how to present herself in public. She has no redeeming features."

You tried your hardest to hide the comments from Quinn. You knew he rarely checked social media, so you made a promise to never let him know what they said and how they bothered you. You tried to insist to yourself that it was minuscule, it shouldn't matter. But the state Quinn found you in when he returned from his road trip was nothing but minuscule. It was no position he had ever found you in.

When Quinn FaceTimed you two nights ago after their game in Anaheim, you were wearing one of his Canucks blue t shirts, curled up in bed with your dog. When he walked through your bedroom doors, he found you in the same place, wearing the same t shirt, sporting the same hairstyle. His heart sunk to his toes. Were you hurt? How could he help you? What caused you to get into this state?

When he found you, your eyes were closed, but he knew you weren't sleeping. You had your head intentionally turned towards the wall, so as to not face Quinn. But even without seeing your face, he knew something was seriously wrong. And at that point, all he wanted was to see your beautiful face, to give him a little reassurance as to how you were feeling.

Quinn rounded the corner of the bed, kneeling down on the floor next to your head. "Hi sweetness," he muttered, running his fingers down the slope of your face. "Can I see your eyes, please?" He asked, causing you to shake your head lightly. He hummed at your answer, not wanting to push, but also knowing he had to get to the bottom of this.

"I brought you some takeout, your favorite. I know you have that project due in a few days and I figured you would be hungry." He had left the food on the table downstairs when he walked in to a silent house. No singing to music, no clambering of kitchen cabinets, no playing with the dog, nothing. The silence was eerie to him.

"I'm not," you muttered out in your smallest voice, cracking from lack of use, and even lack of water in your throat. You had a few sips over the last two days, but once it ran out, you couldn't get yourself to fill it. One of the only things you could manage to do the past two days was let the dog out. No matter how bad you were suffering, your sweet dog did not deserve to be punished for that. You let him out in the backyard only, not wanting anyone to see you walking on the sidewalk and be alerted by your state. There were a few other WAGs who lived in yours and Quinn's neighborhood, and at any sight of your despair, you know Quinn would have been alerted immediately.

"I'd like it if you could eat a little bit, though. I'm sure you're hungry, and your voice sounds dry. Can I fill your cup for you?" He posed it as a question, but he intended to fill it regardless of your answer. You shrugged, and Quinn took that as a win. He woke up your dog, assuming he had to go out. He journeyed downstairs and filled your cup. He also just let the dog out in the back, but promised a long walk in the morning. He only hoped you would come. It was something the two of you loved to do, walking the dog together after he came back from road trips.

As Quinn stood outside, the cold air biting at his shoulders, he tried to rack his brain of what could have possibly happened while he was gone. Did he forget something important? Did you miss a deadline? Did something happen at home? Nothing seemed to make sense, even when he tried to make sense of them.

Your dog was nothing if not loyal, so as soon as Quinn opened the door to let him back in, he bolted up the stairs to the bedroom, nosing his way through the door and back on to the bed with you. You put your hands in his fur, hoping to find some comfort in him. Silent tears streamed down your face. You saw the look on Quinn's face when he walked in to you. In a way, you were letting the trolls win even more. Quinn didn't deserve to come home to someone who couldn't get out of bed. At least, that's what the voices in your head were telling you.

Quinn walked quickly back up the stairs, but with less energy than your dog. He set your cup down on the bedside table, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand rubbing your calf over the blankets. He knew at some point you would tell him what's wrong. He didn't want to force it out of you, but at the same time, Quinn had been alerted to the fact that you had not left the bed in days. He was concerned.

Your sniffle gave you away, not pretending to hide. Quinn knew you were struggling, and there was no point in trying to hide your mood. "Why are you crying, lovely? I'd really like to help you, but I'm not sure how," he muttered, leaning in to softly wipe your tears away. "It's nothing, I should be able to handle it by now." you muttered, hinting him to what was wrong without giving away any details.

"Handle what, babe? The roadtrips? I know they're hard. They're hard for me, too. I promise you're not alone in that." Your heart softened at his kind voice, at his genuine concern. Of course the roadtrips were hard, and in a way it helped to know that they were hard for him too, but you knew that wasn't what was bothering you.

You shook your head lightly, curling in further on yourself. At this point, Quinn was even more confused, but he knew that you weren't going to budge. "I'm just gonna get ready for bed, okay sweetheart? We can talk more in a minute," he went to get ready, and also to collect himself and his thoughts.

When he walked into the en suite bathroom, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Brock's girlfriend had texted him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had her number for a reason, but they obviously didn't text much individually.

"Hi Quinn, sorry to bother you so late," it started. "I was a bit worried about Y/N these past few days because she went radio silent over the weekend. We were supposed to have plans over the weekend, but she bailed with pretty much no explanation. So I did some digging on social media, and I found some pretty nasty comments on her most recent posts. I know people sometimes make comments to her at games, but these comments are new. I just wanted to let you know in case that was what was bothering her."

Quinn couldn't believe his eyes. These were some of the most hateful things he had ever read. And he had no idea they were saying things at games. He noticed that you started caring more but also less simultaneously somehow. She did much more hair and makeup than usual, while also covering her body entirely, almost drowning herself in her clothes.

Quinn was horrified. How long have you been dealing with this? Why didn't you say anything? Quinn couldn't get back to the bedroom fast enough. He rushed over to the bed, pulling you into a hug immediately. He felt your tears soaking his shirt, and Quinn had tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. "Why didn't you say anything? I'm so sorry, I love you," he whispered into your neck.

"I didn't want to bother you. I thought I should be able to deal with it by now. The jealousy, the mean girls. But it has gotten worse. They've been truly evil. I tried not to let it bother me, but I couldn't help it." You didn't want to remove yourself from Quinn's embrace. It was the first time you felt comfort in days.

"My love, you are never a bother. I'm appalled of these things they're saying, I can't believe you've been dealing with this in silence. No one deserves this, especially not you, my sweet girl." He coaxed you slowly to look him in the eyes, but you were still touching at almost every nerve ending.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he murmured, running his finger across your cheek. "And above all that, you're kind, loving, caring, empathetic, selfless, giving, and so many other amazing things. You are none of those things they say about you, okay? I'm so sorry, my angel. I know I can't fix it, but I want to. Tomorrow, we're gonna spend the whole day together, okay? And I'm gonna pamper you like you've always deserved. I'm so sorry that you've been going through this. I'm gonna fix it. I'm gonna make a statement, we can limit comments to friends only, make a separate, more private account. Whatever you want, baby. I just want this to be fixed and I want you to be okay. You don't deserve to suffer like this because of some evil, hateful people."

You knew Quinn would be helpful and caring if he ever found out about this, but you never expected all of this. You were exhausted and thrilled just thinking about everything. You had let those hateful people bring you down for so long, now you just wanted to be with your sweet boy.

"Can we do all that tomorrow? I just want to be with you. And I lied, I'm starving, I can smell the food from downstairs and I'm practically salivating," Quinn laughed out loud, causing you to smile for the first time in days. "There's my angel, I love you so much. We can do whatever you want, okay? Anything, my treat. Whatever you want. You deserve that damn food, okay? And everything else in the world, I love you so much."

Tears had begun to stream down your face for a different reason. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have such a sweet, caring, and thoughtful man to have and to hold.

"I love you, Quinn. Thank you so much," you mumbled with watery eyes. When he leaned in and connected your lips with his, you knew you would get through this. Yes, their words still hurt. It wasn't fixed for good, it wasn't perfect, but you knew as long as you had Quinn by your side, you could make it through anything.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 2 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna knows her new coworkers want her to meet their friend Bob. But she's too hesitant, afraid to get herself in a situation where she's pining after someone new. During a spur of the moment shopping trip, Bob is delighted to bump into a woman he can only describe as adorable. Too bad he's never been great at the follow through.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

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

By the end of her first week teaching, Anna had learned many things, almost like she was a student herself. That nice, secluded ladies' restroom she found was secluded because one of the toilets regularly overflowed. The coffee in the teacher's lounge was actually disgusting, but the donuts were available every day. And Dr. Pham from the sociology department asked her out three times on Thursday, apparently because she wore her hair in two braids like Princess Anna from Frozen, a mistake she wouldn't be making again.

And she was so tired. She started to lose her voice on Friday morning from how much she had to talk in her lectures. She took the wrong notes to class with her and had to improvise an hour long class on Emily Dickinson, because she was too afraid to give one of her students the keys to her office door. So she sweated it out, but managed to sound somewhat coherent as she dismissed her class at noon.

She pressed her lips together. If she ran to get her sandwich and peanuts really quickly, she could join her new friends by the weird tree. After two days of joining them for lunch, she really liked both of them. She just didn't want to get their hopes up about their friend Bob whom she was supposedly perfect for.

Anna wasn't perfect for anybody. And frankly this Bob guy sounded like a dreamboat, which just made it worse. He'd probably laugh after taking one look at her, and if she opened her mouth and tried to talk to him, he'd run away scared. She already turned down their invitation to go to the Navy hangout bar on Saturday night, citing that she was too exhausted. But it was really because she needed to stand firm with herself and do everything she could to protect her feelings from now on. 

After another few seconds of contemplation, she went to her office and got her lunch before heading to the quad. But today it was just Jessica there eating lasagna and garlic bread from a plastic container while Anna's stomach growled in jealousy. 

"Hi," she greeted after she chewed up a bite of her perfect looking lunch. "It's just us today. Dr. Rosenthal apparently had a bunch of questions about the math curriculum and took Advanced Calculus out for a long working lunch at Covewood."

Anna had barely been in the city for more than two weeks, but even she had heard of Covewood. "That's a five star restaurant. A romantic date night hot spot."

"Mmhmm," Jessica agreed as she sunk her perfect teeth into the garlic bread.

Anna realized her own experience was fueling her next sentences, but she said them anyway. "Isn't she married? Her husband is okay with that?" she asked softly.

Advanced Physics burst into laughter. "Bradley loves Dr. Rosenthal. He's in his seventies, and he's one of the sweetest people at the school. They have him over for dinner sometimes. He actually did my tenure review."

"Oh," Anna replied, embarrassed that she could hardly relate to someone who trusted their spouse. "That actually sounds really nice."

"Hey, are you sure you don't want to come out tomorrow night? No pressure. I just think you'd have a fun time. The guys are all sweethearts."

Anna looked down at herself and her sad sandwich. She didn't even have money to spare for a beer that she would probably drink half of before she wanted to leave. And it didn't matter if the guys were sweet, she knew her two new friends would be champing at the bit to see how she and this Bob person interacted. "Not this weekend," she replied. "Maybe another night."

Instead of socializing, she spent her Saturday window shopping in North Park. She had a budget of exactly zero dollars, but she could entertain herself for hours this way. She gasped when she found a two story bookshop that claimed it contained new and used and rare finds, and she ran across the street to get to it. 

It was darker and quieter inside than the sunlit, traffic filled streets, and when Anna took a deep breath, it reminded her of a cozy library. The clerk behind the register waved instead of speaking, so really, it just kept getting better. When she noticed the wooden sign on the wall informing her that The Classics were upstairs, she made her way up the creaky steps to a loft area with row after row of tall shelves. 

"Perfect," she muttered, walking to the end of the open space and turning down the last tight row of bookshelves. She wasn't alone, but the only other occupant was a tall, slim man with broad shoulders and tidy, sandy colored hair. He seemed to be so absorbed by what he was reading, he didn't look up when Anna reached for an enormous copy of Shakespeare plays.

She almost moaned out loud; it was annotated and contained every play she had to teach in her Thursday morning English 300 class. It was well worn, and the cover felt nice in her hands. Shit. Of course it was seventy bucks. That was more than she spent on groceries last week. Maybe she could expense it to the department? She should probably know how to do that. Maybe she could text one of her new friends and ask if that was allowed. 

But she slid the book back into place as a Vonnegut she didn't yet own caught her eye. She reached out for it with a steady hand, but as soon as her fingertips met the spine, a much larger hand, complete with graceful yet calloused fingers, wrapped around hers. Everything suddenly smelled clean like soap and also intriguingly like tea leaves. And then she heard a voice next to her ear that made her bite down on her lip as a ripple of pleasure teased her spine. 

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

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

Bob had never been to this store before, and he wasn't really planning on stopping by today, but Mickey dragged him in and then ditched him for the children's section at the back of the store. Bob looked around downstairs, but as a poetry fan, he found that section to be seriously lacking, so he headed up to the loft instead.

He considered himself well-read until he realized how many classic novels he'd never even heard of before. And they all sounded really depressing. Which was kind of the point, he supposed, but if he was going to get something new to read, he was in the mood for a more upbeat story. Maybe a romance or a European adventure he could get lost in. Maybe a sweeping, romantic tale where the nice guy gets the girl for once. 

After several tries, he still wasn't finding anything close to what he was hoping for. As he re-shevled The Bell Jar, he decided to just reach for a book at random. Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut? Maybe that would be more his speed. But when he reached for it, his fingers wrapped around a soft hand complete with glossy, burgundy fingernails instead of the actual book. He jumped an inch in the air, because he hadn't even been aware anyone else was in the aisle with him, let alone a woman who smelled like sweet perfume.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," he stammered, already mortified. Then she turned to look at him over her shoulder, and he wanted to jump off the loft railing and run out the shop door. There was only one word to accurately describe her: adorable. She had dark red hair done up in a messy braid, big brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose. "Oh."

"It's okay," she replied softly as she tried to hand him the book. "You can have it."

He shook his head, completely distracted, as he kept finding more things about her face that he liked. A grin curled along his lips as he said, "No, it's all yours. Really. I was just looking for something new to read."

She glanced down at the cover and then back at his face, and maybe he was imagining things, but it looked like she was blushing a bit. "Wow. I wasn't really expecting anyone else to be interested in reading a sarcastic take on global destruction on a sunny Saturday afternoon."

His eyebrows shot up. "Is that what it's about?"

Her laughter was also adorable. "Yeah, I mean... it's Vonnegut," she said with a bit of an eye roll. Oh no. She knew what she was talking about, and he kind of didn't. He was probably about to sound like an idiot. 

Bob cleared his throat and pointed at a random spine to buy himself time. "What's this one about?"

She cocked her head slightly to the side and said, "Two murders and a kidnapping."

"Oh," he said with a little laugh. "No thanks. How about this one?"

He wasn't even looking at the books now at all, preferring to watch her facial expression change as she checked another title. "Oh, that one's good. Also about murder."

He chuckled and pointed at another. "This one?"

She smirked and looked up at him. "Jealousy, rage, hatred, and also a lot of murder."

"Wow," Bob replied with what he was sure was a stupid looking smile. "I was hoping for something a little tamer? Perhaps less murder-y? Maybe I should go down and look in the children's section?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and listened to her laugh again.

"I could recommend a few books with little to no murder. Maybe even a happy ending," she told him, and he watched as she pushed her braid over her shoulder. 

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. To his shock and amazement, her gaze followed his movement, and her blush returned.

When her tongue darted out between her lips, Bob could feel his heart beating in his temples. Her brown eyes drifted back up to his face, and he wondered if this was how Jake or Bradley used to feel when girls paid attention to them at the bar. It was decidedly really exciting. 

He was going to be bold like his friends. He was going to ask her for her number. Maybe he'd see if she wanted to help him shop for some books, and he could buy her that horrible Vonnegut that she wanted, and then he'd ask her very nicely for her number. 

"Floyd!"

