#am i missing the drama?? tell me! let's gossip!

[spookysteddie]

That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it. 

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees. 

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted. 

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous. 

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!” 

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?” 

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.” 

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers. 

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.” 

… 

You should’ve changed your mind. 

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you. 

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time. 

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face. 

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands. 

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long. 

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it. 

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-” 

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.” 

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa. 

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!” 

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels. 

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?” 

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus. 

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus. 

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually. 

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts. 

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job. 

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that.  The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs. 

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.” 

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you. 

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.” 

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?” 

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was. 

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.” 

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?” 

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen. 

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again. 

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.   

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet. 

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening. 

Photos are fine. 

Everyone must be tagged. 

Nothing negative. 

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar. 

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines. 

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?” 

You nod, “y-yeah of course.” 

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over. 

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer. 

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.” 

… 

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more. 

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason. 

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.” 

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something? 

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes. 

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there! 

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.” 

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured. 

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.” 

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not? 

“‘Precious babies?’” 

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.” 

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne. 

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him. 

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan. 

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.” 

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”  

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.” 

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close. 

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.” 

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?” 

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.” 

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?” 

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.” 

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent. 

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…” 

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?” 

So, you do. 

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name. 

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times. 

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos. 

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music. 

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.” 

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care. 

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back. 

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him. 

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him. 

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.” 

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.” 

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you. 

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door. 

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes. 

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.” 

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?” 

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.” 

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top. 

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you. 

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right? 

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center. 

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone. 

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid. 

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.” 

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.” 

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans. 

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No. 

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.”  He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers. 

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?” 

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous. 

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.” 

“V-very.” 

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!” 

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.” 

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.” 

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”  

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” 

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.” 

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft” 

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it. 

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.” 

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?” 

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.” 

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.” 

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?” 

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it. 

“Oh god! Please.” 

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down. 

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.” 

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’ 

“And now… we wait.”

[sneaky-eel]

Desmond, bartender in 2000s-2010s New York would absolutely binge shitty reality tv and adore eavesdropping on patrons when he can't get his drama fix. He's the RPG tavern owner who you ask if he has heard any rumors and his eyes light up because now he can info dump all the shit he hears. This follows him to the past, where now he has to actively seek out this entertainment.

He abuses his enhanced senses to sit on roofs and listen in with a hand to his mouth like, "oh my god. They were roommates." He is both the best informant and the worst because, while he is a master at getting information, the details he focuses on are useless to the Order.

"Yeah so this guy will be here at this time at this place, whatever. But! More importantly this guy has been having an affair with his wife's sister AND her brother and-"

"Please, Desmond, I am begging you just tell me the information for the mission."

--------

In Altair's time, Malik was originally Desmond's go to but after being chased out one to many times for "loitering and disturbing the peace of the bureau" (i.e. Malik's peace) Desmond switches to the Rafiq in Damascus since he "at least appreciates me." Eventually Malik would begrudgingly miss his presents and send a request for him to come back because Desmond is the only one he can rant at about Altair.

Altair does not know what the hell Desmond is talking about half the time, but now he does know the baker has three sons that his wife never knew of and one of the sons has shown up at the baker's home.

He normally will just let Desmond keep talking cause he likes his voice.

---------

In Ezio's time he is best friends with Claudia and her girls love him. He'll drop in and gossip with them about their patrons or even warn them about some of them. "Be careful I heard that he has some craziness going on between the legs." or the girls will ask questions about Ezio.

"I heard he is a beast in bed, is that true?"

"Well you didn't hear it from me, buuuut~"

He is 100% going off of hazy animus memories, but all the courtesans totally think he has either A.) slept with Ezio or B.) is actively sleeping with Ezio

With Claudia he talks about the goings on in Tiber Island and what Ezio is up to. Ezio doesn't know how the hell his sister knows everything he is doing or why he gets a message from her forbidding him from doing something he hasn't even gotten to do yet and Desmond just stands off to the side sweating.

---------

Connor is gonna go gray early with how often Desmond just disappears from the Homestead because he seems hellbent on not staying still as it gets "to boring there". Desmond will normally pop up in the strangest of places. Either Connor will find him, head tilted like a dog as he listens in on a group or Desmond will just hunt Connor down himself. "Heard you were in the area."

At time he loves it because Desmond always has a ready flow of information and he is very good at sowing discontent with it, making for good distractions. On the other hand he can do without the open commentary or rampant attention he gives any interaction Connor has with his father.

"It's so much more interesting when it's not me"

*Connor and Haytham both glare at him*

[junedenim]

when you're so pretty and i'm so shy

when banging into somebody only leads to more banging

warnings: fluffy smut, fingering, eating, and the regular shmegular

word count: 3k

The first time Alex talks to you, he breaks your nose. You had known each other nearly your whole life but you lived on opposite sides of town and ran in different groups. The closest you ever came was when he sat two seats over from you in English and you passed a note to him once. Then, in physical education, during a rousing game of basketball, he crashes into you. You aren't even playing the game. 

You're standing on the sidelines, talking with Gemma, and paying little attention. Lost in gossip and the drama of Gemma's rivalry with Daphne Pritchett when the blur of Alex runs right smack into you. You hear the crack. You reach up and blood is pouring out. Your heart is pounding and your face is red but mostly you're too embarrassed to look up and make eye contact with anyone.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Are you okay? I'm sorry," Alex profoundly says. 

"Yeah," you mutter, even if it isn't true. You look up slowly at him.

"Shit," he whispers.

You panic and grab your nose. You wince in pain. "Is it bad? Am I missing a tooth or something?"

He shakes his head. "You're just...your nose...it's bleeding a little." A lot. There's a puddle on the floor and you can taste it, all metallic in your mouth.

"You broke her fucking nose!" Gemma shouts.

You cringe and curve your shoulders over. "Seriously?"

"I'm sorry." He's all meek and he has his hand on your shoulder trying to soothe. You or him, you aren't sure? "I'll take you to the nurse. Right? You good to stand?"

You nod and gradually stand up with his help. Your teacher hands you a pile of tissues that you hold close to your face groaning in pain. Alex's hand is on your back trying to guide you the best he can.

"I'm sorry. I just...I wasn't looking. I was an idiot and, and—I don't know."

"Not perceiving?"

"Yeah, that." It's brought a smile to his face and that makes you feel better. You don't want him to hurt too. He's always been a sweet guy.

*

"It's broken."

"Fuck," Alex mutters. 

*

In the following days, with a piece of tape secured on the bridge of your nose and a bruise giving you an undereye coating, you catch Alex's eyes on you throughout the day. They're always filled with concern, desperate for forgiveness even though he won't accept it.

"You're fine," you reassure him in the hallway on the way to the cafeteria. "It was an accident. Besides, it's my new excuse to get a nose job."

"At least let me buy you lunch." You nod and walk together for the first time since your bloody walk to the nurse. "Is it healing alright?"

You shrug. "I think so. I can't really tell. Bruises mean healing."

His hands are stuffed in his trouser's pockets. He's slumped over and somber-eyed. "Sorry about all of that."

You laugh at his constant apologies. "It's fine. I swear. I like bruises. That sounds like I'm a freak."

"Kind of."

You gasp and turn to look at him with a cheeky grin and dirty Reeboks, the only personality to his school uniform. "Hey! You're the inflictor. You're in my debt. You're lucky I'm not suing you. I meant it in an I-Got-Into-A-Fight kind of way."

Alex chuckled. "Are you the type to get into a fistfight?"

"I think I'm more likely than you. You couldn't hurt a fly."

"I hurt you."

You toot. "It's fine. You upped my street cred. Anyone who knows what happened feels sympathy for me and for those who don't I can say things like 'Oh, you should see the other guy.'"

"Okay, then should we continue this routine and I break your leg next time?"

"No, I think I'm good on broken bones but maybe you'll allow me a punch at you."

He toys with you, "Threatening violence? I should tell on you."

You tell him through giggles, "I'd kick your ass if you do."

After he pays for your lunch, he walks you to your lunch table like a poor stray dog. You should start calling him Sandy in the vein of Annie's shaggy orphaned dog. "Thanks, Al."

"My pleasure." He gives a crooked smile. "Oh, and don't get a nose job."

Unsure of what he's said, you question, "Huh?"

"Back there you said..." he points his thumb behind him then shrugs. "Anyway, I like your nose."

You furrow your brows. "Thanks?"

He's blushing and it makes your cheeks flush and you feel like he's attacking you with his cuteness. Like he's a cute drug you're overdosing on. You want to crush him up in between your teeth and digest him completely. (Maybe you've taken too many painkillers). 

"You're pretty. That's all."

You smile back at him, overwhelmed by his flirtatious shyness. "Well, thanks." He turns to walk away but you stop him with "Do you want to sit with us?"

"I don't want to intrude and I've got me friends." He points over to a table in the back corner filled with rowdy boys tossing food at one another.

You shake your head. "You owe me."

"So, I'm gonna be in your debt forever."

You think, tapping your finger on your chin. "Hmm, well, at least for the rest of the year."

He chuckles and sits down beside you. You do have lunch together for the rest of the year but by Day 3 your table and his table mesh and suddenly you're intertwined.