Bob watched you jump as Mickey's voice echoed through the store.

"Floyd! Let's go!"

"S-Sorry," Bob muttered, stepping past her and heading for the loft railing. "Just... hang on for one second?"

As soon as Mickey looked up and saw him, he said, "We gotta go, man. I got some books for my nephews, but we'll be late to grab a drink before D&D if we don't leave now. You know how she gets when we're late." He was shaking a bag of books and heading for the door.

Bob did know for a fact that Jessica got annoyed when they showed up late because they got hungry or distracted on the way to The Hard Deck. "Just give me a minute," he told Mickey, but he was already outside. 

He swiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and turned around to find the aisle empty. Oh no. He checked the next row of shelves, and the next, and the next, until he got all the way to the stairs, but the adorable redhead was nowhere to be found. And he had no idea what her name was. 

"Hello?" he called out softly, checking each aisle again until he was back where he started. Bob might have believed that he imagined the whole entire exchange with an attractive woman, except that there was one book propped up against the others right where he and she had been standing. 

"A Room With a View by E. M. Forster," he mumbled as he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. He glanced around again, but she was well and truly gone, leaving nothing except for what seemed like a book recommendation. 

"Floyd!"

Bob sighed and tipped his head back in frustration. "Coming!"

He descended the stairs slowly, head swiveling in every direction, searching for brown eyes and a braid while he held the book. Gone. He paid for A Room With a View and headed outside to find Mickey looking quite annoyed. What he didn't see was the mystery girl watching him from the far end of the loft.

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"She was real," Bob insisted as he held his glass of ginger ale a little tighter. "Just because you were too busy yelling doesn't mean I made her up in my mind. She had red hair and brown eyes."

Mickey gave him a skeptical look. "That's actually a really rare combination. And I know for a fact you happen to have an excellent imagination, my friend."

Bob cradled his forehead in his hand. "Why didn't I ask for her name and number?" Then he paused. "You know what? It doesn't even matter. There's no way she would have agreed to give it to me." 

He thought about the book he bought sitting on the front seat of his truck next to his dice bag and character sheet, and he considered just going home for the night. Maybe he could start to read the book. Maybe he'd feel like writing.

Then he felt an arm slip around his waist. "Hi, Jessica," he said as he blushed when he looked down at Jake's petite girlfriend. A second later, Bradley's wife was next to him as well, and Bob realized they were wearing matching smirks.

"Hey, Bob," Jessica replied, giving him a little squeeze. "We were just wondering if you happened to like redheads."

Mickey snickered before he tipped his beer bottle back and finished the drink. "He loves them. Daydreams about them."

Bob shot him a withering look. "She was real."

"Who was real?" Bradley's wife asked as her husband came up behind her and set his chin on her shoulder. Great, now he was going to have a full audience of people informed about his embarrassing afternoon of not even knowing how to ask a woman what her name was.

"There was a cute girl at the bookstore in North Park earlier," he muttered. "She had red hair, and I fumbled the ball."

Bradley chuckled. "You know what your problem is, right? You're too nice. Sugar met me when I was an absolute fuckboy, and she fell hard."

"I've been having a decade long lapse of judgement," she replied, and Bradley kissed her neck. "Don't listen to him, Bob. Girls love nice guys."

But Bob knew they didn't. Even the woman from the bookstore dodged him after approximately five minutes of flirting. If you could even call that flirting. He finished his ginger ale, and said, "We need to go. It's almost time for D&D. I'll drive."

Mickey nodded and said, "I'm ready." He could probably tell Bob had reached his limit with this conversation. His friend may be an extrovert to the extreme, but he was good at recognizing when Bob needed a break.

Jessica nodded as well and patted him on the chest before she pranced off into Jake's open arms. They shared the most adorable looking kisses before Jake straightened out her glasses and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Have her home by midnight, Bob!" he called as he released her. 

Bob nodded wishing there was someone besides the elderly woman who lived in the duplex next to him that cared if he was out past midnight or not. Even though he always looked forward to playing Dungeons & Dragons, he kind of wanted to head home and call it an early night. Nothing sounded as good as sending an email to Nat before reading his new book. But he would wait until later, and maybe he would even be in the mood to get his laptop out.

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Anna went back to her studio apartment empty handed. Well, that wasn't quite true. She didn't buy any books, but she did splurge on a six dollar bottle of wine which would probably taste disgusting. She just hoped it would help her sleep through the night after reading some sad poetry and eating a piece of toast for dinner. 

That guy from the bookstore was going to linger in her mind for a long time whether she wanted him to or not. She was more attracted to him after five minutes in his presence than she was to Kevin at any point in the past five years. And if she was going to start thinking about Kevin, she was probably going to cry. 

The toast was good, but the wine was bad. And she did cry a little bit. She was never going to get attached to the idea of being in a relationship ever again. She was never going to have herself that level of intimacy just to have it ripped away. She wouldn't allow it. Relying on herself would have to be enough. Handsome strangers with muscular, veiny arms and cute glasses who made her laugh were not part of the plan. That's why she ducked behind the end cap after she left him a book she thought he might like. She watched him buy it for himself, which left her almost breathless. If she allowed herself to, she could picture him sitting in a coffee shop sipping some tea and reading that book.

"Enough," she whispered, vision a little sloppy from the wine. She opened up the website called PoetsAmongUs, read a bookmarked collection about how good it would feel to be loved completely, and passed out. 

The realization that she was going to have to spend all of Sunday afternoon getting ready for the week was made slightly easier by the fact that she only had four hundred square feet of space to clean. And then she thought about the beautiful home she once had in New Jersey, and she had to finish the bottle of wine to help her get through her notes on The Great Gatsby.

She was still thinking about that hot guy with the glasses on Monday when she grabbed a donut from the teacher's lounge. Indulging in a little fantasy here and there about being loved and cared for wouldn't be so bad. And putting his face to it just made it even sexier. When she wasn't teaching, she let her mind wander to some possibilities that would never happen again. Pretty eyes, lean muscles, soft looking hair, pink cheeks. He probably had nice friends, too. He probably never cheated on anything in his life.

"Hey, Anna? Are you alright?"

She looked up from her bag of peanuts and realized she'd been so deep in thought, she wasn't paying attention to the lunch conversation. "I'm sorry," she replied, fighting the urge to groan. She wasn't very good at this stuff and should have probably just eaten lunch in her office like she did the past few days. The fact that it was Wednesday and she was still distracted was concerning to her. 

"Don't apologize. You just seem lost in thought," said Jessica as she ate another perfect looking lunch. 

"Do you want some chips and hummus? Bradley packed me too much food today," her other friend said. And of course he did, because he sounded like a damn dream.

Anna ate a few chips and sighed. "Have either of you ever had your heart smashed to bits?" She didn't really mean to say that out loud, but now that she had, she was met with an awkward silence that she wanted to run away from. 

"Yeah," Advanced Calculus replied softly. "And I did it to myself."

"Not my heart as much as my hopes and dreams," Advanced Physics added. "But for me, I think that was much worse."

Now the silence that followed wasn't quite as painful, but Anna was still a little embarrassed. "Yeah. All of the above." She cleared her throat and tried to think of something else to talk about, but her mind was still on the bookstore. "Hey, why didn't you tell me that San Diego is full of hot guys? They are literally everywhere. I went window shopping in North Park and got sucked into a bookstore, and I bumped into a guy with glasses who smelled so nice."

"Ohhh, what did he look like?"

Anna sighed. "You know how you can just tell a guy is really strong even though he doesn't have bulging muscles?"

"Mmhmm."

"He was like that." Anna bit into her sandwich and chewed it slowly. "Pretty eyes, kind of the color of a lake. Sandy hair. Wire glasses. Soft spoken. He smelled like a cup of tea." 

A few seconds later, she was snapped back from her drifting thoughts as Advanced Calculus asked, "Did you say this was at a bookstore in North Park?"

"Yes," Anna replied with a nod. 

"Did you get his name?" Advanced Physics asked. 

"No," she answered, still embarrassed over the fact that she hid from him.

And then she thought she was going to get whiplash again.

"Was he about six feet tall?"

"Was he slim but not skinny?"

"Did he blush when he smiled?"

"Will you please come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"

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

Bradley is so proud of the fact that Sugar fell for him when they were in college. Beer Boy just gets better with age. This little Bob and Anna meet cute might spell disaster when they figure it all out! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[weird-is-life]

Sirius Black after escaping the Black Manor House, bloody and bruised and sobbing his heart out, comes to James’s house where Remus and reader already are. Reader gets so incredibly protective of Siri and just wraps herself around him, hardly even letting fleamont near him in fear of him getting hurt again. She falls asleep in his lap, still curled around him like a shield.

Hiii, ty for the request!!! Hope this is okay, warnings: pet names, mentions of bruises and blood, angsty, fluff, mentions of food/drinks, (0.7k)

You don't expect anybody to barge inside Potters's home, so late at night. You, James and Remus have been talking and inventing a plan on how to free your Sirius from the nightmare, that is his household for hours, hell even days now.

So when you see him standing in front of the door all bloody, bruised and so so sad, you almost think you've gone crazy.

But you haven't, he's really there. Sirius knew, he had to get out of his house. And even if he knew it wasn't going to be easy, he didn't expect his family to fight so hard to keep him there. It all happened so quickly, one minute, he was casting one spell after another and the next, he was knocking on James's door with blood running down his arm and face.

"Oh my gosh, Sirius!" you throw yourself around his neck, hugging him tightly just to really make sure, you aren't imagining him.

Sirius lets out a sigh of relief, upon having you finally back in his arms, even if his whole body hurts like crazy. And unintentionally, he can't help it, the tears start to run down his cheeks as his body shakes with the sobs.

You don't say anything, almost as startled by the state of Sirius as he is, you just hold him more tightly.

The guys give you a few minutes before they get too impatient and go to hug Sirius tightly. You step back for a moment, giving them some space, because you know they need it, too.

Eventually, when Sirius's soft sobs stop and there appears a smile on his face, you say, " come on handsome, let's get you cleaned up."

You take his hand and lead him to the bathroom as Remus and James make some tea and something to eat.

You sit Sirius down on the tub and bring out some gauzes and antiseptic spray. You start to gently wiping away the blood and cleaning out the cuts.

Sirius tiredly, defeated just sits there and lets you clean him up. His eyes close on their own accord as your loving hands patch him up.

You work as quickly and as gently as you can, but every now and then you hear, Sirius wince.

"I'm sorry, sorry" you say worriedly, "I'm almost done."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Sirius answers softly with hoarse voice.

You stop, what you are doing and sigh, " I'm sorry, Siri, that....that you had to go through this on your own. I'm sorry, we weren't there."

Sirius opens his eyes to look at your pretty, but very upset face," sweetheart, there was nothing you could have done. Nothing. And it's okay, if you weren't there, you are here now, that's all that matters to me," Sirius tries to give you is best smile and it works. Even if he looks like he just went through hell and back, his smile looks the smile as it always does.

You sniffle a little and smile back at him, putting your hands through his wild hair, you whisper, " I love you, Siri."

"I know," Sirius says," I love you, too. So much."

You lean in to give him a kiss, but hesitate, not wanting to make him hurt with all of the cuts.

Sirius, apparently, doesn't care about it, because he pulls you close to him and kisses you. His whole face feels like it's on fire from the pain, but all he cares about is that he's safe and he's got you with him.

When you pull away with giddy smile, you quickly go to your room for some Bruisewort Balm (healing cream) and some clothes, he can change into.

Once Sirius is looking like himself again, you go hand in hand to the living room, where the tea and food and relieved James and Remus wait for you two.

You make yourselves comfy on the couch there. You snuggle Sirius close the whole time, not intending on ever letting him go again.

And as the sun starts to rise, everybody falls asleep in the living room, too exhausted to move to the much comfier beds. But you are as comfy as one can be, as you hold on tightly to your Sirius.

[seeingivy]

befriend your landlord 

roommate eren x f!reader

you and eren reconcile after meeting your eccentric landlord

**find the series masterlist here

content: drinking, certified nut job landlord kenny ackerman, mentions of thanksgiving and fascism, mentions of a little meow meow 

an: I do not subscribe to canon lonely levi he actually just has a very alive mother and a weirdo freak uncle bc I said so. buckle in girlfriends!!! (and boyfriends and all the friends) also this chapter is based on a very real thing that happened to one of my friends in college I just think its funny...also ive evolved from calling this a mini-series cuz I plotted way too much and now cuz we gotta build the trust yk they are VERY MUCH IDIOTS IN LOVE

previous part linked here

- 

“So we can’t drive because…” 

“He likes to drink. Like, an insane amount.” 

“What does that have to do with us?” 

You and Eren were currently swinging your feet on the green bench, the train station bustling in front of you. The two of you were riding into the city to meet with your landlord today. Kenny Ackerman. You were officially being added to the lease. But apparently, it was a bigger ordeal than just signing the papers. 

You’d thought against it originally. Signing a very legal, very binding agreement to live with Eren, to stay with him for the foreseeable future. It didn’t seem like the best idea, given how the two of you were as of late. Awkward, distant, aimless. 

If you had things your way, you would have been moving out, you would have never even been his roommate in the first place. You had even tried apartment hunting again, just to get away from Eren. For good. 

The second you tried, you immediately remembered the reason you had to live with Eren in the first place. The options were hardly to die over. Hole in the wall, bathtub for a bed, your old physics professor.

You were stuck with Eren, whether you liked it or not. And that meant you had to go, convince Kenny Ackerman you were ‘worthy of living in the apartment’ (Eren’s words, not yours), and then sign the lease. 

Eren had been coaching you for a better part of the morning, this conversation being the longest the two of you had talked in the past few weeks. 

Some part of talking to him was becoming easier. The two of you weren’t exactly having the conversations you had before, but it was civil. Nice even. It was the only reason you were able to stomach this entire thing.

“I would never drive you home drunk, Y/N.” 

“I could have driven us home.” 

“Trust me. He can be very convincing.” 

Eren had been coaching you on everything you needed to know about Kenny. Don’t call him Mr. Ackerman, he will hate you. If Kuchel, his sister, is there then make sure that you call her Mrs. Ackerman. Don’t call her Kuchel until she tells you to call her Kuchel. The sooner she says that, the better. Make sure to drink anything he offers you, the pink lemonade smells bad but it’s not too horrible. If his nephew is there, don’t make eye contact unless he makes it with you first. 

He was somehow more nervous introducing you to his landlord (and his landlord’s family??) than introducing you to his own parents. Granted, they kind of put a pin in that entire thing, but he seemed way more at ease then than he did right now. 

You can see the timer on the screen, signaling that the next train would be here in less than a minute. You nudge his shoulder and the two of you jump off the bench, hesitantly linking arms as you push through the crowd in front of you.

The second the doors slide open, everyone pushes forward, very quickly sliding into every available seat on the train. This left you and Eren to share a single pole to hold onto as the train started moving. You secure your knuckles right under his, the two of you standing in silence, less than a foot away from each other. He leans down, his face even closer than it was before and he whispers into your ear. 

“Brace your feet.” 

“I know how to stand on a train, Eren.” 

He doesn’t respond right away and you turn to find him looking down at the ground, avoiding meeting your gaze. You were just kidding. But then again, you did yell at him last week, so how is he supposed to know the difference? 

“Six stops. Then we’ll get off.” 

You nod, bracing your feet against the ground as the train starts moving. The train is stuffy, warm, and way over capacity. You can smell the girl standing directly next to you’s perfume, the prune smell so strong it was making your head spin. But worse than the smell was the heat, the congregation of people making the air congested, your hair sticking to the back of your neck from the sweat. 

The two of you are pressed against each other, standing awkwardly. In silence. You did that a lot lately. This thing between the two of you was…delicate. You’re not sure what it is but the usual comfort, ease that you and Eren had was all but eliminated, left with this quietness. If you made a joke, it was lost to him entirely. If he said something that caught you off guard, you usually avoided responding by leaving the room. You had shouted at him and he made fun of you, so that didn’t leave much room for comfort. 

The train quickly lurches, slowing down all of a sudden. You quickly lose your footing, stumbling in the air as the train stops completely. Before you can fall, Eren secures his hand against your waist, stabilizing you in the air as the train comes to a full stop. You watch a few people get off the train and switch with those getting on, your breath still shaky from losing your balance. 

You feel him lean down, his head directly next to yours as he whispers in your ear, again. His hand is still secured around your waist, holding you steady. Even though the train wasn’t moving. 

“So when I said brace your feet, I basically meant-” 

“Shut up, Eren.” 

“We should get a leash for the ride back. Lock you up real nice so you won’t move.” 

“Perfect! We can use after too, when I have to drag your drunk ass home.” 

The two of you are laughing, readjusting yourself against the pole as the train starts again. His hands are still holding you steady and you can feel your cheeks flushing pink. From the heat. Obviously. 

There’s always moments like this - ones where it feels like nothing’s changed at all. You try not to think too hard about them. They’ve always gotten you in trouble. 

He tightens his grip on your waist every time the train lurches and stops, for all five of the stops. You avoid the pounding in your chest, which only stops when you both hop off the train at the end of the line. 

As you wait for Eren to pay for the return tickets, you spot a tiny black kitten, just at the end of the sidewalk. You immediately run down, nuzzling the tiny little cat as you pet it. As you breathe in the air, you immediately sneeze twice, your eyes watery from the sensation. You immediately hear the sound of a camera clicking, to find Eren standing over you, his phone in hand. 

“What was that for?” 

“Two kitties!”

“Ew.” 

He holds his hand out, pulling you up as the two of you walk down the block to Kenny’s apartment. Your hands are at your side, lightly brushing against Eren’s every time he leans over, making room for the other people on the sidewalk. The sun is setting on top of the buildings, the air slightly chilled. The two of you stop, standing directly on Kenny’s porch. He glances over, giving you one last look. 

“Why are you so nervous, Eren?” 

“He can be really weird. And he’s going to grill you. Just- we have to bear with him to keep the rent the way it is and live together so, just don’t blow it, okay?” 

“I really appreciate your vote of confidence, Eren. Your faith in me is rejuvenating” 

“That’s- shut up, you know that’s not what I meant.” 

The two of you give each other a smile, as Eren turns to the side and knocks on the door. 

“Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?” you whisper. 

“His doorbell is La Cucaracha.” he responds. 

The door swings open and you’re greeted with three faces staring down at you - identical sets of jet black hair and gray eyes glistening in the lamplight of the street. At the sight of you, their faces all visibly droop, as they all welcome you in. 

“He looks too young for you, Levi. And he brought a pretty girl.” 

“Those are the tenants, Mom. Not Erwin.” 

The two of them shuffle down the hall, pushing past into the room. 

“Kenny Ackerman. You must be Eren’s new roommate.” 

“Yes, that’s me. It’s so nice to meet you.” 

You hold your hand out, him nearly jostling your entire body as he shakes your hand. He idles down the hallway to where the other two had gone, leaving you and Eren in the walkway. You whisper to Eren as the two of you hang your coats on the rack. 

“They hate me already.” 

“That’s not true. Kuchel called you pretty.” 

You roll your eyes, the two of you awkwardly shuffling into the living room, where the three of them were sitting across from you. It’s only then that you can get a better look at them and realize that you know one of them. Levi. Your old physics professor. The one who you cried to about not having a roommate that took pity on you and let you sleep in his house. 

“Hi Professor Levi. It’s been a while.” 

“I see you’ve found a roommate. I can’t believe you found a place to live in one week.” 

“I thought you said the two of you had been living together for a few months, Eren.” 

“We have, Kenny.”

“Ah, right. I was just looking around at other apartments for the past week just to see if anything popped up on the market. And they didn’t. So I’m here.” 

Eren ducks his head down, the expression on his face dark. He whispers into your ear as the three of them start chattering, still discussing Erwin. 

“What? You want to move out?” 

“No, no. I was just looking. It must be awkward for you to live with a girl who isn’t your girlfriend, you know?” 

He leans over, his eyes teetering between annoyed and irritated. 

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.” 

The doorbell rings, throwing you and Eren out of the conversation you were having. You watch the three of them jump up and rush to the door, fixing their hair and their clothes as they make it to the door. You and Eren stand up, peeking your heads down the hallway as you watch the three of them greet Erwin. Your old political science professor. 

First Levi now Erwin too? You can feel your cheeks burning from embarrassment, remembering that you had actually cried to the two of them twice - the first time to Levi when you were jumping houses and he agreed to let you stay with them and a second time when Erwin offered you an extra pillow before you went to sleep. 

“Hello. I’m Erwin Smith.” 

“Eren Yeager. This is my roommate, Y/N.” 

“Ah, Y/N. How are you? You figured out your living situation fast!” 

You don’t miss Eren glaring daggers at you out of the corner of your eye as you give Levi and Erwin an awkward smile, shaking your sweaty palms against their hands.

“Okay kid. You and Kuchel should go fix the dinner with Erwin in the kitchen. I have to talk to these two here.”  

Why are you and Eren here the first time Levi’s family is meeting his long term boyfriend? 

You look over to Eren whose irritation has very quickly been replaced with nervousness. Kenny is staring the two of you down, the two of you squished together on his very tiny couch. 

“So. You go to Shiganshina?” 

You feel your voice tangle in your throat, suddenly intimidated by Kenny staring you down. You can hear Eren’s voice echoing in your head, his angry look seared in your mind, your voice not coming out. He’s going to grill you. Don’t blow it. 

“Yes. She’s an Applied Kinesiology major. She’s very smart.” 

You look over, silently thanking the gods that Eren answered for you. 

“Can you pay rent?” 

“She has been, for the past two months.” 

He nods, leaning over the table as he stares you down. 

“I’ll give you a situation. Respond accordingly.” 

You nod, clenching your hands into little fists against the couch. 

“You just got off of work. You’re really tired but you have to stop by the store to get groceries. You’ve purchased them all. What do you do after?” 

You look over at Eren, giving him a weary stare. What the fuck kind of question is that? Is there even a right answer to this? 

“Well, I would leave the store. And take my cart, if I had one, to my car. I’d probably put my stuff away, return the cart, and then just drive home, put everything in the fridge and the cabinets.” 

He nods, taking in your answer as he leans back in his chair. “Do you like Eren?” 

“What?” 

“As a roommate.” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah, he’s great.” 

“Why did you start rooming with him?” 

You can’t lie. It seems wrong to tell him that your old roommates chose not to room with you for the next year - he was sure to not think you were a good fit if you said that. But if he found out you were lying, it would be even worse. 

“Well you see, she-”

“I asked her, Eren.” 

You feel him move his knee, pressing his against yours as his fingers curl around your hand. You feel him squeeze your hand twice, his green eyes warm as he looks at you. Right. You can do this. 

“I used to live with a few of my friends last year. I didn’t really know, but they had picked other arrangements without telling me, so I was left without a roommate for around a week. Eren was nice enough to offer me the empty spot in his room so I didn’t have to jump around from my friends' places every night.” 

He stares the two of you down. You’re rubbing circles into the back of Eren’s hand, the two of you holding your breaths as you wait for his response. 

“Sucks. Kids are bitches.” 

You both squeeze, trying your best not to smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“If you kids start dating, you can't be loud at night. You’ll piss off the neighbors. You can sign the lease after dinner. You passed.” 

He gets up off the couch, his distinct smoke smell leaving the room with him. You turn to Eren, the two of you smiling at each other as you lift your hands to high five. Eren holds your hand in the air, shaking your hand excitedly. 

“You passed, kitty.” 

“Where are we right now? Do you smell that? How does it smell like smoke and laundry at the same time? And what the fuck kind of question was that? I thought I was going to vomit. ” 

“Weird guy. Nice rent rates, though.”

“And Levi. He’s my physics professor. I literally had a crush on him. And his boyfriend, he was my political science professor too. I even stayed over at their house once. This is about to be super weird.” 

“Why did you stay at their house?” 

“I didn’t have a place to stay! This was before you offered, when I was jumping houses.”

“Were they loud at night?” 

“Ew. Don’t put that thought in my head. I’m going to vomit.” 

“Save it for later.” 

“As if. I can hold my drink. Trust me.” 

 - 

You and Eren are seated directly across from Levi and Erwin at the dinner table, Kuchel and Kenny taking the heads of the tables at the ends. A large part of this feels like you and Eren are intruding on a very special moment, but you ignore that and dig into the food. 

Right. For some reason, Kenny picked Thanksgiving food for the menu. In the middle of September. Like full on turkey dinner, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce. 

“So, do you like Thanksgiving, Kenny?” 

“I hate fascism, Y/N. No, I do not like Thanksgiving.” 

You look over at Eren, trying your best to contain your laughter, as Kenny goes on, rambling about something you’re not quite sure about. Everything Eren said was slowly starting to fall into place - you really can’t turn down drinks from the guy. He’d already made you try three different drinks he made and you had only been here for an hour. And the pink lemonade was actually disgusting, Eren’s just a liar. 

Kuchel turns to the two of you, flashing you both a big smile.

“Say Eren. You never told us you got a pretty girlfriend.” 

You and Eren both choke on your food, clearing your throats. 

“Ah. I’m not Eren’s girlfriend. We just live together. Friends.” 

“Uh huh. Right. What a shame. You two are so sweet together. Sharing your sweet little smiles, playing footsie under the table.” 

You immediately drag your foot off of Eren’s under the table, embarrassed that she had caught that. Every time Levi rolled his eyes, Eren tapped your foot to get your attention, the two of you trying not to laugh. It’s not your fault that rolling his eyes is basically like blinking to Levi. 

“Ma. Leave them alone, yeah? They’re just kids, they don’t know what they feel.” 

“I have to agree with Lee’ here, Mrs. Ackerman. Surely, they just haven’t reached that stage yet.” 

“You call Levi Lee’, Erwin? That’s so sweet. Oh you two are just perfect and I-” 

The four of you five of you watch Kuchel burst into tears, taking turns pressing kisses to everyone's cheeks at the table. You and Eren included. When she sits down, Eren leans over, whispering in your ear. 

“She’s like Annie on hour five of being drunk.” 

“More like hour one.” 

You both laugh, silently eating your food as you watch them interact with each other again. Some parts of it feel like a reality tv show. Kenny’s is downright ridiculous - he’s been hurling out whatever comes to his mind. He told Eren that he seemed like the type to commit genocide in another life and then told Erwin that he would be a corrupt military man. 

Kuchel is sweet. Almost two sweet. She spent a large majority of the night crying, telling baby stories about Levi when he was a kid. You don’t miss the way Levi’s ears turn red when she confesses that Levi used to be scared of the toilet when he was younger. 

Best of all are Levi and Erwin. You don’t miss the glances between them - the silent communication they had going on at the table. It’s like the rest of you weren’t even here. That’s where you think Eren got the idea, the tapping on the feet. A signal that you were going to talk laugh about it later. 

- 

Eight drinks in and Kenny is blasting music, doing a solo interpretive dance to Etta James. You and Levi are in one corner with Kuchel, Erwin, and Eren in the other. 

“I can’t believe this guy is your uncle. Did you ever do a DNA test?” 

“Hundreds.”

You turn your neck to find Levi, staring across Erwin on the other side of the room. You follow his gaze, watching Kuchel pinch Eren’s cheeks and Erwin laugh at the two of them. 

“What’s your deal?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“With Eren. You like him right?” 

You look down into your cup, the opaque liquid staring back at you. Erwin had made you a fruity drink, to which Kenny responded “everything about this guy is fruity!” 

“Yeah.” 

“He doesn’t like you back?” 

“No.” 

“I didn’t like Erwin at first. He was too much - pretentious, arrogant, irrational at times.” 

“But?” 

“But, he was my best friend. At some point, all the love and admiration I had for him just became something more. Like, yeah, he was my favorite person to be around but then I wanted to be around him all the time. Tell him the good things, the bad things. Share something with him, anything, everything. I…I didn’t hate myself when I was with him.” 

You smile, squeezing Levi’s shoulder in your hands. 

“That’s sweet, Levi. I’m happy for you.” 

He gives you a small smile, turning his neck back to look at them across the hall. 

“Be his friend. Maybe he’ll come around.” 

 - 

Six drinks in and Eren is feeling buzzed. He was trying his best to pace himself, make sure he was sane enough to take you home at the end of the night. He could tell by the glazed look in your eyes that you were getting there, close to being fully plastered. 

He turns his neck, scanning for you around the room. You kept disappearing. But there you were, directly across from him, leaning against the wall from Levi. He meets your eyes and you give him a soft smile, accompanied with a tiny wave. His heart’s pounding. 

“Do you like her, Eren? Oh please say that you do.” 

Kuchel is squeezing his shoulders, her eyes lighting up in excitement. 

“Yeah. Maybe a little bit.” 

“Oh, oh, oh. You have to tell her. Don’t let her get away now!” 

“Ah, I tried. She doesn’t like me.” 

He watches her face droop, Erwin shaking his head in the air. Both of their cheeks are flushed pink, the cups they were holding shaking in their hands. Surely the only people who were at least somewhat sober were you and Eren, which was saying a lot. 

“You know, Eren. I knew Levi was the one the moment I saw him.” 

“Really?” 

“I liked him so much, I wanted him around. In whatever sense that means. Even if he only wanted to be my friend.” 

“He didn’t want to be with you?”

“Oh no, he loathed me. Like full of hatred.” 

“And that didn’t…bother you?” 

“Maybe a little bit, but we became friends after that. And I just wanted him around. Whatever way he would have me. Even just being his friend, getting to see him everyday, that was enough for me.” 

Eren cranes his neck back over, where Kenny has his arms slung around you and Levi. He’s forcing the two of you to sign with him - Levi looking downright murderous while you flash Kenny a polite smile. 

“Just be her friend, Eren. Maybe she’ll come around like Levi did.” 

 - 

You can’t hold your drink. Obviously. But Eren knew that already. He had been watching you for a better part of the last hour, your inhibitions absent. Erwin had made you yet another fruit themed drink, which you were all too happy to down. The second he saw the glass hit your hand, he’d focused all of his best efforts in trying to sober up, calm the thrill running through his blood. 

You had made your way back over to him after some time, the two of you on the couch. You were leaning your head against his shoulder, your breaths heavy and uneven. At the sight of Kenny - who was now singing with Kuchel on the table - you suddenly perk up, your hands pressed against his shoulders as you lean over him. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm, peaches?” 

“I have a plan.” you whisper, your eyes somewhere between delirious and devious. 

“Uh huh. What’s that?” 

“You and I should sign the lease now. Then mail the letters. That way, we can leave and Kenny can’t get mad because we basically did him a favor. We’ll just tell Levi in case he asks.” you whisper, a smile spreading across your face. 