*

The swelling is gone in a week, the bruises are gone after two weeks, the fracture healed in four weeks, and Alex and you date after 5 weeks. You think he first kissed you a week after your doctor told you it was healed for fear that his nose would hit yours and somehow dislodge its position again.

He has a guitar in the corner of his room that you tease him into strumming for you. He looks embarrassed the whole time and it makes it even more charming. He tells you his secret ambitions and you encourage the way his mind moves. It's the perfect Hollywood teen romance.

One evening, you fall onto his bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and your mouth opens under his. Your skin sears as you spread your legs wider to make room for his body. You feel mindless. You move against each other a little while making out. Uncertain shifts and searching grinds, friction, fervency. You've never done this before, what you're about to do, unlike him. You like him being more experienced. It makes you feel as if he's your guidepost.

Your kisses are all tongue, broken by moans and desperate gasps. Your nails dig into his back and you try to stifle the sounds forced from your mouth. He turns his focus onto your neck, licking and sucking, bruising you like a peach. "Let it out."

It's erotic and troubling how much you throb. “I—I want—”

“You want what?”

You roll your hips up against him for real, starting to shake when you feel how hard he is beneath his jeans, and his grip tightens on you like that’s too much for him. You do it again, moaning some more but as loud as you want this time, and find a rhythm. “Fuck,” he rasps, “I’m—fuck. Don’t do that, baby.”

He stops you by the hips. You grunt, “Why not?”

"'Cause if you do I’m gonna come in my fucking jeans."

You force yourself to meet his eyes and hold his gaze as you push your skirt down, before grabbing his hands so they’re pulling your panties and tights down together. He finishes the job when they get to your thighs, and you're suddenly aware that you're wearing nothing down there.

His attention drifts low. His expression takes on weight, and he whispers, “God,” almost like a 'Thank you.' It dissipates any insecurity. He spreads your legs a little wider and then trails his hand down from your knee to your center, stopping just an inch and then moving it back down again. He does it a few more times, and it’s torture. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yes,” you manage, throaty and raw. “Please, do it.”

He grins at that and keeps teasing you, but then gets close again, and this time he doesn’t go back down. Instead, he strokes you, just a brush of a thing, not even inside of you and you're still gasping. Fuck, fuck. “Alex," you manage as some strangulated thing.

“I know,” he whispers, keeps stroking, all infuriatingly slow. "You’re so good.”

When he slips a finger in it’s done carefully, but it has you gasping. You're hit with it: you're really doing this right now. You're in his bed and he’s fingering you. The thought alone is enough to make you lose it.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he says.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t. I—more, I want more—”

A second finger and your back arches. It feels like you're on fire when he finds your clit. The first brush has you whimpering, somehow overstimulated with just that ghost of a touch. He makes it worse by pumping his fingers in and out at just the right angle. He keeps stopping too, building pressure, and the third time you grab his hand to make him keep going. His fingers stroke a spot that has you crying out, and so he keeps going right there, and you hold his wrist, gasping and wanting what you can feel building so bad that you nearly scream.

He won’t give it to you, instead leaning down to kiss you again, smiling through it like maybe he’s enjoying the tease. You bite his lower lip in revenge and he laughs. “Feel good?” he asks.

You can only nod. He smooths your hair back and keeps going, keeps doing both; affectionate strokes and intimate ones with intent, the angle precise and the movements deliberate. When you come, his pace quickens a little and that feels so perfect, and your head falls back, and for a second everything just kind of whites out. Your legs shake and his thumb ghosts your temple. You blink and manage to utter, “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoes, head tilted, fond. Alex kisses your cheek once, twice, three times. “You liked it?”

There’s a tiny bit of anxiety in his voice, which is ridiculous. “I loved it,” you correct.

His responding grin is like a spark to kindling. He says, “Me too.” When he sucks his fingers clean you get a burning fire inside you that you've never felt before. Your lips part. 

Your breathing is shaky as you inhale. “Can we…?”

His forehead falls against yours. “I don’t have, uh—”

“Rubbers?” You ask, coming back to yourself a little now. “That’s okay, I do.”

Alex leans back. “Do you, now?”

“Shut up,” you say, face on fire as you sit up. You find your backpack on the floor and part of this feels ridiculous that you're doing this after school before his parents come home but it feels like the most romantic thing you'll ever get the chance to experience. That first love feeling. “Here.”

Alex takes them with a, “Huh,” and an infuriating grin. It falls a little as he looks back up at you, and his eyes are so brown and comforting. “You really want to? You’re sure?”

You nod. “I wanna.”

The fear is just an underscore to the want, which overpowers everything else. You're safe with him and he’s beautiful and you think if you don't sleep with him right now, tonight, you'll explode or something.

Alex kisses your cheek and then rips open the wrapper with his teeth. You sit on the bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. “We don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“No, I know,” you say, your school cardigan falling off your shoulder. You tuck your hair behind your ears, a nervous habit. “I know that I just want it to be...”

“Perfect?”

“Not perfect." You shake your head, “Good? I don’t wanna look back on this and think about how I was cold the whole time, or how I was insecure, or—”

“Don’t be insecure.”

You give him a dry look. “Yeah, okay, I fixed that problem.”

Alex gets you on your back and nuzzles your nose with his. “I’m just saying I think you’re beautiful.”

Your face scrunches up. “Liar.”

His jaw drops with exaggerated affront. “Excuse me?”

“You’re just trying to butter me up.”

He snorts and glances down. “Pretty sure I already did that.”

“Oh my God, you gonna hang that over my head forever,” you say, all laughing as you wriggle underneath him, and you wrestle like kids for a minute, and then you're just kissing. The rest of the world falls away. It’s just you and him in this bed, and the way you fit underneath him, and the sounds you make when he presses into you. 

He pulls your top off and you can barely breathe before you come back together. He wants to see all of you so fucking badly, wants to touch every square inch of your body, wants to find every freckle and map out the distance between them like a cartographer with kisses.

You yank his shirt over his head and then sort of still, running your hands down the length of his abdomen memorizing it like your flashcards. Then you kiss him with complete need. Your arms wind around his neck and he wraps his around your body, hands searching for the clasp of your bra. He undoes it and leans back to pull it off slowly, eyes on you until it’s gone, and then his gaze falls to your chest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, ragged, you're so— there isn’t even a word. Divine is the only thing that comes close to his mind. He starts kissing and doesn’t intend to stop, insatiably craving your taste. He sucks your skin to bruise, on your collarbone and sternum, right above your heart. He can hear it pounding, an erratic busting beat. He brushes his lips over your left nipple, kissing it softly and feeling it perk, hardening in his mouth as he plays his tongue over it. You start to tug on his hair and he's obsessed with the feeling.

“Alex,” you beg, “please, please—”

He’s listening, but he doesn’t respond. Just moves lower and lower still, running his open mouth down your stomach and only stopping when he’s settled between your legs. Alex eats you out slowly, stroking your thighs and squeezing your hips while you moan and whimper and gasp various words of the ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ variety. He decides that he fucking loves this, it’s his favorite thing on the planet maybe, and he can’t help grinning while he does it. 

When he starts to move back up you try to push him down. “No, no, I’m not done—”

Alex laughs. “I know that, knobhead. Just wait." He knows he’s infuriating you but that’s on purpose too. He fucking loves it when you get all wound up like this. He strips and puts the condom on as quickly as he can manage, and you watch all fascinated, cheeks flushed when you catch sight of his dick. You're sort of sitting up now, so he tugs you back down with a murmured, “Come here.”

He slides in and being inside of you feels ritualistic. You're so warm, and you wrap your body around him as you start to move together. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and he cradles you, wants you to feel so safe, and relishes in every sound you make. Alex pulls your leg over his hip for a deeper angle and your head falls back. “Oh, fuck, yes,” you whine.

He stays right there and fucks you so good and so raw he feels sweat start to bead on his back because he’s been waiting for this for so long and if it doesn’t last for at least a few minutes he might as well die. You're so goddamn pretty under him too, with gentle curves and soft skin as you moan. He does too, can’t help it, doesn’t wanna, just wants to feel this and never forget it.

Your back arches when you come. You grasp at the headboard and cry out and so he lets himself too. You pile on top of one another like that heap in which you first spoke. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

You let out a weak noise. Alex turns to you, your faces less than an inch apart. You're all flushed and dazed and he loves it. He bumps his nose against you. “You alright there?”

“Shhh,” you say, with an ineffectual whack to his arm. “I’m...”

He grins. “Me too.”

You nod. You turn onto your side and so he pulls you into him, gathering you up to hold. He pulls the blanket over your bodies as goosebumps rise on your arms. You burrow against him gladly. “Mmm. Warm.”

Alex hums. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” he urges, watching your eyelids flutter shut.

You snort. “So I take it you’re a total girl after sex, huh?”

Alex shrugs. “I was just trying to save you the bladder infection, but I guess I’ll just fuck off.”

That has you scurrying out of his arms with an, “Oh, shit,” and his eyes follow your body shamelessly as you leave him.

*

Later, when you're all dressed and pretending to do homework, you shamelessly ask him, "When can we do that again?"

He looks up all shaggy. He's dressed in his home clothes with a T-shirt and jeans. You're stuck in your school's uniform skirt but with his old sweatshirt overtop, all cutesy in a way that has him biting on the eraser of his pencil. "Oh, no, I've created a sex addict."