You’re drunk out of your mind. Not that Eren himself isn’t drunk either, he can certainly feel the buzz he was trying to will away living, but he’s not as gone as you. 

“Genius idea.” 

“I know right!” 

He was being sarcastic, but you had already jumped off the couch, to where Levi and Erwin were standing in the corner. He quickly follows, catching up to balance you as you stumble over to where the two of them were standing. 

“So. Levi. Right, hi Levi.” 

He’s mentally debating if he should stop you. You are very plastered and could potentially say something embarrassing. But there’s something so funny, so endearing about the determined little look on your face that he decides against it, letting you go on. 

“You’re a man.” 

He watches the confusion spread across Levi’s already strained face, his eyes flitting between you and Eren. 

“And you, Erwin, are a man too. You two are men.” 

“That’s correct, Y/N. You’re very perceptive.” 

Eren tries his best to conceal his laughter, as you go on, talking to the two of them. You’re definitely worse than Annie. 

“Marriage. It’s a thing, you know? And a man can do it. And a woman can too. And you are a man and he is a man and you can both do that. And we want to come to that. Like go to there.” 

How did you get from talking about the lease to marriage?

“Eren. What is she going on about?” 

“We’re going to sign the lease papers and mail them on our way out so we can leave. We have to be up early tomorrow and she literally cannot drink more. We were going to ask if you could let Kenny know tomorrow and tell him to be easy on us.” 

“You drive here?” 

“No. Train. We’ll be fine to get back, Levi. I got her.” 

He nods. Eren doesn’t miss the look Erwin and Levi give each other as the two of you lock hands, tip-toeing into Kenny’s office. Of course Erwin told him. 

The two of you quickly rush out, laughing as you run down the block before any of them notice. You slow down as you pass the corner, the two of you strolling the rest of the way down the block back to the train station. He can tell you’re winding down by the way you’re leaning against him, skipping steps. 

The train car is empty, this being the last train leaving the station. He settles the two of you into the seats at the front, getting in first. 

“Ren. Can I have the window?” 

He nods, wordlessly changing seats with you. This seat’s better anyways. You look out the window. And he can look at you. 

You lean over, your eyes drooping as you lean over. He’s not sure what it is, maybe Kenny’s rancid tequila is still running through his bloodstream, but he locks his hand with yours, pressing his fingers against the scar in between your knuckles. 

“I…miss you, Y/N. Being your friend.” 

He watches your expression drop, your eyes fluttering fully open. 

“You don’t think we’re friends?” 

“No! I mean, yes. I just didn’t realize you thought we were still friends. After everything that happened, the fight we had I just kind of- I don’t know.” 

You’re quiet for some time and he can see the gears moving in your head. Your eyes are now pinched shut, your forehead scrunched in concentration. Maybe this was the right time to say this. Hopefully, you don’t even remember tomorrow. 

“Are we in second grade, Ren? Do you really not think we’re friends?” 

Of course. The words he said to you, the day you were sick. 

“We are still friends. I just meant, it was different for the past few days. But today, this was…nice. I enjoyed it.” 

You smile in response, the two of you leaning your heads against the back of the seats, the only sound being the whirring of the train behind you. 

“Y/N. You wouldn’t really move out, would you?” 

“I was hoping you forgot about that. It’s my fault. I kind of…get in my head sometimes, I don’t know.”

“About?”  

“I thought you didn’t want me around. So I didn’t want to be around you. I thought you hated me or something.” 

“Y/N. Look at me.” 

His eyes are dark, the same way as when Levi mentioned you were looking for another roommate. 

“I could never hate you.” 

“I know, I just meant-” 

“No. You clearly don’t know.” 

You turn over to find an irritated look plastered on his face, his jaw clenched shut. You press your fingers against his shoulder, squeezing twice to get his attention. He flutters his eyes open, leaning down to look at you. 

“You’re special to me. I don’t understand what I did that made you think I would ever make fun of you or hate you. You...piss me off when you say stuff like-” 

He’s cut off by you placing your hand on his cheek, your eyes peering into his. 

“Sorry, Ren.’ 

“S’okay. I know why you do it. But just remember, I’m not your stupid old roommates or your lame ex-boyfriend or anyone who ever made you feel that way. You and I are-” 

“Friends.” 

Not what he quite had in mind, but he’ll take it.

“Yeah. You can tell me anything.” 

“Okay. You too.” 

He sees you smile, your eyes wafting shut against his shoulders. He can feel the pit in his stomach burning, the exact same way it did every time you did something. When you smiled at him, fixed his hair, got him coffee. God, he still loves you. 

“So Ren. Do you want to hang out after recess?” 

“Shut up. You’re so corny, kitty.” 

“Ew.” 

- 

The next morning, Eren makes you breakfast and you sing in the shower. Progress. 

- 

next part linked here

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[wonysugar]

it’s so over for me…. ch. 12

wdym y/n’s drunk??

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol, weed and sex!! :]

tags: puppy kink, spitting kink(?), sub!aeri, dom!yn, bathroom sex, it’s a college house party idk what to tell you,,

there you were, in the middle of this horrible-decision-making-young-adults infested place, clothed in what you swore you wouldn’t even consider wearing. look, there was nothing else you could’ve done, it was around 11pm at the time, every store was closed, and even if they weren’t, you had like, no money. you had to work with what you had which was apparently a bunch of fuckass warm hoodies and sweatpants.

stopping yourself from just standing somewhere just observing everyone having fun, you decided to walk around after a bit. squeezing yourself through the unending piles of people drinking and smoking just by the front door. it reeked of marijuana as soon as you entered the house, but honestly, it was a college house party, what were you expecting?

at the corner of your eye, you spotted your two surprisingly decently dressed best friends, heejin and kazuha, standing next to the very cliche, very heavily liquor-filled red cups. heejin was wearing a black crop-top that very much showed cleavage with a black short skirt, the outfit completed by thin fishnets and thick black boots. kazuha, went for a more cozy look and wore a baggy white long-sleeved shirt under a brown graphic tee. her baggy pants were black and matching with her black and white converse.

you quickly rushed to get to them, waving at them as you still squeezed through. soon enough, they noticed you as you got out of the huddle of students.

“..what are you wearing.” heejin raised an eyebrow, her eyes slightly widened at the sight of the god-awful clothing before her. you shrugged, also eyeing her up and down.

“look. you know that i had nothing to wear! actually, let’s not mind my clothing, you wanna talk about the fact that you dressed up like a gothic slut?” you teased back, earning a small, amused oohh from kazuha.

“this is a college party, y/n, not bible study. everyone here is supposed to dress up like whores.”

you both subtly looked at kazuha’s attire, her innocent face looking back at the both of you just making the whole ‘loser girl who got lost on her way to the gaming café’ vibe look even more ridiculous. it’s okay though, she looked gay and confused enough to attract girls.

-

ning and aeri were watching this very random guy who’s been doing a very random handstand for about 20 minutes whilst everybody was hyping him up.

“holy shit he’s so fucking red.. he might actually faint from this oh my god??” said aeri, wiping away her tears of laughter with her finger while still cackling hardly at the scene. she was being careful not to damage her nails in any way. i mean, she got them done three days ago, they were precious.

ning glanced away to contemplate if throwing this party was even a good idea in the first place, that’s when she saw you watching your friends down whole cups of vodka and laughing with them.

well that answers her question!

she nudged a still laughing aeri with her elbow, annoying smirk plastered on her face as she still watched you from afar. “aeri, look at this.” she said, eventually, said girl looked in the same direction, still barely getting over the dude that was circled by people while he was practically doing acrobatics, “huh, what’s up?”

“isn’t that your girlfriend? you should go talk to her.” ning suggested playfully, earning a scoff from aeri. “also what the fuck is she wearing.” she quietly added, not realizing that she said that sort of outloud.

“i’m not going over there, she’s gonna like, judge me.” said the japanese girl, now gently rubbing on her arm as her expression morphs into one of worry. aeri uchinaga displaying nervous tics? that’s new.

“aeri, you’re the most popular girl on campus, everybody wants to either be you or be with you. if y/n l/n judges you, then you can jus-“

“where the fuck is jimin? we’re already all out of booze, god damn it.” minjeong interrupted, crashing into the conversation with absolutely no care about what they were talking about beforehand, which was typical minjeong behavior, so they weren’t offended.

“i don’t fucking know? probably making out with some girl?” aeri responded, wearing a cocky smirk while ning chuckled. it was very, and i mean very probable that jimin was doing someone right now. sure, she pretended to be homophobic when it came to aeri for shits and giggles, but that girl basically fucked everything she found remotely attractive. and that, included lots of girls and boys on campus, who were also coincidentally all rich?

“oh how lovely. well, we all wonder when that’s gonna be you with y/n! you fucking bitch..” she shoves her cup onto aeri as she mumbles that last bit then glares at both of the girls before walking away. in minjeong’s language, that basically meant “okay, thanks for letting me know! love you!” so they just sent her her way with a wave that she didn’t even get to see. ning immediately then turns back to aeri.

“okay, so, like i was saying! you should just be cool, unbothered, nonchalant. you know what i mean? who cares if she rejects you, there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” she said, trying to reassure her best friend and pretending like she didn’t completely rat aeri out to y/n not even a week ago at starbucks.

aeri, in return, only gave her an even more worried look, the one that she usually had whenever she sighed deeply and went “ughhh i don’t knowww..”, but this time she just stayed quiet. she was gonna have to watch from afar, yet again.

ning eventually gave up on convincing aeri to talk to you and went to go have well-deserved fun which meant finding minjeong and grinding on her just to piss her off. aeri, on her side of the room, was leaning on the wall and just kept staring at you, dramatically drowning in her own despair as she took small sips of her drink, sighing and biting her lip.

that’s when you two made unintentional eye contact, the both of you feeling awkward and quickly looking away, the ‘wanting to sneak a glance at someone but not knowing they were already looking at you in the first place’ cliche, if you will. that’s when aeri decided she needed to grow some balls! she exhaled sharply, taking one big gulp of her vodka, then gripped the cup in her hand for security.

she was gonna talk to you tonight, whether you liked it or not.

the next time you looked at her from across the room, she was already staring you down, which caused you to look back at her, trying your hardest to look intimidating, and also somewhat hot? you ran your hand through your hair, grabbed your drink from the table next to you and took a sip, holding very intense eye contact with her. the alcohol went down your throat, spiky, and you did your best in not grimacing. you were also hoping this wouldn’t start anything violent, considering that heejin went to go dance and kazuha was probably somewhere in the house, standing in a corner playing candy crush on her phone, so you were kinda powerless in this situation.

seeing you stare at her like this, all while swallowing some strong ass alcohol as if it was a regular tuesday for you turned her on way more than she’d like to admit. it infuriated her how pretty she found you in your ridiculous, bland, stupid, cute outfit. oh she was livid. she took one or two step towards you as she was practically guzzling down her drink, as if to challenge you.

oh it was on.

-

“heyy kazu, have you seen y/n? i can’t find her, she’s not upstairs nor is she in the basement.” heejin asked, leaning on the table. she wasn’t exactly worried about where you could’ve been, just weirded out. you’d usually stay in one place for a whole event then go home after a few hours.

kazuha, looked around, slightly tipsy, but still being able to articulate proper words, “uhhhhh no? last time i saw her she was downstairs chugging down booze. knowing her, she’s probably drunk as fuck right now.”

heejin furrowed her eyebrows hearing that whole sentence, “drunk?? what do you mean y/n’s drunk, she never gets drunk???”

-

you snatched the random vodka bottle that was conveniently next to you, ignoring the wasted frat boy whining and telling you to put it back, then you take a step of your own towards her. you very aggressively take off the lid of the bottle and chug it down, which you very quickly realized was a really bad decision. since you barely drank in your day to day life, you were already sorta drunk, so making out with the bottle and drinking all of its fluid was not helping. you felt your vision go blurry.

several, and i mean several minutes of taunting each other, getting voluntarily tipsy out of your minds and getting progressively closer to each other, you ended up face to face. her hooded eyes piercing through yours. her face slightly flushed from alcohol. her bottom lip swollen from the amount of times she bit into it while looking at you and oh my god her eyeliner looks really really really well done? you wished you could do it as good as he-

focus, y/n. this is war. confront her, ask her why she’s this much of an asshole all the time, why she’s been on your ass ever since you quote retweeted that definitely-not-pretty-at-all picture, why she totally has a big humongous lesbian crush on yo-

suddenly, you felt her lips on yours, hungrily kissing you, seemingly not giving a fuck about who sees. her hands roaming your body, gently tugging at your hoodie as she made out with you.

what the fuck?

what the fuck??

wow her lips felt nice?? you confusingly kissed her back, with just as much desperation. you couldn’t lie that the kiss was making you feel some sort of way, especially with the manner that her hands sneakily cupped your ass as you allowed her tongue to roam your mouth, quietly whimpering at the feeling. she wouldn’t hear it anyways, not only was she completely out of it, but the music was also too loud to even hear anything of the sorts.

she pulled away for a quick while, hazily smirked at you and gently grabbed your wrist, leading you into what seemed like… the bathroom? you really couldn’t tell, your vision was a blur. you quickly put the bottle somewhere on a counter close by before entering the restroom.

the only thing on your barely functioning mind at that moment was kissing aeri again.

-

“there you are. i’ve been looking for you for what felt like hours.” said minjeong, staring down at a red-eyed jimin, sitting on the couch holding a lit and rolled up joint whilst giggling.

“sorryyyy, i was exploring this one girl’s body right then some really hot guy joined in? shit was wild minjeongie you should’ve been the-“

“i don’t give a flying fuck about all of that yu jimin, we’re out of booze, fix it. quickly.” coldly ordered the shorter girl as she crossed her arms, making the taller one groan annoyingly.

“oh my goddd girl, i put a bottle on the table downstairs, just drink from that.” whined jimin, taking yet another puff of her almost finished joint.

“yeah, i was going to until y/n took the bottle. i have no fucking clue where she put it, so get up and go get more.”

-

there you were, leaning on one of jimin’s bathroom doors, hand on the knob to block anyone from entering. aeri was pinning you to it, her head in the crook of your neck, kissing and licking on it while her hands rest on your waist, fingers occasionally digging in.

your top was off, because according to her, “it needed to go”, which could mean multiple things ranging from sexy to just mean, but you were too drunk to even comprehend simple words, so you shrugged it off and just took off your hoodie for her, leaving you with only your bra.

with time, she went further down with her mouth, getting to your collarbone and placing hungry kisses there, then to your barely clothed boobs, where she did the same thing. you could feel her smiling stupidly against you as she kissed them, then she wrapped her arms around you, unhooking your bra.

she put her mouth on one of your nipples as soon as they were exposed, making you gasp at the sensation that was amplified by 10, thanks to the alcohol you consumed earlier. one of her hands now groping your other tit and playing with the bud. you felt her other hand tease your lower stomach, slowly sliding it down your sweatpants.

“fuck aeri..” you quietly moaned out, feeling her smirk against you yet again, gently rubbing her long fingers on your clothed and embarrassingly wet cunt. it angered you, how horny she got you.

she pulled away from your chest, looking at you cockily as she slightly tilted her head, “you’re so wet for me y/n, i thought you hated me?” she scoffed.

does she ever shut up?

you rolled your eyes, now annoyed, “god, you’re so fucking infuriating.. use your mouth for something good for once and just eat me out already. you’re the one who dragged me in here, so shut the fuck up and do something.” you saw how aeri’s smirk dropped a tad bit, oh how it amused you. she definitely wasn’t expecting you to be this.. demanding. it, very surprisingly, turned her on. a lot.

she was always the one doing the talking, she was always doing the ordering, now why were you always the one to make her discover things about herself, damn it?

you groaned at her. she was looking at you like some baffled dumbass. you grabbed her straightened long brown hair in a swift motion, earning an unexpected but very welcomed whine from her.

“did you not hear me? take my pants off and get on your fucking knees, i don’t have all night.” you sternly said, watching how her eyebrows furrowed, she really didn’t like the idea of you being in control of things and it showed. yet, she obeyed, like the good little bitch she was, she obeyed.

as soon as she pulled your pants and panties down, aeri got on her knees and looked up at you with glossy eyes, probably tearing up from the pain she felt on her scalp when you pulled on it. that poor girl, her expression a mix of anger, lust and fear of what you might do to her.

in response, you could only chuckle, seeing her this vulnerable looking, completely at your mercy, it did something to you. you never thought you’d enjoy this, especially due to the fact that you’re usually the submissive one in these types of situations, but it seems like the alcohol was doing the speaking for you.

“come on, get to work puppy.”

she kept eye contact, exhaled heavily as she closed her eyes a moment, giggled nervously as she mumbled a small ‘what the fuck am i doing.’ then, ended up going in.

her tongue gave small puppy licks to the entire surface of your slit, messily tasting the slick that was coated all over it, eventually teasing also your folds and entrance. you threw your head against the door you were leaning on, running your hand through her now not-so-straight hair, so intoxicated that you couldn’t control the noises that came out of you, you just kept calling out her name, you just kept muttering how much of a good bitch she was being for you, and she loved every second of it.

aeri, apparently was too, heavily intoxicated, because whenever she gave a suckle to your clit, or even when she inserted her tongue inside of you, she just couldn’t help but let out every noise that wanted to come out of her mouth. humming and moaning your name against your core, even digging her new nails into your hips and thighs.

“open your mouth baby.” you ordered, running your thumb across her wet bottom lip.

“m-mhm.” she moaned, looking up at you with teary eyes, her mascara running down her cheeks, her eyebrows upturned as she stuck out her numb tongue. you spat in her mouth, still rubbing her lip with your thumb. she didn’t even bother to question it, she just swallowed it like the stupid, desperate whore she is for you.

despite how exhausted you might’ve been, despite how blurry everything was to you at that moment, despite how confused you still were about everything, one thing you did know was that she was making you feel soooo good, you couldn’t stop using her pretty mouth, so much so that you planned on using it all night long.

-

“no seriously where the fuck is y/n?? i’m not leaving without her jimin.” yelled a very worried, very tipsy heejin, screaming at jimin while kazuha, the only one remotely sober at that moment, held her back from jumping the other girl.

“damn girl, relax.. your friend is probably somewhere upstairsss.. i’ll send her off tomorrow whenever she wakes up, okay? now please, leave.”

and just like that, the door was slammed shut on both of your best friends’ faces. they processed all of it, then had to call a cab to get them home safely.

while in the car, they were both praying you were okay, and that you were sleeping soundly somewhere in that house.

they thought of every possible scenario that could’ve happened to you,

but aeri tonguefucking you all night in the bathroom definitely was not one of them.

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[infiniteinquiries]

♡ Coffee shop au in which ellie is a barista and knows you like her so she keeps making you increasingly terrible drinks to see how far she can push you ♡

pt. 4

pt. 1 // pt. 2 // pt. 3

Ellie froze. She had been caught red-handed. A beat passed before she brushed off your confronting remark. She subconsciously raised her chin, trying her damndest to look unfazed.

"Well, I had to make sure a pretty girl like you wasn't coming back for the flavor profile..." she replied smugly, looking you up and down in the least subtle manner.

She watched as your cheeks burned red. Now you were the one standing there dumbfounded. Ellie wasn't sure why you were surprised, she knew what game you'd been playing. What she hadn't been expecting was your next quip.

"Oh yeah? You caught me. Now how are you gonna pay me back for passing your tests?"

Ellie blinked at you in honest awe of your boldness. She tried her best to control the conversation again.

"Hm. That's fair. How about I give you my number and the best Americano in town and we call it even? The first one is hard to come by, ya know." Ellie smirked wildly, quite satisfied with herself.

She watched your eyes widen in disbelief. Few girls had gotten this far, usually her attitude ran them off by now. Soon after, her eyes trailed your hand as it came up to your chin, tapping it in dramatized thought. You even tapped your foot for ironic effect, Ellie noted.

"Hmmm, deal." You nodded, firm in your agreement. Ellie shook her head and giggled, a genuine girlish laugh escaping her lips. You were something else.

"Come 'ere," she said in a warm smiling tone, "get it tattooed or something, can't have you losing it." She scribbled her number on the back of your hand, the last number slightly smearing in blue ink.

Ellie felt her heart flutter at the stupidly wide grin on your face. It surprised her. Was she really simping this hard right now?

"So uh...are you gonna make that Americano then?" You snorted, averting her gaze and rolling your eyes trying not to laugh. This girl was such a fuckboy it was ridiculous.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. I promise you it'll be the best you've ever had." Ellie replied suggestively. You knew she wasn't just talking about the dark roast.

"We'll see about that," you looked up over your browbone at her like it was a challenge.

Ellie purposely ignored you, wanting to leave you wanting more. She couldn't enable you too much, that was no fun.

She felt your eyes watching her every move as she once again worked the espresso machine with ease. Muscular arms darting between stations, strong shoulders lifting each implement and handle like it was second nature (it was).

She took real joy in her physique, as were you apparently, she mused when she caught you staring.

"I hope you like this as much as you like what you see." Ellie chuckled boyishly.

Here you were again, cheeks flushing. She was hoping to catch you off guard.

Instead of setting the drink on the counter this time, she made sure to slowly pass it directly into your hands, taking just a beat too long to finish the transfer. You cupped the warm beverage between your palms.

You made sure to make eye contact with Ellie as you took your first error-free sip from the roastery. Ellie watched you with intensity, genuinely hoping that she'd blow you away. This time, she was trying to impress you.

The taste of warm cinnamon and rich espresso flooded your senses in a way you could hardly describe. Ellie was right, this was the best damn cup of coffee you'd ever had. It kind of made you angry, in a way.

As you removed the cup from your lips, you paused, blinking slowly.

"Ellie, are you fucking kidding me? I missed out on this for three weeks?" You're tone was dripping with frustration.

She was hoping you would gloss over that now that you had something genuinely good in your hand, but no such luck.

"Well, I suppose your pretty face will be back then?" She chuckled, looking away.

"Ellie, how could I stay away?"

--

Tags: @vgnoxi @bunkisses4u @lovergirlism @radioheadfan699

[auroracalisto]

stupid for you

modern!eloise bridgerton x gn!reader, 1.3k words tw: cuss words. a/n: this is a college au!! title is from the song by Waterparks. it came on while i was writing this so,,, felt like it fit. reader and eloise are stupid for each other and we love them for it

There was just something about that girl in your feminist literature class that you couldn't quite get enough of.

The lilt of her voice as her excitement gets the better of her when she speaks to the teacher, the way each and every thought of hers bodes well and earns each student a new way of looking at the passage. The feminism in her was strong, and her adoration for literature was even stronger.

She was exactly what you wanted to be in life—talented, educated, and outspoken. Effortlessly beautiful, effortlessly incredible.

Or maybe, she's just the person that you really wanted.

To be with. To wake up to after a late night together. To drink iced matcha lattes and eat overpriced bagels while talking about your lives.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, as three o'clock rolled around, you found yourself waiting for the moment you could hear her voice. See her beautiful face. And you hadn't even learned anything about her other than her name—not to mention her gall, but that’s not important.

What’s important is the fact that you hadn't even talked to her. You hadn't asked her for notes or asked for her help with your many essays for the class (even when you knew you truly could have used it). You couldn't tell if you really did like her or if you didn't want much to do with her. After all, if you really did like her, you would have said something.

Maybe.

Maybe you would have.

God, you don't know if you would have.

Just the thought of seeing her sweet face made your cheeks burn and your palms grow sweaty.

You were down bad, but you hadn't a clue as to how you were going to tell her.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, as three o'clock rolled around, Eloise Bridgerton found herself more and more excited to be in the same room as someone as profound as yourself.

She had never been one for superficial things such as someone's appearance, but my god, did she think you were beautiful. She had never liked someone as much as she liked you, and she hardly knew anything besides your name.

Her mother had told her to go for it—ask you on a date. Because after all, the semester would be up in a matter of weeks. You would no longer have classes together unless the Universe decided that's exactly what you would need.

Her elder sister told her she was being silly, and if she really did like you, she just needed to say something. After all, despite the apparent shyness Eloise had at times, she quite truly was an outspoken woman. She could do anything she put her mind to.

But the more she thought about it, the more she became nervous.

Did she need to even tell you?

You probably had a partner. Someone like you surely would.

Right?

Right.

She was down bad for you, and she hadn't a clue as to how she was going to tell you.

But maybe the Universe knew exactly what to do.

Class had been cancelled that Thursday.

Your professor had sent out an email earlier that morning, so you had been running around, getting things done. But it seemed as if things only multiplied as soon as you finished something else.

You found yourself standing in line for a coffee at the campus Starbucks, needing whatever energy it would give you. Or maybe you would get a tea. Hell, you didn't know. This week had beat your ass, and really, you didn't care what you ended up getting.

You told the barista—the guy who sat behind you in your psychology class—what you wanted, and it only took a few minutes to make your drink. After, you made your way over to sit in a booth, tossing your backpack to the side.

Did you even want to do your work?

You had so much you needed to do before the semester was up. You were up to your eyes in Google documents and peer-reviewed journals flooded your tabs—you counted 19 just the night before, out of curiosity.

As you internally debated yourself, you spotted Eloise in the corner of your eye.

She was with her friend, Penelope, and someone else you recognized from your feminist literature class—but you hadn't bothered to remember his name. He never really spoke much. Maybe it was Timothy? Thomas? Something with a 't.'

Penelope scanned the room with joy-filled eyes, a smile growing on her lips as she moved to nudge her friend's arm. You couldn't make out what she was saying, the noise of the student center not helping the fact you couldn't read her lips.

Eloise rolls her eyes, looking back at Penelope.

Thomas—Timothy?—gently pushes Eloise forward, saying something about getting a table.

And then the two left Eloise standing there, alone.

The woman fiddled with the straps of her backpack before she finally looked over at you, her shoulders relaxing almost instantaenously.

She began to smile.

Wait.

Was she smiling at you?

No. No, she wasn't. She couldn't—oh hell, she was walking your way.

Shit, shit, shit, ran through your mind as you sat up straighter, eyes growing wide.

Eloise stopped in front of your table, lips parted in a soft smile. Her hand gripped tighter onto the straps of her yellow backpack, knuckles faintly turning white as she stood just a few feet away from you.

"Hi," she softly said, her voice just as sweet as you remembered.

"Hi."

Shit, say something else!

"You—we have lit together, yeah?" she began, anxiety getting the best of her. Of course, you had lit together! That's how she even knew you to begin with. Eloise silently berated herself, her breath hitched in the back of her throat as she watched you.

"Yeah.. yeah, we do." you paused, looking towards the seat across from you. "You, uh, do you want to sit down? I'm alone and it's not like I'm waiting for anyone, so… I mean, if you want to go to your friends, go ahead, please don’t think I’m gonna make you—"

The smile on her face made you pause.

"I would love to," she said, sitting down across from you. She stuck her bag beside of her, looking over at you from where she now sat.

Your cheeks flushed, a steady burn reminding you just how real this was. It wasn't a dream. She really was right in front of you.

"I'm… sorry for not talking to you, sooner. I always love hearing you speak in class, and I suppose I've just… chickened out every time I've tried to speak with you," Eloise said.

You blinked slowly. "Every time?"

"Yes," Eloise said with a soft laugh. "You think I’d be better at this sort of thing, I know, but you are just… amazing, as far as I can tell. I didn't want to mess anything up. And I tend to do that often, so I just… wanted to be sure."

And with that, her cheeks begin to burn. Panic settled within her and she folded her hands in front of herself, averting her gaze.

"Uh, I mean—"

"—honestly, it's the same for me," you interrupted, unable to hide your smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you ever since the semester started."

She looked up at you with wide eyes. Slowly, her smile returned.

"Well, then. I’m so glad to finally meet you," she said. “Perhaps… perhaps we could plan to hang out sometime soon? Not on campus. Get away from it all for a little bit.”

“Really?” you countered, tilting your head with a smile. “I would love that.”

Eloise only smiled more, and in the corner of her eye, she saw her friends give her equally big smiles and thumbs up. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes falling back on yours as the prospect of getting to know you better became apparent.

She couldn’t wait to tell Daphne.

[gretavanlace]

Sugar (part 17)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, crying, dark themes, digital penetration, etc

The room is too quiet, with only Josh’s soft breath feathering through your hair…you’re so used to both of them beside you. Josh, with his peaceful, lazy slumber, and Jake with his fitful tossing and turning. This is all wrong.

The room is also too dark, Jake always remembers to leave the soft glow of the bathroom light burning for you, so you don’t have to stumble your way through an unfamiliar hotel room night after night. Still, the moonlight allows you to watch his shadow cross the room, dim as a ghost, after you listen to the door whisper open and shut.

Curious as to what his plan is, you feign sleep. Will he crawl into bed and tuck himself around you? Is he simply here to gather his things? Will you have to beg him to stay? Of course, he knows better, he senses your wakefulness and nods his head toward the balcony as he slides the glass door open, silently asking for your company.

Without thought, you follow. Easing the covers back slowly, so as not to wake Josh. You aren’t oblivious to the fact that it needs to be just Jake and yourself for whatever is coming next.

When at last you’re both settled into your respective chairs – you, wrapped in a throw snatched from the foot of the bed on your way out, and Jake quietly tapping his boot with nervous energy. The silence stretches on until he shatters it softly. “I’m sorry I scared you. I shouldn't have thrown whatever it was I threw…I shouldn’t have yelled. I hate myself for the way you looked at me.”

“I know you’re sorry.” you’re both staring out into the night, avoiding the other’s eyes. You scan the city…it’s quiet now, but it will wake soon enough. A frown creases your forehead as you try to imagine venturing out into the reality of it all, now that your world has been upended.

“I meant what I said, sugar.” the sadness in his voice makes your chest ache. “You have to choose. I can’t…” a tiny sob interrupts him, but he swallows it down. “I just can’t anymore.”

“Why, Jake?” your voice is so scarce you hardly recognize it. “We don’t even know anything for sure, yet. You’re overreacting.”

He shakes his head slowly, why won’t he look at you? “It’s not just that, and I think you know it. This was never going to work. I’m not Josh with his blind acceptance bullshit, and I need you to choose.”

You don’t miss a single beat, “Then I chose him.”

He doesn’t miss a beat either as he moves to stand, mute tears stiffening his stance.

“Sit.” you order gently.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he does as he’s told without argument.

“I remember the first time I saw you, you know?” you begin. “Everything about it. I remember what you were wearing. I remember what you were drinking; a martini out of a whiskey glass because martini glasses are ‘top heavy and pretentious’, you told me later. I remember you had a handful of peanuts, but you were plucking them up one at a time instead of shaking them into your mouth like anyone else in the world would have. You babied those peanuts around for ages. I thought it was the strangest thing.”