You toss your pencil at him, making him chuckle as he catches it. "You seemed to enjoy it just as much as me."

He has a cheeky smirk and looks deeply at you. Then, suddenly, he turns serious, clasping his hands with one another and sitting up straight. "I could pencil you in for Saturday," he says as he flips through his desk calendar.

"Shut up or I'm withholding the goods."

"Exhortation now?"

"I can be one and done. I fear you'd crumble without seeing me naked again. I'm trying to spare pain."

You're so cute it makes everything in him a desperate, clingy spirit and he's not sure how he's going to be able to let you go back home after today. You're so far away, curled up on his bed while he's over at his desk. What is he doing over at his desk?

So, he stands up, walks over, and kisses you.

*

a/n: it's a quick, sweet fic. plenty of other things cooking...thanks!

[pombeom]

deal? | beomgyu fic (nsfw)

nsfw content below! mdni!

this is my first ever smut fic so please don’t judge and let me know if there’s anything that needs improving! i’ve only ever written fluff before so i definitely need some practice but i hope you still to enjoy it!

warnings: dom!gyu x switch?reader, smut, fingering, blowjob, handjob, living room sex, best friends to lovers, teasing, nipple play?, dirty talk?, unprotected sex (DON’T), fluffy ending, (am i forgetting something?)

The spitting of the rain echoed through your apartment. Despite the weather this week consisting of warm, luscious sun, today the skies had different plans for both you and your best friend Beomgyu. You had planned on taking a trip to the beach and invited him over to join you on your endeavours to which Beomgyu was very much happy to tag along. The sudden shift in the weather, however, obstructed your journey and as a result you’re both sitting on the couch of your apartment scrolling through Netflix picking something to watch.

“How have you never watched Gossip Girl! Are you even from this planet?”  

“Just because I have different tastes doesn’t mean I’m an alien,” Beomgyu shrugged, rolling his eyes.  

“No but seriously. You’re missing out big time Beom.”  

“Alright if you say so…If you really love it that much why don’t you put it on?”

“Seriously?? You’re letting me put in a show that I wanna watch…with no form of bribery?”  

“Well I didn’t say that did I. Everything comes with a price angel.” 

“What is it this time?” 

“Be patient. You’ll find out soon enough,” his smirk was enough to tell you that he had something planned. Something so devious that it might end up with you staying home all week from embarrassment. Your mind flashed back to the time he made you flash your tits at one of your elderly neighbours and you could do nothing but just feel the burn on your face and hear his laugh from behind you. The relationship between you and your neighbour was never the same again even after the cookies you baked her as an apology gift. Obviously, you didn’t want to trust him again this time. 

“Just promise me that it won’t involve my poor old neighbour again. I don’t think she could handle seeing my tits again,” you whined hoping that he’d pity you for last time’s ordeal.

“I promise angel. This time it’d be only you and me.” 

And for some reason, you had a feeling that this time wouldn’t be any better than the last. In fact it’d probably be worst… 

You shoved your doubts to the back of your mind and pressed play on the remote, starting Episode 1 of Gossip Girl as agreed upon by the both of you. 

As the episode progressed, you felt Beomgyu shift closer to you. Whilst it was normal for him to be clingy, the aura in the atmosphere was tenser than usual. Even though his eyes were glued on the screen observing the drama unfolding, you could sense that his mind was elsewhere. Every so often you felt a stare lasering the side of your face and your cheeks burnt up as a physical reaction of your nervousness. You felt a sharp tingle land on your bare thigh and instantly you regretted wearing your itty bitty surfer shorts. Soon enough Beomgyu’s entire hand was squeezing your thighs, kneeling them between his slim, long fingers. Your mind ran through thoughts which were criminally outrageous for your liking but you couldn’t help but wonder how his fingers would feel in between your legs, collecting the pool of slick that had now formed. 

And slowly but surely, his hands crept up closer and closer to your heat, barely scratching the fabric of your shorts and with the sudden contact, you let out a suppressed whimper. You finally turn your head to see Beomgyu smirking at your reaction, pride glimmering in his eyes. He continued to press against your pussy from outside your shorts gaining more sounds from you and subconsciously your hips started grinding against his palm. 

“Are you that desperate angel?”

“Beom, please,” you mumble.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you” 

“Please strip me and put those damn fingers in-“ 

Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt your shorts and underwear being ripped off and your pussy trembles in the contact of the cold surrounding air. He rubs your entrance gathering the slick and circles your clit sending sharp shivers up your spine. He picks up the pace and suddenly launches two fingers into your hole, pumping it in and it at the same speed. 

“Beom, pl- please go fast… faster” 

“Aww look at my angel stuttering. Are my fingers really doing that much to you?” 

He quickens his pace going at an absurdly high rate making your collapse under his control. You were a moaning mess and your every cry was music to his ears. Your pussy clenches around his fingers and just as you were about to cum, he removes his fingers crashing you down from your almost high making you cry from pain and the urge for release. 

“You’ll get your chance angel. But now I want you to please me. You think you can do that baby?” 

You nod your head and slip onto the floor of the living room, positioning yourself in between Beomgyu’s legs which were spread wide open. You put down his joggers with his underwear, revealing his thick, hard cock which stand erect. He holds up his hoodie so you can grab onto his dick and you start by rubbing the base of his shaft, slowly making your way up to the pink tip. You bring your mouth closer to his cock and tease it by swirling your tongue around it. Beomgyu, being impatient, grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoves his cock into your throat taking you by surprise. 

“I told you to please me, not tease me angel. Now suck.” 

You follow his order and hollow your mouth feeling his fat cock deep in your throat.  He takes control and fucks your mouth by rapidly pumping his suck into your mouth at a monstrous pace causing a pool of tears to well up in your eyes. 

“You’re taking me so well angel. Can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.” 

Your moans mixed with his grunts and whines echo through the room, replacing the sound of the rain and the TV. You feel his cock twitch and he pulls out taking away his own orgasm. You knew what was coming next and you were ready in every way. He picks you up from the ground and bends your over the arm of the sofa and positions himself behind you. He slaps his dick against your heat causing you to hitch your breath. Beomgyu places the tip in your slit and slams into your core, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. He continued to pound your pussy, not letting you adjust to his girthy size. 

“Beom, it- it’s too big! Slow…slow down!” your words came out slewed. 

“You can take it angel. Take my fat cock in your pretty pussy.”  

He abused your hole repeatedly as his hand clenched around your waist whilst the other made its way under your baggy t-shirt and straight to your naked tits. You knew you should have worn a bra before he arrived. 

He pinched your nipples sending shock waves straight to your brain, numbing every sense in your body apart from his touch, heightening every feeling he causes. Your pussy clenches again around his dick which only encourages him to move even faster.

“You’re clenching so hard right now angel. I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“Ahh!” You screamed pleasure overflowing in your body. “I’m gonna cum too Beom.” 

“Cum with me then angel. On the count of three.” 

“3, 2, —“

Before he could get to 1, both of you crash as Beomgyu rides you through your post-orgasmic release. Your body is shaking under his, while he holds you from collapsing into the wooden floor. 

“Beom- Beomgyu, that was so good.” 

“Yeah? Well you were great angel. Your pussy was made for my dick.” 

Your face turns red upon hearing his dirty compliment but your couldn’t help but agree at how well he fit in you. 

“I have something to tell you,” Beomgyu begins. 

“Go on,” you say now slouching back on the sofa whilst he wraps his arms around you. 

“I’ve liked you for a really long time now and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think of holding you like this. So as a part of our deal, am I allowed to ask you if you would let me be your boyfriend?” 

Your eyes widen at his confession and although you expected it after your little escapade together just moments ago, you felt a sense of shock but you were also pleasantly surprised. 

“Beom, you know that you’re my bestest friend in the world. And if I’m being honest, I’ve never thought of you as more than that,” you pause, gaging his reaction. He’s still maintaining eye contact but the hope in his eyes have disappeared which you chuckle at finding it amusing. 

“I’ve never thought of you as more than a friend. But ever since the moment you stepped in my apartment today, something felt different between us. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it until now but it’s taken me this long to realise the way I really feel about you. I also like you Choi Beomgyu and not just because you’ve given me the best fuck of my life but also because you light up my world. You’re so stupid sometimes because who would ever think of flashing an old lady like that but that’s what I love the most about you. So to answer your question, I would be honoured to have you as my boyfriend, only if you’d let me be your girlfriend.” 

His response came in the form of plunging into your lips, exchanging years worth of feelings and passion. 

He pushes his tongue in and before you have time to react, he picks you up bridal style and carries you over to your bedroom. 

“Beom, what are you doing?” You ask pulling away from the kiss.

“You up for round 2, angel?” 