“So?” he’s trying his best to sound cool and collected…a stiff upper lip, though British he isn’t.

“Shh.” you hush. “I wanted to talk to you. Badly. It was like this magnet in my chest, right where my heart lives, pulling and pulling and pulling. I’ve never felt anything like it before, or since. I needed you, and I didn’t even know you. I felt like I’d missed you for a thousand years, and I was finally home.”

“But you didn’t talk to me, did you?” his voice carries a jaded edge you wish would go away. “I remember that night too…you ended up lost in the charms of my charismatic twin all night long. Apparently, not much has changed.”

“Jake…”

“No!” he snaps, tears straining his voice “You pick him? How could you say that to me? I’d die for you right fucking now if that’s what you wanted. Anything…I’d give you fucking anything…and you choose him?”

“Anything?” you question, staring into his eyes, though they’re so tortured you long to look away. They’re like wishing wells…dark and deep. Endless in their pain. You want to turn and forget the agony living in his gaze, but you can’t leave him alone in his suffering.

“Anything.” he nods urgently, frenetic need radiating into the air around him.

“Then stop, Jake…please,” you beg, reaching out to grope for his fisted hand. “I choose him because he loves me enough not to ask me to choose…he’s not the one forcing me to tell this terrible truth.”

He grabs your fist in his own and you melt into this small concession “What terrible truth?”

“That I love one of you more.” the tears you’ve been blinking away are twisting at your throat relentlessly, rendering you hardly able to so much as whisper.

“Maybe he just doesn’t care as much.” he argues, but there’s nothing behind it, he sees that it’s a ridiculous statement…he’s grasping cruelly at straws.

“That’s a lie and I think you know that better than even I do.” you wait until his gaze finds yours. “He would never ask me to choose because he knows, Jake. He knows.”

“He knows what?” He wants to hear you say it, and you’ve never been more disappointed in him. It seems such a blatant disregard for Josh. For his love for the both of you. For what he’s sacrificed.

You pull your hand away, finally able to drag your eyes away from his. “I won’t say it. Don’t ask me again.”

“Baby,” he’s on his feet now, moving to sink to his knees down in front of you, mirroring his brother’s stance earlier with his head in your lap. “Please, don’t do this to me. I can’t live without you. I can’t...”

“I’m not doing anything!” you snap, harsh and choked. “You are! Why are you doing this? Why are you ruining everything? Can’t we just…” the tears will no longer stand for being contained and the moment one falls, you lose it completely. “Can’t we just go back to the way it was? I know you’re upset, but…”

“Hey…” his hands are smoothing the hair away from your face. “Breathe sugar, c’mon, love…deep breaths. Don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry?” you’re incredulous as you swat his hands away. “Don’t fucking cry? Why, Jake?”

His face turns away, as if he feels ashamed. “Why, what?”

“Oh, now you’re going to play stupid? I don’t think so. Answer me.”

He draws in the deep breath he was asking you to take and sits back, wrapping his arms around his knees as he pulls them to his chest protectively. “Do you know what it’s like to be your afterthought? To never be the one you chose? It’ll always be him.”

“Jake…” you reach for him but he pulls back.

“No. It’s always him. Even as kids. Our parents loved him more–”

“That isn’t true!” you protest.

“Maybe not so much now, but I couldn’t stay in line the way Josh could, he was easier for them. Sammy isn’t the favorite…he just likes to think that. Josh is. Fuck, even Ronnie loves him best. Our friends always liked him more, our friends' parents, teachers, everybody, Josh Josh Josh.”

“Baby, listen…” you try again.

“No you listen.” he speaks quietly, but with an edge he almost never has with you. “Do you know that they called me ‘the other Josh’ in school for a while? Like I didn’t even matter aside from being his twin? And then we’re older, and it’s my band, except it isn’t, because he’s the lead, right? And the frontman owns every gig, every interview…but I’m not supposed to feel shitty about that because he’s giving his shit up for mine, so fuck my feelings.”

You reach out for him again…this time he allows you to pull him in close, and his head drops into your lap once more.

It’s quiet for a stretch and then he offers a sorrowful, “They call us the sun and moon, you know? That’s real sweet and all, but guess who’s the sun, sugar? I can handle being the moon to the rest of the world, but I want to be your sun.”

“The moon is just as important.” It’s a stupid thing to say, this obviously isn’t the point at all. You stroke his hair, wishing you could draw the pain out of his heart. You long to brush it aside for him, to send it floating into the night, lost and forgotten forever.

His palm has found its way to your belly…he touches over it carefully, reverently, and with a softness radiating from him that is nearly visible. “What if there’s a little life in here? Then what? How do you make that work in your head?”

“I haven’t tried to make anything work in my head yet, Jake.” you cover his hand with your own. “Partly because we don’t know anything for sure, but mostly because I’m scared to death for about a thousand different reasons, and you aren’t making anything any easier.”

He sits back in order to look you in the eye. “I know this is where I’m supposed to apologize, but I won’t. I need this from you, sugar. Either way it goes, I need you to choose. And if it’s him, I need you to both understand when I leave, because I can’t go back to the way things were. I can’t go back to watching you love him.”

You’re suddenly angry with him. So angry. “I know I said I’d choose him because he isn’t the one actively breaking my heart with his selfishness, but no. I won’t choose him. I won’t choose at all. If you want a choice, that’s just too damn bad. You want to stay? Good, come to bed. You want to leave? That’s on you, I but won’t help you fuck this up.”

“I love you.” he reaches pleadingly for your hands. “I love you so much. I always have…it’s always been you. Don’t you understand that? Don’t you get it? I’ve never protested much about sharing with him, about always being in the dark while he lived in the sun, because I never cared about anything enough to fight back. I’m fighting back for you.”

“But you don’t have to fight for me!” you argue adamantly. “You already have me, baby…you already have me. Why now?”

“Because, sugar…listen to me,” he takes your face in his hands. “Because I know how this ends. This ends with you dressed in white walking towards him, not me. This ends with you holding a tiny little person that has my eyes, but also his. This ends with you on a porch, gray and wrinkled holding his hand, not mine. He always wins.”

“I’m not a prize.”

“You are the prize, baby.” his thumb strokes over your cheek. “And you said he knows…well I know it too. I want you to say it. Say it for me, sugar…please?”

He sounds so small, like he might vanish into thin air any moment, like he could be a figment of your imagination. “I love you more.” you speak in a hushed tone, barely audible at all.

It’s wrong, and you hate yourself for it, but it’s more true than anything has ever been. There had been a time when you believed you loved Josh on a deeper level, but it was the familiarity that had tipped the scales in his favor. There was also a time when you believed your heart was divided neatly down the middle, but that was just a pretty lie you told yourself. There is something more with Jake, something that feels almost ancient…like the two of you have always been. Two souls finding each other lifetime after lifetime.

The tension seems to seep from his body as you speak the truth into existence, and then, to your shock, he drops his head to your chest and begins to silently weep.

“Say it again.” tears waver his words.

You want to give in, you want to quell his quiet sobbing and wrap him up in your devotion, but it isn’t right. “No. Never again, Jake…we’re not doing this. I love him, too, so much it makes me crazy, and so do you.”

“I don’t care.” his lips have found yours now, breathing his words into your mouth as his tears dampen your cheeks.

Pulling back to see him clearly, you speak his truth for him. “Yes you do. Now, stop this.”

“No…” before you can register what is happening, he’s tugging the blanket away from you and settling himself closer to you. “Choose. Choose me, sugar. Tell me you want me.”

You pull him in closer and nestle your face into the crook of his neck. “I want you.”

There he goes, fluttering his fingers through your hair again, making you shiver with the blissful warmth of being treasured. “Tell me you want only me.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Jakey…” you guide his mouth to your throat in the hopes that he’ll kiss it. In the hopes that he’ll shut up. In the hopes that he’ll let this die and things will be as they should be come morning.

“Why him?” he whispers, tears still very present in his tone. “Why didn’t you let that magnet in your heart lead the way the night we met? You don’t make any fucking sense.”

Your answer stalls in your melting brain for two reasons. One, his hand is now slipping into your panties, and two, you have no explanation. You’d been drawn to Josh as well, and he had seemed safer, gentler, less likely to break your heart into tiny, aching pieces. Jake had scared you in your overwhelming, visceral, reaction to him. Josh had been a glowing soul, beaming at you with a gorgeous smile. Come say hello… that grin had said, and so you had.

Instead of the response he’s looking for, his fingers dip inside you and draw forth an airy moan as you clench around him…fraught with the need to keep him there, terrified he may never be so close to you again.

“Say it.” he urges, glistening tears streaking down his perfect face as he tucks into that perfect spot, curling, circling and pressing as you relax into the chair, giving yourself over to him.

“No.” You shake your head as it lolls back against the stucco behind you. “Stop asking.”

“Please, sugar…” he’s begging now as your thighs part further for him. “Please, baby…just one more time. Please.”

When your eyes drift open they’re met with his and you find them swimming with a hopeless want. “Say it, baby. Tell me when you cum…tell me, okay? Let me hear it one more time.”

Your hand has dropped down to circle his wrist, hips grinding against his touch as you chase your end. He knows exactly where to touch you, exactly how to touch you…and he has succeeded in unraveling you astonishingly quickly.

“There you go, pretty girl…” he nods, leaning in to sweep his tongue along your bottom lip. “That’s my good girl…I love you baby, I love you so much.”

“Jake…” your entire body is aflame, burning and raging, and he is all you need in this moment. “I’m so close…I’m gonna —”

“Say it!” he repeats the demand over and over, his mouth pressed close to your ear.

Say it say it say it say it…clouds your brain, his voice blurring your thoughts as his hand takes you apart.

“I love you more…” you breathe quietly as you let go and sink into the sweet warmth of release. “I loved you first…I love you more, I always have.”

Coherency begins to return to you as his fingers slow, gently guiding you back to the present, and it registers in your fuzzy mind that you’ve heard a strangled sound behind you. Your eyes dart to Jake’s, only to find him staring over your shoulder with a territorial force you can’t begin to understand.

A moment too late, you look over your shoulder to catch Josh disappearing back inside, leaving your heart to twist so fiercely in your chest you fear you might be suffering through cardiac arrest.

“Oh my god…” you hurry to push Jake away, readying to ask how much he thinks his twin might have heard, but then you catch sight of it…that hint of smug satisfaction in Jake’s eyes.

“You knew he was there…” you gasp, blindsided by his cruelty. “You knew he would hear it.”

He looks away, either unable or unwilling to even attempt a lie.

“How could you, Jakey?” the use of such a familiar nickname seems out of place, since right now you feel like you don’t even know him.

“He needed to know.” he offers quietly.

You briefly think about debating this with him. Of course he didn’t need to know…Jake just wanted it that way…but you abandon that in favor of chasing after Josh and his surely broken heart.

“Sugar, just wait a minute…” Jake slinks back when you push him away and rush to your feet.

You silence his pleas by sliding the door shut as your entire world burns down around you.

“Josh?” you call out softly, only to be met with silence.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gardenofgreta @greta-van-chaos @theweightofstardust @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @seventieswhore @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretasmokerising @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @tripthelightfandomtastic @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @dakotadovato @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @avagvf @rhythm-of-space @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @agirlwithmanytastes @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @joshkiszkas @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @loofypoofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @saoirsemaeve @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @gretavanflowerpower @mywickeddivinity @calumspretty

[in-a-mountain-pool]

Playing House CH1

pronouns: she/her (afab)

warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort,

summary: A childhood friend and neighbour of the Bennett family, Y/N fights the war on the Homefront, and looks back on her life and *almost* love with a certain Sailor.

pairings: Tom Bennett x reader

wordcount: 1018

The nights were long during the first few months of the war. You'd desperately wanted to do your bit from the start, what with losing a father to the first great war. The war to end all wars, they had called it. You'd wanted to be a nurse just like your mum and make her and your dad proud. But after the selection process they'd decided you were too 'gentle' for a war hospital environment, and supposedly had a knack for maths and electronics. Before you knew it, you'd been taken on as a switch board operator at the war office sending messages across the country, often times the bearer of bad news more than good. This evening you'd pulled a gruelling shift and things were apparently only going to get worse as word came in there had been a particularly nasty battle out in the Java Sea. Whilst you'd avoided the sight of the bloodshed, being the first to know it had happened was almost even worse. Having to tell the poor sod on the other line that their squadron were not coming back was heart-breaking and never got any easier. There was no good way to tell anyone the sort of news which had become common place to you.

Your mind was working on autopilot, the 8-hour day soon turning to 14 hours, with hardly the time for even a tea break and a biscuit, or even a smoke. As your hands started to shake changing wires in the dim light of the room, a voice shakes you from your deep concentration, and gentle manicured hands take the wire from your grip softly.

"Y/N, girl, you've got to stop, alright? You'll waste away if you keep this up. Go home, yeah? We can take it from here. Your mum will be beside herself with worry."

Betty, your best mate at work had already brought you your coat and you were so tired you let her stand you up as she placed it on your shoulders and hooked your gas mask over your shoulder.

"Churchill would be proud of you today, love. Your finest hour indeed. But you've gotta take care of yourself, eh? Can’t fight the Germans without fuel and a good night’s rest."

The older woman gave me a warm knowing look and sent me on my way, and I walked down the streets of Manchester briskly in the dark of the night.

As I approached my childhood street and our small, terraced house, it was deadly quiet and crisp outside in the night that even the jangle of my housekeys seem disruptive. Not a soul was out, not even the patrons of local pub were kicking up a fuss, not even on a Friday night. It was hard not to feel a sense of discomfort, like the calm before the storm. I push the front door open quietly, Mum was almost definitely in bed at this hour and I didn’t want to risk waking her when she had a long shift ahead of her at the hospital in the morning... but then out of the corner of my eyes, I see a small rectangle of light peeking out from beneath the door to the living room. She never waited up for me. Not even when I went out with the girls at work for drinks. Tired and dejected, I decide to leave her be and deal with her dramas in the morning, and I start to climb the staircase slowly, until a soft creak gives me away.

"Y/N, is that you? Come in, I need to talk with you."

My hand grips the rail tighter, as a wave of discomfort washes over me, and my stomach turns. Mum appears in the hall, wrapped up tight in her dressing gown, bathed in the warm light of the fireplace.

"Darlin' come on, I just made a cuppa, come and sit with me alright?"

She gently coaxed me out of my coat and sat me down, placing a small plate of supper she'd obviously kept for me, and a warm cup of earl grey in my hands. She came to sit down opposite me at the dining room table and started staring at me expectantly, taking my hand in hers tightly. Why on earth was she being so careful with me? She was treating me like I was made of glass, and soon worrying thoughts started to race through my head as she began to speak.

"So... Did you hear the news...at the office today?"

My green eyes search hers cautiously as I take a sip of the warm tea and reply in a tired voice.

"When I was leaving, we'd just got news about a battle in the Indonesian Sea... but Betty insisted I come home, 'was getting the shakes and all that. No time for lunch when Jerry is wreaking havoc out there."

At this she grips my hand a little tighter and my heart gets colder as she quietly prods me on.

“So, you… you do know then?"

…

The pause goes on for a long moment, like she's waiting for me to crack or something, looking at me like whatever she was going to say might break me. I'm so knackered and aching from the day that my patience is worn thin, and my reply comes out as a harsh snap.

"Oh hell, Mother, do I know what? Please just tell me whatever has happened, alright? You're frightening me."

Her face drops, and I can see her start biting her lip, and it’s only then that I really look at her in the darkened room and I can see her eyes are swollen and pink from crying, with a worrisome look etched across her face.

"Love, the battle today against the Graf Spree... well, the HMS Exeter was there... and she's been sunk. Mr Bennett, he came by to see me all in a panic and-"

My whole world crashes down as I hear about Douglas, and the only thing I can picture is *his* face. Blue eyes flash in my memory, the smell of spring, the feeling of his hand in mine… and all of a sudden, I feel like I can hardly breath. I gasp harshly, only one word, one name, leaves my lips.

"Tommy."

[eile24downtown]

Genuine

Bellamione

Day April 14

Prompt: Genuine

Word count: 1248

Coffee Shop AU

@sapphicmicrofics

Read here on ao3

She was the most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen. Every morning without fault, she’d come into the coffee shop and Hermione’s heart would skip a beat when she’d reach the register and place her order. Hermione would tell her the total, she’d receive her card, charge her and then get to work on her beverage. A simple black coffee, strong, no sugar. Except during rainy mornings, when she’d ask for a hot chocolate instead.

The raven-haired woman would always saunter in alone and leave alone. Except for that one day when she walked in with a posh blonde. Her features were just as royal as the black-haired woman’s and Hermione couldn’t help the flair of jealousy that was lit deep inside her. For weeks she’d tried to get the woman’s attention with no avail, and suddenly here was this woman who managed to procure both her attention and friendly chatter without much effort. Were they friends? Family? Lovers?

Hermione’s nose flared at the thought. So what if the fair woman held a romantic relationship with the dark beauty? What was it to her? The only good thing to come from that morning was the fact that she’d finally learnt the woman’s name.

-

“Honestly Bellatrix, I’ve postponed brunch with Andromeda several times now. Can’t you leave work for only a morning and tend to your sisters?” the blonde woman asked with a cold tone; it sounded as if a mother was talking down to her daughter. But Bellatrix hardly seemed to notice.

“No,” she simply responded before answering an incoming call and walked away to wait for their drinks.

-

After that day, Hermione had become obsessed with the name. Apparently, the only name that could hold a candle to the beauty that this woman donned; a beauty that could only be rivaled by the star itself. And from that day forward, she vowed to get a reaction from the woman; to make her notice her, see her, listen to her, talk to her. She made it her goal to get to know this woman, because after having tended to her morning drinks, she’d never once managed to obtain anything more than a nod or her order’s name. Not even when she’d greet her with a friendly “Good morning, how are you today?” The older woman simply spoke her purchase and would be on her way.

But that would change. Hermione was determined to get a sincere reaction from the dark beauty. She’d get a genuine reply from her if it was the last thing she did.

-

“Good morning, what will you be having?” Hermione asked without looking up for the umpteenth time that morning.

“Name’s Albert love, and a hot mocha with your number on the side would be lovely,” the cockish man on the other side of the counter answered. Hermione couldn’t help but grimace openly at the stranger who leant over confidently on the countertop, quickly getting Hermione to take a step back behind the cash register. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the man. He seemed just slightly older than her, but his Salvador Dali mustache and stinky cologne was doing nothing to ease her in the slightest.

“A mocha,” she grumbled irritably. “Anything else?”

“Your number darling,” the annoying patron repeated with a growing smile. “You sure are a looker,” he winked. Completely forgetting the ‘the customer is always right; every single customer is important’ guideline, that her boss never tired of reminding her, out the window, Hermione prepared to give the man a piece of her mind, and maybe even a piece of her fist, when that voice stopped her. The voice she hoped to hear every morning. The voice that was the highlight of her day. The voice that belonged to the most beautiful woman she’d ever laid her eyes on.

Bellatrix.

The goddess of a woman was standing behind the lanky fellow with a look on her face that screamed murder.

“You do know harassment is illegal, don’t you, Albert?” the dark-haired woman spat his name in disgust as said man turned around to look at her, clearly surprised at being caught.

“I wasn’t harassing her,” he laughed nervously as he pointed to Hermione. “We were just talking, weren’t we love-”

“No, we weren’t,” Hermione ground out, effectively cutting him off.

“But-”

“But nothing.” It was now Bellatrix’s turn to cut him off. “So, if you don’t want me calling the police on your sorry excuse of a man,” she sneered, “then I suggest you piss off and not dare bother the young lady again. Better yet, don’t ever show your face around here again if you don’t want a lawsuit placed on your sleezy arse for sexual harassment.” Bellatrix was fuming by the time she finished telling the man off and Albert had no other choice than to scamper off like a dog with its tail between its legs. Hermione could’ve laughed at the sight. And she almost did, except an ‘ahem’ caught her attention.

Bellatrix was now at the counter, credit card in hand and waiting for Hermione to take it.

“Sorry,” the brunette blushed as she took the card and swiped it. “And thank you,” she smiled gratefully at the older woman, who in turn simply nodded before motioning to the register.

“You’re not going to ask what I’m having?” Bellatrix asked with a cock of her brow.

Hermione’s eyes grew slightly wide. This was the first time the raven-haired woman actually asked her something. She’d never once uttered anything to her other than her orders.

“Well, it’s raining out, so I’m guessing it’s the house specialty, hot chocolate?” the brunette explained. “You always get hot chocolate when it’s raining.” Bellatrix raised her perfectly sculptured eyebrows at this, surprise coating her features for only a second.

“I never would’ve thought you’d notice,” she mumbled as she took her card back and slipped it into her purse.

“I notice a lot of things,” Hermione claimed boldly, refusing to lower her gaze from the older woman’s face. Gods, she was beautiful.

“Is that so?” the dark-haired woman asked.

“Yes,” Hermione blushed but didn’t back down. “Like the fact that you tend to come in earlier Tuesdays and Thursdays. And you always carry sunglasses when it’s a promising sunny day. And the fact that you tend to put your work first over other things.”

“Do you eavesdrop on all your clients, Hermione?” Bellatrix asked as she eyed her closely.

“How’d you know my na-”

“You’re not the only one who’s been listening in,” Bellatrix smirked, making Hermione feel lightheaded at her confession. “So? Do you eavesdrop on everyone else’s conversations?”

Hermione had to find the willpower to get her mouth to work and her voice to come to. “Only the ones I like,” she admitted daringly because honestly, what did she have to lose?

“Is that so?” Bellatrix challenged, leaning herself on the wooden counter to whisper, “Why don’t you call me tonight to tell me just how much you like me?” before shooting the brunette a genuine smile and walking away to the far side of the counter to await her drink. It wasn’t until she was knocked out of her stupor by the next customer in line that she noticed something next to the cash register. It was a business card that read Bellatrix Black, CEO, Black Communications, Inc. And underneath that, her cellphone number.

Today was very much a good day.

[desertfangs]

Do you really think Daniel didn't go mad?

I assume this is a question about this post, which I fired off last night. I stand by it, but the answer is no, I don't think he was really sane the whole time.

I do take Marius at his word that Daniel is enthralled in some form of madness. As I talked about before in a post I can't find, the first time I read that I was like wait, what? And I've reconciled that by deciding Daniel spiraled after learning that Armand had gone into the sun and thought he was dead, as I wrote about in this post. I have worked his madness into my personal fanon and I even wrote a big 8k depressing fic about Armand learning that Daniel was mad (a series I may continue!)

But I do think it's funny/frustrating/sad that in canon we get so very little about it because Daniel has long been my favorite character and to have him shunted aside and told he's mad and get so very little about the why, when, or how is just one of those Little Vampire Chronicles Things I guess.

Here's most of what we get from Marius, as he explains the situation to Throne in Blood & Gold after taking him into the room where Daniel is crafting his model worlds:

"This house is full of many rooms like this," said Marius in an even voice, his eyes looking at Thorne gently. "Look below. One can purchase thousands of little trees, and thousands of little houses." He pointed to stacks upon stacks of small containers on the floor beneath the table. "Daniel is very good at putting together the houses. See how intricate they are? This is all that Daniel does now." Thorne sensed a judgment in Marius's voice but it was soft, and the youngish blood drinker paid no attention. He had taken up another small tree, and was examining the thick green portion which made up its leafy upper limbs. To this he soon applied his little paintbrush. "Have you ever seen one of our kind under such a spell?" Marius asked. Thorne shook his head, No, he had not. But he understood how such a thing could happen. "It occurs sometimes," said Marius. "The blood drinker becomes enthralled. I remember centuries ago I heard the story of a blood drinker in a Southern land whose sole passion was for finding beautiful shells along the shore, and this she did all night long until near morning. She did hunt and she did drink, but it was only to return to the shells, and once she looked at each, she threw it aside and went on searching. No one could distract her from it. Daniel is enthralled in the same way. He makes these small cities. He doesn't want to do anything else. It's as if the small cities have caught him. You might say I look after him." .... Then a low genial laugh came from the youngish blood drinker. "Daniel will be this way for a while," said Marius, "and then his old faculties will come back to him." "The ideas you have, Marius," Daniel said with another little easy laugh. It was hardly more than a murmur. Daniel dipped the brush again into the paste that would make his little tree stick to the green grass, and he pressed the tree down with appropriate force.

And then in Prince Lestat we're told by Lestat that David found Marius in Brazil and Daniel is in good spirits and apparently leading David to Marius, but we don't learn if Lestat knew anything about Daniel's previous madness unless I missed it. He doesn't seem surprised Daniel is in good spirits, but maybe that is a reference to the fact that he previously was not?

Marius says of him:

It was Daniel who had languished for many a year—shocked, deranged, lost, unable to care for himself—in Marius’s care until only a couple of years ago when his sanity, ambition, and dreams had been restored to him.

And that's basically all we really get. Because it's addressed so poorly in canon, you can sort of argue that Marius' perception is all wrong, as he's the only one who even mentions it (as far as I recall!) We never get anything about it from Daniel himself (nor more of his POV ever! Shame!) or from Armand, to whom Daniel is obviously incredibly important.

In fact, Daniel pretty much vanishes by the end of this book, and we learn only he's going hunting with Armand and later that they're back together, but that's it. So it's never really addressed on a bigger level where we get any other sides of it or any other clues as to what happened or how Daniel felt. Which is why you can argue he wasn't insane at all and there's not a ton in the text to contradict you. And it is kind of funny to imagine that Daniel is just trying to do his own thing and Marius is telling everyone he's lost his marbles because he prefers to chill out and build model train sets or whatever.

The lack of detail is great for fanfic and headcanons though! You can definitely take this in a lot of different directions.

[its-my-whump]

21 Stumbling | Too weak to move

TW: vomitting, weakness, unconsciousness

Just a quick bathroom break. The stacks of papers were pilling on his desk. Tom had a deadline, that was highly imaginary, but his boss was at his back the whole weak. Cramped over his work, his body sour, his neck stiff for days. The unnatural position agitated his back and with that his bad leg.

Tom had thrown in the third pill of painkillers this day. He had eaten a bit, but his stomach didn't favour neither having something in it, nor running on empty.

Washing his hands in the restroom, while taking a look to the miserable form on the other side of the mirror just reassured him: he was looking like he felt.

A wave of fatigue highjacked him on his way back to his desk and he hardly managed to stumble the last few steps. He sat down heavily, feeling a little bit more nauseous than he had before. Apparently standing up and getting his circulation on a jumpstart to follow the call of nature wasn't tolerated that good by his tired body.

Tom felt a shiver starting in his inner core, going through every fibre. His head was lowered for just being too heavy all of a sudden. He could more feel than see the hairs on his arms standing formation, while another shiver shook him. His vision was kind of blurry.

The deep, hectic voice of his boss was carried through the cubicles, but he couldn't make out the words, or to whome they were directed anyway.

Tom's bad leg had turned numb. That was odd. Maybe the last badge of painkillers finally kicked in?

His gaze focused on a stain on the floor in his cubicle. It looked dark. Had he spilled something? He wasn't drinking coffee or any other dark liquids at work. Maybe it was old, created long ago, far longer, then he had been working here. He didn't know. His head was swimming, his vision even more blurry by now. The stain was mixing into the surrounding color of the carpet. Like when you're driving by dark. It's not that clear around the edges, but you don't really notice, because everything is kind of grey anyway.

The static noise in his ears must have tuned out everything else, Tom just realised. The agitated voice of his boss finally coming through again. His eyes caught up with some fancy shoes just at the edge of his vision.

Lifting his head felt like trying to lift a bolder in his currant condition. But he did his best, feeling cold sweat summoning under his hairline.

Apparently this man's lips were moving, his facial expression looked annoyed, but Tom had no idea what he was talking about. Instead his stomach flipped. A desperate hand tried to reach the trashcan under his desk, but he was too slow. A gush of vomit instantly covered those fancy shoes.

Tom slipped from his chair onto his knees and leaned over his bucket, emptying his stomach loudly and ungraciously. He couldn't even feel his bad leg anymore, apparently he couldn't feel anything except his intestienes trying to escape him.

There was some commotion in the cube farm, then everything went deadly still, despite his own noises.

But Tom was only concentrated on the inside of the bucket, or more bringing his insides to its inside. Black spots exploded in his vision. After what felt like eternity, he had reached a point of dry heaving and his body wouldn't cooperate anymore. He was too weak to move, even an inch.

Unfortunately, he felt his hold on the rim of the trashcan slipping and his already numb knees losing any tension. With a last effort he managed to redirect his balance point to the right, so not flipping over the bucket while falling. Tom was unconscious before his limb form hit the floor.

My whumptember2023 masterlist

[caricature-of-fic]

mini fic #2 for 1x05 Never Kill a Boy on the First Date

Angel (+ brief mentions of Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Owen); general audiences; no pairings but implied Angel pining I guess

---

For a Slayer, she spends a remarkable amount of time shirking her duties.

He doesn’t have much experience with Slayers, of course. He’s always tended to avoid them, if he could, he isn’t— he hasn’t spent much time in their company. Or studying their habits. So perhaps what Buffy is doing is entirely normal.

(He’s seen the Watcher’s expression at times, though; heard the tone of his voice, the exasperated words, as he’d hidden in the shadows, ever unsure if or when he should reveal himself and address her. The Watcher does not think that what Buffy is doing is normal. It probably isn’t, then.)

Clearly, however, the Watcher stands little chance against her force of will, because too often Angel has to look for her in a crowded club rather than a deserted cemetery. If he looks at it objectively, that’s probably a good thing. She’s young, she’s pretty, she should get to dance and have fun and live a little before she has to devote all her time to her Calling.

He finds it very, very hard to look at it objectively. He doesn’t want to have to look for her in a crowd. He’s really not a fan of crowds, these days, and isn’t that funny. A century ago he’d have made himself right at home—assuming the absence of a Slayer, of course—would have picked the most appealing out of the mass of bodies and had himself a right good time.

Now, having spent so long firmly staying away from people, he ducks through the door and wishes he could turn right around. Over the noise of music and half-yelled conversation, he can barely hear himself think, and the scent of cheap, sugary drinks mixes with the scent of sweat mixes with the overpowering scent of young, human life, and something inside Angel roars with glee and hunger at it all, while something else, something only barely stronger, is so repulsed by the scene and his own reaction that it makes him sick.