[hotluncheddie]

stop being a goblin and let me kiss you

part 2

˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚

steve is at the diner with robin and eddie, after another mind numbing shift at the ol’ FV. thankfully, eddie came in a little while before close so the time went a lot quicker. steve might honestly tell him to come in even more because the clock just seems to become his best friend when eddies around; jumping nonsense off of robin, telling steve random shit about himself and laughing at all of steve jokes. (which his jokes deserve, of course, obviously. no matter what robin likes to say, knock knock is a classic set up.)

steve sat across from eddie and ordered his favourite milkshake, making eddie bat his eyelashes and make fun of steve. ‘milkshakes at a diner stevie? all you’re missing is the cheerleader and letterman.’ and steve rolled his eyes, about to let eddie know he still has his letterman and eddie can borrow it anytime. but robin had been sparked into talking about the most recent band drama that happened after the game the other night.

steve cared about the gossip, really he did. but eddie ordered fries and now yeah, sure, normal diner behaviour. however, eddie likes adding salt to his fries, like a lot of it. which means he’s constantly licking his fingers clean, like, thumb in his mouth, sucking. and that image is making a lot of very fun and interesting scenarios pop up in steves head. very fun, very cool scenarios.

so steve is distracted, playing with his whipped cream and cherry, half listening to eddie talk about hash browns but mostly just thinking about fingers, and mouths.

eddie, for some reason steve cannot fucking fathom, likes to pretend he’s not into steve, like they don’t flirt and like he doesn’t know steve is very much into eddie. steve knows what someone looks like when they’re into him and eddie is into steve. eddie just seems to have a mental block because no matter how much steve touches his arm or hair or tells him he has nice eyes, or like, flirts back at eddies initial flirting, eddie just gets bright red and changes the subject. it’s very cute. but dumb, because they could still do all that while also making some of those fun, pretty, fingers near mouths images a reality.

so, offence is the best defence as they say, defence being eddies self built cock block castle. but lucky for eddie steve is feeling pretty chivalrous so he’ll attempt to scale the castle walls again and hope some day soon eddie will just open the fucking door.

steve sticks his cherry in his mouth, pulls out the moves, ties the stem easy as pie and now, cherry on top, the wink.

gotcha. eddie saw the whole thing, beet red, soda up his nose. the moves never fail. steve did not plan for eddie to leave for the bathroom right after (hates to see him go, loves to watch him walk away) and has to deal with robin and her overprotectiveness when it come to eddie. but come on! he obviously liked it!

she knows steve likes eddie and wouldn’t be surprised if eddie talks to robin about steve. he would, if he was eddie. but she still more often than not gives steve a very pointed look if she feels he’s stepped over some invisible line she’s made up, like there some rule to how bisexual he’s allowed to be at certain moments of the day, particularly around eddie munson.

‘stop messing with him!’ she’s hissing but there’s a little smile on her face too.

‘i’m not! i’m just, presenting him with some facts, some info.’ steve rests his chin in his palm and mumbles quietly ‘not my fault he kept sucking on his damn fingers.’ aware that they are very much in public.

‘god, i am so sick of you both. you gotta talk to him steve, or stop, or something because i’m actually about to go back to doing puzzles with my nana on weekends if i have to deal with you two dancing around each other any longer.’

steve pouts ‘i love puzzles, and your nana, you cant go do that without me bob’s, that’s mean.’ robin groans and clunks her head on the table. ‘ughhh you are so weird! it astounds me every day that you used to be popular. people are so dumb.’

steve pats her head smiling. ‘yeah well good aim goes a long way.’ robin groans louder. ‘i’ll talk to him though, sir steven will break through those castle walls one way or another.’

robin lifts her head to squint at him, face of utter distain. ‘love you.’

‘love u too boobie.’

˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚

part 1 (eddie) part 3 (eddie) part 4 (steve) part 5 (eddie) part 6 (steve) part 7 (eddie)

@mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @gregre369

u asked for it :)

[batrachised]

"Well, let us see. What do I like?

I like my own children and all nice, fat, clean babies anywhere. I like all kinds of books if they're well written whether they are religious or philosophical or sentimental or cynical or humorous or exaggerated or indecent. I like writing books myself. I like cats and horses and some dogs. I like curling breakers, woods and mountains and stars and trees and flowers. I like nicely furnished houses. I like good Victrola records and the music of the violin. I like pretty china and glass and old heirloom things. I like a cosy bed and a tight hot water bottle. I like to be kissed by the right kind of a man. I like jewels and pretty clothes. I like doing fancy work and I like cooking and I like eating the nice things other people cook. I like motoring and driving and walking. I like a systematic life with occasional dashings over the traces. I like open fires and moonlit nights. I like nice chatty letters. I like compliments. I like to see a person I dislike snubbed. I like my own looks when my hair is dressed a certain way. I like a snack at bed time. I like going out to dinner. I like helping other people and I like to be very independent of help myself. I like sunsets and pictures and sea bathing. I like keeping a journal. I like reading old letters. I like housecleaning-I do! I like entertaining the race of Joseph. I like day-dreaming. I like going to concerts, good movies and plays. I like-or used to like before I wedded a minister-dancing and playing whist. I like reading the Bible-most of it. (I like the folk-lore of Genesis and the drama of the Exodus and the gorgeous furnishings of the tabernacle and the doings of the kings and the good maledictions of the Psalms and the warm imagery of the Song of Solomon and the cynicism of Ecclesiastes and the worldly wisdom of the Proverbs and the idyll of Ruth and the blazing fire of the prophets and the wonders of Jesus' teaching and the poetry of Revelations.) I like listening to good sermons. I like gardening. I like good spruce gum. I like my husband. I like people to like me. I like a good joke. I like rainy days. I like old homesteads. I like people who agree with me. I like chocolate caramels and Brazil nuts. I like-or liked in pre-prohibition days-Miss Oxtoby's dandelion wine. I like perfumes. I like a little gossip with carefully selected people. I like shopping at Eaton's.

There now, Ruskin, tell me what I am..."

-LM Montgomery, in her journal

[canirove]

My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 3

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"Aww, sweetheart. I'm so glad you were able to come" grandma said, giving me a hug.

"I would not miss grandad's birthday for anything in the world."

"Not like your father" he said, also hugging me. The moment my dad knew I was coming back to London, he suddenly had an important meeting to attend and he couldn't join us all to celebrate. "He is a coward. Not being able to face his own daughter..."

"Let's leave that conversation for another day, shall we?" grandma said. "Today is a day to celebrate that she has a new job. C'mon, tell us everything about this Spanish girl. Is she posh? Where is the kid's dad?"

"Yes, share all the gossip with your grandma" grandad laughed, sitting down on his big chair.

"She isn't posh. Everything Lucy has is because she's worked her ass off to get it. Language, sorry."

"Don't worry, darling. Living in the North does that to you" grandma said, making grandad snort.

"We also swear on this part of the country, you know?" he said.

"Whatever" grandma replied, rolling her eyes. "What about the dad? You didn't mention anything."

"She divorced from her husband last year. Well, they actually are still divorcing, there is nothing official. But they went their separate ways a year ago."

"A divorce lawyer getting divorced. Funny" grandad said.

"Getting a divorce is never funny. Especially when there is a child involved. How is she dealing with it?"

"Julia is ok. Her dad also is a lawyer, so she is used to only seeing him from time to time."

"That is so sad... But what happened? Why did they get a divorce?"

"You are so noisy" grandad chuckled.

"I just want to know who is the woman my granddaughter is working for!"

"And knowing the reason why she got a divorce is important because..."

"Because!" she said. 

"I don't know why she is divorcing from her husband. We don't know each other that well just yet" I shrugged. Which was a lie. Lucy and I had instantly connected and shared all our dramas with each other.

"Anyway, let's talk about more important things" grandad said before grandma could ask anything else. "You are coming to the game tomorrow, aren't you?"

"It is your birthday present, grandad. Of course I am." He's been an Arsenal fan since he was a little kid, and every time my father allowed it, he would take me to one of their games. Tomorrow they are playing against one of the big ones, Manchester City, and he wants me to go with him. I don't follow football that much, but I always enjoy going to the games and spending some time just the two of us.

"Oh, yes. And Robert is taking his grandson with him too. When was the last time you saw Harry?" grandma asked.

Harry... The grandson of my grandad's best friend, the one they've wanted me to marry since we both were kids, and also the one who tried to kiss me the last time we saw each other, getting a punch on the nose as an answer. 

"I can't remember when I last saw him" I lied.

"Well, I'm sure he is looking forward to seeing you" grandma said. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"This can't be your granddaughter!" Robert said when we met outside the Emirates Stadium. "Where did the girl with the pigtails go?"

"Hi" I said. I think I haven't worn pigtails since I was three, but oh well. "Harry."

"Hello" he replied, not meeting my eyes. It looked like what had happened during our last encounter definitely still was in his head. Good. Now he probably knew what happens when someone tells you no and you insist.

"Let's go inside, shall we?" grandad said. "Today is a big day, we'll probably have to wait longer than usual at the queue."

Once inside the stadium, we were seated next to the benches, getting to see the players very close, especially when walking in and out of the tunnel.

"Ah, look at this atmosphere" grandad said. "Those City boys aren't used to something like this back home, are they, Robert?"

"They definitely aren't" he replied, both men starting to laugh.

"But at least they win something" Harry said under his breath. Since he was sitting next to me, I was the only one who heard him. 

"Who do you truly support?" I whispered.

"Chelsea. But don't tell my grandad, it'll break his heart."

"Your secret is safe with me. You know I'm really good at that."

"Yeah..." he replied, his ears turning bright red. 

The first half of the game was just City attacking and Arsenal trying to defend themselves, somehow making it to the half-time with no goals on any side. As the players started walking towards the tunnel, there was one that caught my attention, one that was arguing with another teammate. Before he disappeared, he looked up, our eyes meeting just for a brief moment, and I could swear I had seen him before. But where? On tv? Online? There was something too familiar about him to be just a complete stranger.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry said.

"What?"

"You are completely gone, definitely thinking about something."

"It's just that a City player looked familiar. I guess I've seen him somewhere before."

"Maybe out in Manchester? You live in the same city."

"I don't think these guys and I visit the same places" I chuckled.

"You never know."

"Anyway, I'm going to the bathroom. Grandad, do you want a drink or something?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, darling."

When I made it back, the second half had already started.

"Which player looked familiar?" Harry asked me when I sat down.

"I don't know. A tall one, brown hair. He was arguing with another one that looked tiny next to him.”

"Dias?"

"Uh? Why are you speaking in Spanish?"

"That's his name. Well, his last name. When City came out, he turned around and looked to where we are sitting with a confused look. Maybe he also recognized you."

"Nah, that's impossible. Someone probably insulted him and that's why he looked like that."

I had never met a City player, had I? Someone would have told me, they supposedly are superstars.  

The game obviously ended with City winning but just by one goal, and grandad and Robert seemed to be very proud about it. We were still on our seats, waiting until most people had left the stadium, when I found myself looking again at the player from the first half. He was giving some interviews, and the way he was standing while talking, made him look even more familiar. Who was this stupidly handsome man? Because he was handsome. And hot. Very hot. His t-shirt was sticking to his body, letting you see his very defined abs and pectorals. And his arms... His arms were the size of my head. 

When he finished talking, he smiled at the reporter before saying goodbye, and it clicked. 

"No way" I gasped.

"What?" Harry said next to me. 

"Who is he?" I asked, nodding towards the City player.

"Oh, that's the one I told you was looking this way. Dias."

"But you said that's his last name, right? What's his name?"

"Rúben. Rúben Dias."

Rúben. My Chris Evans. The hot neighbour. It was him. He was a fucking football player. And not any player, no. A Manchester City one. And now he was looking at us, at me, trying to figure out why I also looked familiar. 

"He's looking at us again" Harry said. "Are you sure you don't know each other?"

"We..." But before I was able to say that we didn't, Rúben was smiling and waving at me. And I was waving back, also smiling. But while he gave me a cute smile, I probably was smiling like an idiot or with the ugliest grin.

"You were saying..." 

"I don't know him. I just waved back because..."

"He's hot" Harry said.

"Yes. That's exactly why. Wouldn't you have done the same with a hot girl?"

"Maybe... But are you really sure you don't know each other?"

"I'm really sure, Harry. Stop asking."

"Ok" he said, definitely not believing me.

"Alright kids, ready to leave? I'm starving" grandad said.

"Ready" I replied. Anything to stop Harry from asking more questions, and to stop me from thinking about the fact that Rúben, the neighbour, actually was Rúben Dias, Manchester City player and football star.

[weixuldo]

Allow me// ch 4

Vader x Reader

a/n: Hello hello!! sorry for the wait! I will say that were entering more of the “x reader” content that I know most of you are looking forward to heh, but who doesnt love a good slow burn?? hah ty for reading :)

Your boss is not happy about your absence yesterday

warnings: Cannon typical violence, force choking, real choking (and not in the fun way lol), Death, implied death, cursing, anxiety

_____________________

“You never arrived at your posted station yesterday officer y/n, so where in the galaxy were you?!” your red faced manager shouted at you as he dabbed at the sweat forming above his bushy brow. 

“I was pulled aside to complete-” 

“I don’t give a fuck about who asked for your assistance, you report to me. And unfortunately your task was not completed yesterday so who do you think got chewed out? Me!” he huffed, not allowing you to finish your sentence. This was causing a bit of a scene in the semi-public hallway.  

If he weren't always like this, a passerby might think he was going to go into cardiac arrest. 

“Sir, I am truly sorry, but when Darth Vader himself asks for your assistance, you can't really deny him,” you tried to explain calmly.

The winded man in front of you let out a gargantuan laugh, “You're tellin’ me… Darth Vader? The most revered Sith lord in the galaxy… asked for your help?! Hah! You gotta be outta your mind little girl”.

“It is true sir, I didn’t get a chance to tell you after I finished because It was late and our wing was closed”.

“Oh yea, I'm sure you did get back pretty late” he laughed.

“Pardon?”

“We all hear what the troopers say about you little miss, surprised you didn’t take your knee pads yesterday, well with all that dick you’ve been sucking”

Wow, this puny man was really proud of himself, wasn't he. It was honestly disgusting.

“I do not think that is appropriate workplace behavior, sir” you tried to remain as cordial as possible; with basically the whole executor aiming for the target on your back, you felt like you had to be on your very best behavior all the time. 

“Yea, well in my department, I make the rules and since you carelessly neglected your duties yesterday, I’m giving you the highly acclaimed task of cleaning the restrooms in the communal sector, and once you're done with that I think I’ll give you a task all the way in the bridge” the man smiled a toothy grin before insisting time was “of the essence”.

The cool bathroom floor made you shiver as your knees hit the tile, you went through so much schooling and apprenticeships to do ….this. 

Wonderful.

To make it even better you had to keep the door open because the cleaning chemicals needed to be aired out or else they would be too strong; that gave your whole department the lovely view of your ass bent over the toilets, scrubbing away the grime.

It was humiliating, but what were you going to do? Defy your manager and possibly lose your job? No.

It was bad enough that everyone here seemed to hate you, why would you lose a decent paying job too?

You sighed as you heard some of your co-workers snickering;

“I bet that tile is uncomfortable”

“I wouldn't worry about it, she’s probably used to being on her knees hah!”

Finally, you reached the last stall and you were getting high off of the fumes of the cleaning materials. You felt gross and you were getting a headache, your boss didn’t even give you the health regulated mask to use as you worked with the chemicals. 

You were gathering up the cleaning bottles and rags when you heard the bustling of your office grow silent. That wasn’t normal, usually there were at least a few yappy voices gossiping about some dumb drama within the department. 

You were inclined to peek around the doorway of the bathroom, but you decided not to do anything that could get you yelled at…again.

Suddenly you heard a hushed voice, “He’s coming”.

At that, your senses heightened. Could it be?

Him. 

You had no reason to be excited for his arrival, after all it's not like you were in a fantasy story where he would whisk you away and make you his-

The familiar sound of the steel door sliding to the side filled the bay and in came those heavy boot steps, patterned breathing, and demanding aura. 

Darth Vader was here. 

“My Lord, how may I be of assistance” your boss bowed at the dark figure before him; his face finally cooled down from the bright red it was when he yelled at you earlier.

“I need to speak with one of your mechanics” the Sith spoke, surveying the room. 

“Yes, of course! We can get you someone right awa-’

“You misunderstand, General. I need one specific mechanic” Vader corrected.

“Oh! My apologies, who may you be in search of?” Your boss recovered his mistake, though you could see the redness creeping up the back of his neck again.

“F/N L/N.”

Did you mess up your details yesterday? 

You felt less worried for your safety then you once did because you had shared a few one-on-one moments with the dark lord.

But

His sudden appearance in your wing did confuse you. 

You peeked around the bathroom door’s opening and saw your boss nervously glancing at the bathroom door.

“Ohh, um, of course My lord…. Though might I add, if some repair was done incorrectly I apologize on behalf of the mechanic’s branch… she tends to do faulty work– and we will deal with her accordingl-”

“Quite the contrary, general.”

The-now- red faced man blinked in surprise at the Sith’s words. 

“M-My Lord?” 

He stole another glance back to where you were. 

“What is in the bathroom that is so interesting that you cannot focus on our conversation?” The cloaked figure demanded as he made his way over to where you were. 

Quickly you scurried away from the entrance and went back to cleaning on the other end of the facility; You'd rather not be caught actively eavesdropping.

The Sith stomped into the bathroom with a determination that gave you butterflies. His helmet turned towards you before he commanded you to rise.

Oh… maybe he was frustrated with you.

Your excitement turned into uncertainty as you followed the man out of the restroom.

“Leave the bucket” he added, talking about the pail with all of the cleaning supplies and rags. 

You stepped out of the chemical filled bathroom and inhaled a deep breath of clean air; as you followed the flowing cape of the man in front of you, everyone’s eyes were on you. 

Vader suddenly stopped, causing you to almost run straight into his broad shoulders. 

“Would you care to explain why a mechanic of the empire was wasting time sanitizing the restroom facilities and not a cleaning droid?”

“Well, My Lord, she had not arrived at her posted work station yesterday, so we thought it best to punish her accordingly” Your boss replied with a nervous toothy grin. 

“Who approved that method, General?”

“Well- Umm” the shorter man stammered.

“Because I see no advantages to this situation. More work is delayed and the cleaning is less efficient”

Damn, he really just implied you didn’t know how to clean a toilet.

“Yes, Of course My Lord, My apologies… it will not happen again” Your boss profusely apologized.

“Very well. I am not pleased when workers take their own liberties when abridging protocol on MY ship” The Sith proclaimed irritably. 

The sleazy man cowered and stepped aside, allowing the cloaked Sith passage.

“Y/N, you are to come with me” Vader spoke, without turning to look at you.