He holds his breath. Buffy. He’s here for Buffy. He’ll find her, and warn her, and maybe talking to her a little will be a nice distraction, and then he can leave.

Buffy is not particularly receptive to his warning. Buffy already knows what he is here to warn her about, and doesn’t seem to care. Buffy is here with a boy, and clearly wants Angel to leave.

That should work out just fine, then, because Angel wants to leave. He’s done what he came here for. It’s just that he’s getting the impression that Buffy doesn’t really understand the urgency of the situation. And that the boy she’s here with—Owen, she tells him, and he makes an effort to be normal and polite and normal—well, he seems a bit like an idiot. Although Angel couldn’t say what exactly he’s basing that impression on.

Fine. He’s being normal. He can be normal, he’s getting back into what normal means, in this decade and century and as someone who’s trying to be helpful to humans instead of arranging to do unthinkable things to them or simply avoiding them altogether. He can do this. Although it’s easier when he can just talk to Buffy straight without some clueless little boy around—Buffy isn’t entirely normal, after all, though she blends in much more easily—and her friends suddenly arriving to also speak to her in badly concealed code.

He really wants to leave.

In the end, it’s Buffy who leaves, together with the other two. And Angel, somehow, is still standing amidst the crowd, next to the boy—Owen—who stares in the direction Buffy just disappeared towards, and shakes his head, apparently astonished. “She is the strangest girl.”

It’s not how Angel would have put it. It seems rude. Even if not entirely wrong.

Perhaps he should follow her. What he told her is true, after all—the prophecy means danger, and her little friends are hardly going to be of much use. But then Owen suddenly mumbles something about having to leave and takes off almost in a run, and Angel knows he’s going to go after Buffy and to the funeral home and he just—can’t. The singer on stage is crooning into her microphone and echoing in his ears, and he doesn’t know what he really could do if he did follow them all. How could he even be of help? He hasn’t fought anyone in a century, he’s only barely kept himself alive for most of that time. If he tries, he won’t be able to hide what he is from Buffy.

It’s cowardice, of course. But Angel is not quite ready to see her drive a stake through his heart.

[localhornist]

Okay! Here’s day 2 for @rosebird-week ‘s Rosebird week, Hobbies/Downtime. Enjoy!

Can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41829408

When Summer had suggested a board game night, it was supposed to be a nice, calm bonding exercise for the new team. Help STRQ get to know each other, have some downtime after the hectic past few days and just relax. What had happened instead?

“Hah! Suck my nuts, blondie!”

Not that.

“What! Again!?” Tai grumbled, staring in shock at his little dog piece, sitting squarely on one of Raven’s houses. What Summer and Tai hadn’t realised when Raven and Qrow both very quickly agreed to play ‘Property’ was that the game was VERY popular. Popular enough to find its way out of the main cities of the kingdoms. Out into the vast countryside.

And squarely into the hands of two very competitive bandit children with a lot of spare time on their hands and insatiable needs to beat any and all competition.

A light sob came from Tai as he mourned his lost notes, all whilst Raven gleefully took them from his pile, counting up to 390. Even if Tai was just before Go, Raven had nearly bankrupted him on his go around the board. And that would only leave Summer and Qrow to stand in Raven’s way, and Summer was not going to lose this one. She needed a plan, stat.

“Okay!” Summer stood up quickly once Raven was done counting her even greater wealth, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “Why don’t we have a quick break! Raven, can you come help me grab some snacks and drink for everyone?”

“What! Why me?” That earned her a jab in the side from Qrow, who smirked as she scowled at him. “Oh, come on, Rae. I know you don't wanna keep the poor lady waiting.” He teased, waggling his eyebrows which apparently was something that set Raven off, making her go scarlet.

Summer really didn’t get siblings.

“Fine! Just shut up.” She stood up, flicking her hair back over her shoulders, before turning and jabbing a finger in Qrow’s face. “And don’t touch my money.”

Qrow chuckled slyly, placing a single hand on his heart. “Oh, don’t you worry, dearest sister. I’ll keep your hard-earned gains away from that devil Tai.”

“It’s hardly Tai I’m concerned about.” She growled back, looking at said boy's sad form as he stared solemnly at his single 5 note. Raven just shook her head and followed Summer into the dorm's small kitchen area.

“Okay then,” she said, putting her hands on her hips as she spoke. “Where are the snacks?”

“In the cupboard,” Summer said with an edge in her voice. Suddenly, she spun round, startling Raven as she got straight in her face. “But that is not why we’re here.”

“...right. Welp, I’m gonna jus’ head back then-”

“NO, WAIT!” Summer quickly grabbed Raven’s hand in hers, standing there whilst she tried to formulate some thought, all whilst Raven’s face slowly reddened. Eventually, she came up with something.

“I… want to team up.”

“...what?”

“In Properties. I want us to team up for a bit.”

“Oh really, huh?” Raven took her hand away and placed both on her hips, staring smugly. “What happened to ‘showing us Branwens the ropes’, huh?”

Summer pouted, crossing her arms. “Okay, yes, I may have been a little too confident at the beginning; I’ll give you that. But I’ve learnt my lesson. And now I want us to settle our differences and work together!”

“Okay. But you still haven’t given me any reason to team up with you.”

“That’s simple! Oh, can you pour a jug whilst we talk?” Summer replied, opening a cupboard as she did so and beginning to pull out different packets of crisps. Raven meanwhile acquiesced to the girl's command, making up a jug of berry squash. “And as for your question, the reason genuinely is simple. You want to win, right?”

“Duh.”

“Well,” Summer slammed the various snacks she’d grabbed onto the counter and began to pull out multiple bowls and dishes. “You’re not gonna manage that against Qrow’s semblance. Not by yourself.”

“Okay, that may be true.” Raven did have to admit that Summer was right. Qrow’s semblance, Misfortune, certainly gave him a big leg up in games like this. And even if they were twins, both were in the game for themselves. “But why should I team up with you?”

“You think Tai’s gonna give any meaningful resistance. He spent all his money on the dark blues; he’ll be selling his only properties soon.”

“Eh, fair. Blondie isn’t gonna be in much longer.” Raven finished putting ice into the jug and placed it next to the bowls of snacks. “Alright, I’m in. Only until my brother is knocked out.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” It was Summer’s turn to get into Raven’s face, standing slightly on her tiptoes to match Raven’s height, wearing a sinister smirk. “Once he’s gone, you are goin’ down.”

“Heh. Sure, shorty.”

                                                         ~ ~ ~

The plan went perfectly.

At every point, the two worked perfectly. In each bid, one tap meant no, two meant yes. Slowly but surely, they took property after property, quietly sliding one another money when they landed on each other’s property. Summer took orange, Raven took Red. After only a few rolls, they had the two boys cornered, until…

“Hah! Bankrupt!”

Summer stood triumphantly, laughing as Qrow sighed and slid the last of his money over to her pile, along with his only property left. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. No need to rub it in.”

Raven gave him a mock look of compassion. “Aww, but then what would be the point in winning.” Qrow rolled his eyes at her response, laying back with crossed arms. Summer smirked as she rolled the dice.

4.

Their plan had worked. Now all that came was the stab in the-

…

“Oh.”

“Looks like someone owes me muh-neee.” Raven mocked as Summer stared down at the board. She’d landed on yellow. Right atop Raven’s hotel.

“No…..”

“Yep!” Raven began taking her notes as Summer kept staring at the board, completely despondent. Thinking about her mommy, that meant most of her properties had to be mortgaged, having been sat with very little in cash after buying so many houses. She’d practically handed Raven the board on a plate.

“Oh, Summer, Summer, Summer,” Raven spoke mockingly even as she shook her head as if in sympathy, placing a hand on the sad girl’s shoulder. “You should know never to trust a Branwen.” Summer just pouted in response.

“Anyways!” Once Raven finally had her money, she picked up the dice and rolled them herself. “Come on, give mama some good luck.” They rolled, and rolled, and…

A 7.

“Okay! 1, 2,3….” Property after property she went, until…

“Crap.”

She’d landed on one of Tai’s greens.

“Looks like ‘mama’ had some bad luck, huh?” Tai mocked, taking all the notes Raven had just gained and more as she could only watch. Grumbling quietly, she turned to Summer. “Hey, Sums-”

“No. You broke the alliance; now you deal with the consequences.”

“Hmph. Rude.”

The rest of the game would only be a disaster for them. Again and again, the pair was chipped away at, Tai slowly accumulating their wealth as each dice roll drew them closer to…

“Bankrupt!” Tai cheered as Summer landed on his final blue space, just a dice dot from Go. Summer watched in silence as the last of her money went before flopping on Raven with a despondent wine. “Raven, console me!”

“Don’t touch me!” Raven yelled back, but didn’t fight as Summer wrapped her in a pitiful hug.

“Welp, that’s what you get for trying to team up against us,” Tai offered a hand to Qrow, still lying on the floor, who took it as Taiu helped pull him up. Summer and Raven both looked at them in confusion. “Wait, what!?”

Qrow just shrugged. “Yeah, you two weren’t exactly quiet with your plotting in the kitchen, so I just told Tai I’d keep him in the game so neither of you won.”

“Yeah, it was fairly easy, too,” Tai continued. “Qrow just kept passing me money whilst you two weren’t looking. You were so focused on your own sneaking you didn’t notice.”

“I can’t believe you two,” Summer shot back with a quivering lip. Qrow just shrugged. “Hey, that’s just capitalism.” Tai nodded thoughtfully, turning to his partner as the other two stared in disbelief. “Anyway, wanna watch a movie.”

Qrow shrugged. “Sure. Just not that sparkling vampire one again.”

“Hey! Dusk is a very underrated series!” The two continued to bicker as they moved over to the lounge area of the dorm, leaving Raven to flop onto the ground, with Summer still latched onto her.

“Damn. Can't believe they beat us at our own game.”

“I knoowww.” Summer winded into Raven’s now very crumpled shirt. “We were so close too. Tai had nothing left.”

“Yeah. Until someone didn't want to keep the alliance.”

“Hey!” Silver eyes met red as Summer pouted, making Raven look away with a blush. “You betrayed me first!”

“Meh, that’s just semantics.” With a fair bit of effort, Raven stood up, stretching whilst Summer still clutched onto her shoulders. “Ya know, you kinda need to let go, right?”

“Nope! After screwing up our alliance, you owe me, so start by carrying me to the sofa!” Raven sighed, but after looking at Summer's determined eyes and pouting lip, she knew there was no arguing. So, she made her way to the sofa to a cheerful “Yay!” from the girl hanging onto her. That quickly became muffled screams when Raven flopped onto said sofa, burying Summer under her.

If the two stayed wrapped together on the sofa for the entirety of the movie, Qrow and Tai would never say.

[redemptioninterlude]

five times angered to alice 🥸

5 times ... meme ( accepting ) + @wndrbcy // nico five times the sender made the receiver angry

They're so sweet when they first meet. Nico's the one that reaches out to her at first, it's all BRIGHT EYED LOVE and girls supporting girls, which is like, so nice because Alice thinks that she's so cool for what she does. What else could you ask for in new opportunities in life, she thinks. But doesn't it change all too quickly? The moment she meets the rest, the moment Leo looks at her and something sparks, oh oh, she should have seen it clearly, read it like the way you'd divine the future within tea leaves. That the girl was in love with the boy who hardly cared to see her that way, and it's when Alice comes, wide smiles and hands out to take her own as she's leaving their concept meeting that Nico whips her touch away, and Alice feels that sudden sting. Oh. So it was like that then? Something plunging like disappointment in her chest, and then a contemptuous flame licked to life within her chest. A smile that widens, brighter ; blue lenses that blink back, as if nothing happened. How she turns to Leo instead, a smile that looks ready to consume him whole. "Wanna grab a drink?" because knowing people meant knowing just how to fight back.

They play lovers on screen for the video being shot. How Alice flits from person to person, the object of their TEMPORAL AFFECTION, before settling upon the parting shot of her staring, ever so longingly, at Celine's retreating back, the only one with whom hadn't gone chasing after her. And of course, each scene is all too terribly fun to film, and the uniform helps, the idea of schoolyard romances an easy way to plumb the marketing of the song. But Nico, oh, she makes each moment miserable when she can. The pulling of hair, the yanking of her clothes. How she'll mutter the meanest things beneath her breath, to which Alice could only smile, serene, despite the way it grates upon her nerves. But there it comes, when it hits that peak, where she's having her moment aside with Celine, talking about everything, talking about nothing, when she feels cold water poured down over the back of her head, shoulders up, that sudden shock of it there. Whipping round to that stupid expression of contempt on Nico's face, Alice's fury rolling within her mouth until she takes a moment to apparently calm herself, to Nico's apparent gloating victory, before she spits right on her face in response, Alice's laugh an awful, twisting thing.

Right. So that happened. Alice standing in her shorts and nothing else as she looks out the hotel window, palm pressed as she looks to the city. Coming on tour was more of a thing of impulse then planned, that she could dance on stage and have fun with most of the others a treat. But like, everything's about the drinking tonight, they party, they celebrate, it's the LAST SHOW after all. But then there's Nico being her usual self, the brat, the spoilt! And Alice finds herself fuelled by rage, how she kisses her there outside of the club, and Nico, well, she's overwhelmed until they're back at the hotel and she tells her that she'll give her a taste of what Leo loves so much. And didn't that spark the grandest of back and forths? Only now, she knows in a somber, sober way that that was likely not the greatest of decisions, looking behind her as Nico wakes, looking at her with that sudden shock and surprise herself before she managed a fumbling insult, how she wasn't that good, and Alice only smiles. That old anger bubbling back to life within her stomach. Well then. Well.

Alice so rarely ever feels sad! It's better to play as if she was hardly human, because when everything's a game, nobody gets hurts. Do they? Isn't she? Well, she won't let anybody in to know that too well! Even Leo gets a taste, but not the whole meal, that's a complication they prefer to leave for other people, but, she thinks she probably loves him. Which is why when it comes to a particularly SPECIAL DAY, the one that they meet, she puts in the effort. Alice, making tarts worthy of a queen, all jam sticky and sugary warm, it's her way of making something beautiful for the person she holds all too dear. Kept lovely in a box for him back stage, her name spelled in glittery blue on a card for him. They finish up, and Nico's there first, Leo and Alice coming in arm in arm to find her, crumbs on her face and an acidic grin fixed as she tells her that they weren't good enough for Leo, Alice feeling something terrible in her heart, the way her chest contracts in something that feels like anger and sadness in one. A squeeze at his palm. Her smile back at full wattage, as if hardly effected at all. That's how you do it. "Want to celebrate in a more private way then, tonight?" humiliating her perhaps the best offence offered.

Nico knees her in the stomach. Alice bites her at the neck. It's the kind of knock down fight that's been brewing in the making for years now, and it's no surprised when both girls end out bloodied and bruised, Alice's anger glinting somewhere within her gaze as Leo hauls her bodily off of the other girl, eventually. At first he laughs because WHO WOULDN'T, this whole thing is so stupid, so insipid that she's fought it all this time. Nico's nothing but a child, causing trouble for attention - how could she sink this low? But Alice, too, is tired of the disrespect, her teeth bared as they snap and she pulls from the arms that seek to keep her still. "Let me finish this!!!" perhaps the most visibly furious that she's ever been about this whole toxic love affair, forgetting all about the almost-sensual encounter that the other girl had interrupted when laying in wait within their hotel room. "The bitch fucking deserves it!!!"