Your whole body felt tingly as you walked behind him (and not in the fun tingly way…. More like dread). You weren’t used to him taking a demanding tone with you. 

You followed him out and his squadron followed closely behind you; the hallway was silent except for the shuffle of the trooper’s boots and the man’s breathing. What had you gotten yourself into?

Only around halfway down the hallway the man in front of you suddenly stopped, prompting you to halt abruptly behind him. You were so close that his cape brushed the tip of your nose before you took a few steps back. 

Vader slowly turned his head to the side as if he were sensing something. Was he feeling your fear?

The profile of his mask seemed more and more ominous with every second. 

You were about to ask him what was the matter, but before you could he walked past you back towards where you both just were. 

Were you supposed to follow him? 

He had already entered the room when you caught up with him. You weren't sure what he was doing, but you sure didn’t expect to see him choking your boss in the middle of the room.

The smaller man had no chance as the dark giant held him firmly in his gloved hand. It was almost sad how much your boss was struggling; he kicked his feet and clawed at Vader’s iron fist. 

“Would you care to repeat what you just said, general?” Vader questioned.

All the man could muster was broken chokes and gasps as his face turned bluer by the second.

“First you think you can change protocol and then you have the audacity to insinuate my business with one of your mechanics” he scoffed before dropping the man from his grasp. 

He fell hard with a thud and gasped for air.

Vader straightened his form and took a look around the room at all of the terrified workers.

“Do not be so ignorant as to think I do not hear your childish gossip on my own ship.”

Suddenly you realized what this was all about…

the rumors. 

Of course a mighty sith lord wouldn’t want to be talked about behind their back, especially if people were insinuating they were getting their rocks off, but there was a certain double standard among the men of the galaxy. It was seen as something to be proud of when a man would bed many women or have “sex slaves” (for lack of better terms). 

You really didn’t understand why he was so heated… was it because it was you?

A sudden wave of nausea washed over you; was he only disgusted because they were pairing him with you? Did he think you were that embarrassing to be associated with? 

Vader turned his attention back to the man on the ground.

“Pathetic” he huffed before turning back to the gallery of shocked workers.

“Let him be an example for you all” 

In a swift motion he turned his clench fist and the man’s neck snapped with a sickening crack.

Your eyes widened and you heard others gasp; you had only ever heard of the Sith’s capability, never seen it.

Vader turned on his heel and promptly left the room, strutting down the hall quicker than he was before; you were frozen for a moment, but then you hurried after the Sith. Hopefully what he needed you for would be something less… deadly. 

___________________________

The room was freezing and the fabric of your uniform was not doing much to help with the cold.

After the ordeal at your workplace, Vader brought you to a room that you had not previously seen. In keeping with the rest of the ship, the room was the rich obsidian that you grew accustomed to. There was a large seat in front of the window that beautifully displayed the vast view of space. 

Currently you were seated on a couch that was in front of the chair; much to your surprise it was a pretty comfy one.

None of the troopers entered the room with you and the Sith, so you worried this was it. You were going to die. 

He asked you to take a seat but then disappeared into another connecting room.

In his absence, you recalled all of your interactions with him, trying to figure out what grounds he had to kill you? Nothing you had done was out of line, it was more the mistakes of those around you… but what were you going to do, protest the Sith’s plans? 

You became sad when you reminisced on your feelings for the man… What a fool you were. You really thought that the cold and stoic man liked you. You thought you were connecting with him- and he even allowed you to drop formalities around him-

What went wrong?

You were too naiive, that’s what was wrong. 

Your nerves began to settle a bit when he hadn’t returned, it had been around two hours by now. Whether he wanted to play a cruel waiting game or not was becoming more and more irrelevant to you. 

You were sure your fate was sealed, so what was a few more hours? Plus you had a very emotionally taxing day and your lack of sleep was catching up with you. 

This couch was feeling more and more appealing and your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt, you would just make sure to set an alarm on your watch for you to wake up. 

yeah… just a quick-

***

a/n: alrightyyy thank you for reading and if you guys have any questions about the pacing of this story or enigma, dont hesitate to shoot me an ask! Love you all :)

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Metal type; Eddie Munson x reader

*Author's note*

Well this came at a funny moment, plus after seeing some posts of how Eddie Munson and Patrick Verona from 10 things I hate about you are similar, I figured why not do this fic with a fun little twist at the ending. Unlike my Halloween fic there's not much warnings here but I'll still list them as followed:

Warnings: parental death, grief, drugs (not hardcore just cigarettes and joints mentioned), some angst but ends with fluff at the end.

Enjoy the fic my darlings :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

_________________________________________________________

There’s been a lot of rumors going around lately.  Now me I typically stay out of that gossiping chain because it’s just a bunch of hens clucking up the coop where they don’t need to be sticking their beaks into.  But when the rumor’s involve (Y/n), that starts perking up my ears like a deer.

Now lately my girl’s (well at least in my head she’s my girl, I haven’t gotten the balls to ask her out yet but I have my reasons! Like this for example) been going through a rough patch.  Her mom just passed away from breast cancer and it’s been hard on her not only having to go through the whole funeral process and trying to figure out how to keep the house, and trying to deal with all of that whilst still going to school and trying to finish off senior year.

She shouldn’t need all this stress.  She deserves to have fun her last year of school, not be dealing with house mortgage, trying to sell her mom’s stuff or put it in storage, keep paying off the funeral and hospital bills, Jesus Christ she shouldn’t deal with this.  Now I have tried to at least help her but she’s been pushing me away telling me and the guys that she’s fine and that she doesn’t want to burden us with all this family drama.

Now I may have been young when I lost my mom, but I remember the stress that Wayne felt having to go through mom’s stuff since my old man sure as hell wasn’t going to do any of it.  But that’s not even the worst part of the rumors.

Hawkins is a small town where everyone knows everyone blah blah blah blah, but there is a new face that’s been around Hawkins since the start of the new year.  Some guy from Seattle named Patrick Verona.  Now if I’m honest, he seems like a descent guy.  Good taste in music, pretty metal looking, not into sports or anything like most guys are.  But he’s been hanging around (Y/n) far too much and he doesn’t even go to our school and yet people are saying they’re dating.

Again I’ve tried not to believe the rumors but I have seen how Patrick seems to be there whenever (Y/n) is too depressed to be around anyone else.  Always having an arm around her, allowing her a shoulder to cry on, and even kissing her tears away.  I can do all of that, hell we’ve been friends since middle school! Why can’t she allow me to do any of that stuff for her!? I want to be there for her so why isn’t she letting me help her out!?

It was lunchtime and once again (Y/n) hadn’t shown up for lunch.  I silently munched on my pretzels.

“(Y/n) not joining us again?” I heard Henderson say.

“Nope.” Said Jeff.

“I think I heard she went off with that Patrick guy again. Saw his bike coming up during third block just before the lunch bell rang.” Said Gareth.

“And my best guess is she’s gonna miss Hellfire again.” Whined Wheeler.

“Back off Wheeler!” I snapped throwing a pretzel at his head.  “She has a very good excuse to miss so many meetings. Grief isn’t something that can just be put on hold like a stupid laundry basket game or a dentist appointment.”

“Ow! Jesus…..” Wheeler whined.

“He didn’t mean it Eddie.” Henderson tried to lighten up Wheeler’s insensitive comment.

“Really cause I think he was making a statement on how I should run my club. Am I wrong Wheeler?” I sneered lowly.

“No Eddie I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” Even for his weak-ass apology, I dropped it and went back to my snacked lunch.

“To be fair though Eddie, normally this many missed Hellfire meetings results in automatic banishment from the club. You sure you ain’t just going easy on her because you love her?” Gareth said bluntly.  I smacked him upside the head.

“Continue to say stupid shit like that and I’ll think about the banishment for another member of this group.” I threatened which got him to shut up and look back down at his tray.  When I looked up I soon spotted (Y/n) heading for the back doors.

Quickly I grabbed my lunchbox and chased after her.  I at least wanted to check up on her and see how she’s been doing since last I saw her a week or so ago.

“(N/n) wait! Wait!” I charged out the main doors of the school and she turned to face me.

“Oh Eddie, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry bout that didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” she looked extremely exhausted.  Bags upon bags were under her eyes and the poor thing looked exhausted.  The usual bubbly girl that I loved was nothing more than a shell of her former self.  Hell this girl would even sleep in class, the one thing she’s never done for as long as I’ve known her.

“So—so listen I uhh—I know it’s been hard lately for you. But I-uhh…I was wondering if you’d like to uhh…..have a movie night after Hellfire at my place? I’ll let you pick out any of your favorites, even if it’s that cheesy rom-com shit that I don’t like.”

“Eddie, that’s sweet of you but I—”

“Hey girlie, everything alright here?” that Australian accent (which I think is fake) came up and soon Patrick came up wrapping an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulders and in his other hand a bag of McDonalds, all the while holding a toothpick between his teeth.

“Everything’s fine Patrick.” My jaw ticked as (Y/n) introduced us, “I don’t think you both have been properly introduced. Eddie this is Patrick, Pat this is Eddie Munson.”

“Ohh Eddie? The Eddie Munson? Well nice to meet you mate.” Being the gentleman, we both shook hands and I said trying not to sound condescending.

“You too man. Nice ride.”

“What that old thing? A hand me down by my dad. Trying to save up for a real sweet ride. May even take this little lady for a joy ride. God knows she needs it.” He lightly jostled her which made her smile what almost resembled her real, sunshine smile (the smile that I always got out of her, the smile that rivals all the stars in the sky, the smile that I wish I could make her do again, but they all seem to be reserved for Patrick Verona now).

“So uhh about……” I started back up the conversation between (Y/n) and I but she said.

“Eddie I’m sorry but Patrick and I have some plans tonight. Maybe some other time?”

“Yeah, yeah sure no uhh—no problem. Just figure I’d offer.” I said nonchalantly as I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kicked a couple of pebbles at my feet.

“And Eddie, about Hellfire I……”

“No need. Your temporary leave is still accepted. Just come to me whenever you’re ready to return.”

“Thanks for understanding Eddie.”

“C’mon sugar glider, better get going before someone sees us.” Patrick said as he took them over to his bike.

“See yah around Eddie.” She said to me.

“Yeah, yeah see yah.” She got behind Patrick and wrapped her arms around him as he placed a second helmet on her head before revving his bike and pulled on out of the parking lot driving off down the road. “That manipulative son of a bitch.” I walked back inside and prepared for the remaining day of hell.

The day came and went and I found myself over at Family video just to browse but also to return some of the movies that needed to be returned (they may also have been late I honestly can’t remember).

“And he just waltz up and has her pinned up to his side like an ornament.” I ranted.  “And seriously I cannot take that accent seriously, don’t you think it’s fake?”

“Eddie, you’ve gotta stop obsessing over this Patrick guy, it’s not healthy.” Robin told me. 

“I can’t Robin! The guy’s completely taking advantage of her! I can’t just sit idly by anymore as some metal-head biker punk comes into town, and swoops down at her like a hawk.”

“You know it is kinda scary how he almost resembles you. Same wild hair, same eyes, you sure you don’t gotta brother or something?” Steve asked as he was stacking some videos.

“Not helping here Harrington.” I grumbled.

“Eddie, how do you know this is like a romantic thing? I mean, take me and Steve. We hang out all the time and we’re not together.”

“Oh absolutely not. Yet I’ll always have Robin’s back if she needs it.”

“Strictly platonic. With a capital PLAH. Have you seen them kiss on the lips?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean they probably don’t do it behind closed doors. Plus couples don’t always make lip to lip contact in public.”

“You can kiss platonically too. I see the cheerleaders doing it all the time, course it’s that fake Barbie air-cheek kiss but still they do it. You’re letting your imagination run wild, again.”

“Plus man if you had told her how you felt in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t be happening.” Steve added.

“I told you man, I was going to tell her but then she got the call from the hospital about her mom’s diagnosis. It—didn’t feel right to tell her. She needed her best friend, not a confession to think over while her mom’s dealing with sudden stage 4 breast cancer.”

“I agree with him on that Steve.” Robin said.

“Okay, okay but still you just…..gotta relax, okay? Look maybe he’ll move on after a while and forget about (Y/n).”

“It’s impossible to forget about her, that girl can make anyone fall in love with her.” I grumbled.  The bell rang and speak of the devil himself, Patrick came strolling in and he said.

“I’m told this is where you can get some good films.”

“Yeah, yeah what can we help you with?” Steve spoke up.

“Something upbeat and funny. Sugar glider needs it for tonight.” Sugar glider? Wait that’s what he had called (Y/n) yesterday, she isn’t…..after rejecting our daily movie night she goes off and has a movie night with this asshole? I swear if he weren’t so relatable, I’d beat his ass right now.

“Okay well comedies are just over there man.”

“Thanks mate, say you two wouldn’t happen to be Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley would you?”

“We are, how do you know our names?” Robin said.

“(Y/n) has told me a lot about you two. Especially how you two have been helping her out with sorting through her mum’s belongings. My thanks to you both.” So she goes off and tells this guy about all of us but she doesn’t say a word about you?

“Yeah, yeah it was no problem. She’s helped us out so it was only fitting we’d help her out.” Robin said as she was stacking some tapes along the shelf.  As Patrick picked out some of (Y/n)’s favorite comedies like Beverly Hills Cop, Ferris Buller’s Day off, Back to the Future, and the Princess Bride. As Robin rang them up for him, he turned to me and asked, “Now (Y/n) told me you’re the one to go to with some good deals on weed. You got anything in stock?”

Weed? Doesn’t he know that (Y/n) hates the smell of weed? Hell the girl’s allergic to cigarette smoke! Which is why I always make it appoint to never, ever under any circumstances wear the same clothes I smoke in around her let alone smoke around her.  Hell I’ll have the trailer burning multiple scented candles just to rid of the smell, yeah it gives me and Wayne headaches but it’s worth it so that she’s comfortable.

“What’s the occasion?” I demanded.

“Nothing special, just need a refill. Ran out of my own stuff and of course (Y/n) don’t have anything.” Jesus this guy is really gonna smoke around her?

“Regretfully I’m out of stock at the moment.”

“Damn, oh well. Gas station always has some smokes.” Jesus this guy is a grade A asshole.  And not in the popular jock standard, I mean just straight up insensitive asshole.  “Later.” He then walked out after paying for the videos.

“You see what I mean?!” I snapped lowly.

“The guy’s just asking for some smokes Eddie. You do it all the time.” Said Steve.

“Yeah but not around (Y/n)! Jesus I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you guys.” I rubbed my face into my hands in annoyance.

“Eddie, why don’t you just go home? Relax, have a drink, and just get your mind off of Patrick and (Y/n). I’m telling you you’re getting too involved in this and your imagination is running away with you.” Suggested Robin.  I stuffed my hand into the twizzlers jar taking a handful of them, bit into one and stormed out of the store.

As I lay across my bed twirling a twizzler in my hand I couldn’t help but think about (Y/n) and Patrick.  The more I thought about them together, the more my blood boiled and my other hand kept fidgeting with my rings.

“Screw it!” I sneered lowly before getting up, grabbing my keys and racing off toward her house.  I parked a bit off from her house and slowly walked up towards her hedges and hid behind them.  I slowly peeked over her window and saw (Y/n) sitting on the couch talking on the phone with someone while her TV was paused on Beverly Hills Cop.

Patrick soon came in with two beers and plopped down right next to her.  He set the beers down and had an arm wrapped around her and he looked at her concerningly.  His ringed hand stroking the top of her shoulder.  She then hung the phone up and I saw her lower her face into her hands in defeat.  Patrick stroked his hand through her hair and the two of them briefly exchanged words.

I then watched as (Y/n) got up from the couch but Patrick suddenly grabbed her by her waist and pulled her over his lap and he gave her a peck to her forehead.  She gave him a gently slap to the chest before he allowed her to get up off his lap.  But again, just as she walked two steps, he sat up, grabbed her by the waist again and pulled her back across his lap and pecked her twice this time on both her cheeks.  She shoved at his face playfully and told him something that I couldn’t understand but he allowed her to get up a third time.

As she got up, he then grabbed her and they playfully went down to the ground as he wrestled on top of her tickling her, I could hear the faint sounds of her laughter coming out from the window.

So it is true, she really did find someone better than me.  Well if that’s her decision then—I can’t stop her.  But this guy should at least have the decency in knowing of what she likes.  I walked over to the door and knocked on it rapidly.  I heard the laughter stop and footsteps coming to the door and opening it was (Y/n)m her hair a bit disheveled from their wrestling I had just seen.

“Eddie, what are you—”

“I need to talk to Patrick.”

“Uhh okay.” I didn’t wait for her to open the door as I just stormed in.  When I saw him getting up from the floor, he looked up at me and said.

“Well this is a surprise. Did you end up finding some smokes left over?” that smug-eating grin came across his face.

“Even if I did have any smokes or left over joints, I would tell you one thing. Don’t you ever smoke it around (Y/n), okay? She can’t stand the smell of it, not to mention she’s allergic to cigarette smoke. And that’s no joke, okay? Her breathing becomes so tight she can barely breathe, it’s like she’s going into anaphylactic shock if she even smells a whiff of it. So if you’re gonna date her, don’t you ever do that in front of her.”

“What?” he said confused with a head tilt.

“No, no you pay attention because you don’t know just how lucky you are man!” I snapped.  I jostled his shoulders and emphasized each point I made with a firm poke to his chest.  “You better treat this lady like a Queen, okay? Because if I had someone like (Y/n) (L/n) I would bring her her favorite flowers every chance I got. And they aren’t roses because she says roses are too cliché, you understand? Her favorite flowers are blue orchids, you got that blue orchids. Because they bring out her bright, beautiful eyes. And when she’s sick, she gets chicken ramen just like how her mom used to make for her with a side of saltine crackers. I would be her shoulder to cry on and her best friend. And I would spend every second of every day trying to get her to smile because she—she has the most beautiful smile that I’ve missed so much. And that I would do anything to see that smile again.”

I turned to look at (Y/n) who was staring at me with this wide-eyed look of awe.  Even though my heart was aching at the fact I had now spilled my feelings for her even though she’d never be mine, I—I had to at least let her know that I’ll always be there for her.

“But she chose you. So……you better do just that. And much more to make her happy, especially now. Because that’s what I would do.” I released Patrick’s shoulders and went to walk out the door but (Y/n) quickly got to the door before me and shut it, staring up at me with soft but sad eyes.

We both stared at each other until she slowly walked towards me.  I looked down shamefully but I soon felt her take my face in between her hands and her lips soon met mine.  Her arms slid around my neck and I wrapped mine around her waist bringing her closer to me as I kissed her back.

“See what’d I tell yah? He’s your penguin.” Patrick’s voice said.  We separated and saw he was leaning up against the wall, toothpick in mouth with a wide grin.

“What?”

“Eddie, I’d like for you to formally meet Patrick Verona. My cousin.” She told me.  I looked to Patrick in shock who grinned at us again and gave me a two-finger salute.

“Your—your cousin……”

“Well when we call each other cousins its more loosely. I treat my little sugar glider like she’s my little sister.” Patrick told me. 

“He’s been a real familial support system that I haven’t been getting with the rest of the family ever since mom got sick. After the funeral he just—showed up and he’s been staying here ever since helping me out with all this stuff.”

“Aunt (M/n) was the glue that kept the family together and ever since her death, the family’s been divided and (Y/n) has been stuck in the middle while still trying to finish school. I couldn’t let her go through all that drama and stress alone. One of us has to at least be successful, right sis?” He gave her a wink which made (Y/n) shake her head.

“They were right, I’m a complete dumbass.” I muttered.

“Look mate, any man whose willing to allow me to take this girl as my own, is a real man in my books. Even though if we did hook up we’d have some ugly-ass kids.” The three of us softly laughed.  Patrick came up to me and placed a strong hand to my shoulder softly jostling it around, “You know, I haven’t heard my little sugar glider talk about a boy the way she talks about you Eddie Munson. Now I see that you are truly something special to my little cousin.” I turned over to (Y/n) and said.

“More than anything in this whole world.” (Y/n) softly smiled as she placed her hand over her heart.

“Then you have my permission to date her, but just know this. If you ever break her heart or mistreat her,” the sound of a switchblade came out and I froze as the gleam of the blade came below my chin.

“Patrick!” (Y/n) exclaimed. As quick as he had brought it out, he sheathed it back and put it back into his pocket.

“Just for a word of warning.” He gave me a hard pat on the back and walked out ruffling (Y/n) hair before saying.  “Be back in a few hours, don’t have too much fun you two lovebirds.” Patrick then left the house leaving the two of us alone.

“I am so sorry about that, I swear that man acts like the fucking Joker sometimes.”

“He’s more metal than I ever could be.” (Y/n) came up and wrapped her arms around me.

“I think you are just the right amount of metal for me Eddie.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.” We both smiled and kissed each other again when a bang at the window spooked us apart and there stood Patrick giving us a warning glare (well mainly at me).  (Y/n) flipped him off and tossed a pillow at the window.  He stuck his tongue mockingly before disappearing from the window.

So the rest of the night was spent cuddling up on the couch watching her favorite movies until we both ended up falling asleep together.  By morning I noticed a blanket had been put around us both and I knew I wasn’t the one to have done it and neither had (Y/n).  There I saw a note on the table and it read:

Take care of my little sugar glider. And if you’re ever interested in some embarrassing stories she hasn’t told you from when we were kids, meet me for some smokes later this evening at the Hideout.

Patrick

I smiled and looked down at my best girl and kissed the top of her head.  At least we both had something in common besides physical appearances and our outlook on the world, we both care deeply for this girl that’s in my arms and want nothing but the best for her as she tries to move on from her grief.

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 3

Author's Note: I know this is only my first series, but I'm having soooo much fun with it. This section offers some more background on Y/N's past with the team. If you love lore, this is for you!

Content: When the team gets a lead from the local department's tech analyst, they're forced to look into a questionable detective with a long history of complaints against him. Before they can talk to him, they've got to get him to the precinct, triggering some hard memories from the past as old fears reemerge.

Warnings: Mentions of harassment/sexism in the workplace, brief mentions of Cat Adams and Scratch, mentions of past trauma, established relationship... I think that's pretty much it!

After the detective stormed out of the precinct, the team slowly shuffled out of the conference room into the main bullpen. The young tech worker, evidently named Richie, bent over his shattered monitor. “My poor screen,” he mumbled, bending down to pick up a shard of glass on the floor. 

“Richie,” I said, “I’m Agent L/N with the BAU. I’d like to know what all that was about.” I feigned ignorance. I wanted to hear it from Richie’s perspective, and I didn’t want him to know Whittenden had already discussed the matter with Spencer and I. 

Richie sighed, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You see, when I get files from my bosses, I don’t read them, let alone open them. I just sent them on to whatever department they’re meant for.” I nodded in response, and Richie continued. “The detective thinks I messed with his files, but I didn’t! I swear! I have no reason to…” Richie trailed off, getting distracted by his broken monitor littered over the office carpet. “I can’t believe he did that.” 

“Do you know anyone who would have a reason to alter Whittendon’s files?” Emily asked, making her way to the front of the group standing in the conference room doorway. 

Richie shook his head. “Look, I’m just the tech guy. I send emails and fix computers. I don’t get involved in all the office drama and crime stuff.” Emily and I made brief eye contact. How can you avoid the “crime stuff” while working in a police department?

“Anyway, I have a hell of a mess to clean up now… If you’ll excuse me…” Richie bent down to the floor, picking up shards of shattered monitor and trying to find any missing pieces that had gone askew on the floor. I sighed at the next dead lead. I made my way back to the team, and just as I started to rejoin the team in the conference room, Richie’s voice came from behind me. “Agent L/N?”

“Yeah, Richie?” I asked, turning around to face him. 

“You didn’t hear this from me, but I know Detective Andrews has been after Whittenson’s job for months,” Richie shifted nervously on his feet, looking around the office with paranoia evident in his eyes. 

I narrowed my eyes, and nodded. “Thank you, Richie. We’ll look into that.” So much for never partaking in water-cooler gossip. The young man nodded, continuing to pick up pieces of the monitor scattered on the floor.  

I rejoined the team in the conference room, shutting the door behind me once again. “Did you guys hear that?” I asked. 

“I did,” said Emily, “I’m getting Garcia on the phone right now.” Clicking her contact and turning her phone on speaker, Emily set her phone in the middle of the table. After two rings, a bubbly voice came over the other line. 

“Hello, my pretties. How is Denver?” Penelope said. I could almost hear the smile on her lips, and I felt a small smile cross my own face. 

“It’s okay, Garcia. We need your help,” Emily answered. 

There was a moment of silence as I heard Garcia click around on her computer before she spoke again, “I am at your service, my fine-feathered FBI friends. Tell me what you need to do.”

Emily spoke again, “We need details on a Detective Andrews at the Denver Police Department, preferably anything to do with a recent promotion that he may have missed out on.” I heard Penelope clicking away on her computer. 

“Uh-huh… anything else?” Penelope asked. 

“Not for now. Have you found anything off the bat?” Emily questioned. She crossed her arms in front of her, staring intently at the cell phone. Spencer sat at the head of the table, leg tapping in anticipation. 

“Sending it to your tablets now,” Penelope said. We all heard our tablets buzz from their respective positions on the conference room’s large table. Reaching forward, I opened the file Penelope had sent. A headline caught my attention first: “Detective Ryan Whittendon named Head Homicide Detective for Denver P.D.” I scanned the article quickly, looking for anything about Detective Andrews, when a line of text caught my eye: 

“The decision for who would take over as Head Detective was a struggle. The Department was forced to choose between Whittendon, who has served with the Department for 3 years, and Jason Andrews, who has been with the Department for nearly 15 years. The Department made its decision based on success rates of case-closed and input from other office employees.”

“Yikes,” I heard Spencer mumble. He set his tablet down, scanning the faces of our other team members. 

“No kidding,” said Rossi, “working here for 15 years and getting passed over for the newbie… I bet that didn’t go over well.”

“So what does this mean?” Luke asked, “Is this guy our unsub?” 

“I don’t know about that,” I piped up. “With over fifteen years in law enforcement, becoming a serial killer would require a major personality change.” Matt and Spencer nodded in agreement. 

I saw Rossi shrug. “You’d be surprised what people would do when they feel unappreciated. They feel unseen, and they lash out in any way they can to be seen,” he said. 

“Regardless,” Emily stepped in, “we need to meet with Jason Andrews immediately. Garcia, do you have his home address available?”

“Sending it to you now,” Penelope said again. “Be safe, my friends.” With that, Penelope’s end of the line went dead. Our tablets buzzed once again, this time with Andrews’ address. 

“Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this.” Emily paced around the room, formulating a plan. “Luke and Matt, you’re going to go pick up Jason Andrews. Bring him here and get him situated in an interview room. Spencer and Y/N, I want you to follow behind them as a back up team in case things get ugly when they try to bring Andrews in.” “You’ve got it, boss,” Luke said. He rose to his feet, as Matt followed suit. The two of them headed out the conference room door and exited the precinct. Spencer backed his seat away from the table, standing up and heading for the conference room door. 

“Y/N,” he said, “are you coming?” I stared straight ahead of me, not quite making out what he said. I had an uneasy feeling growing in my stomach. I was never one to be overly superstitious, but I did believe in my instinct, and I was almost never wrong. 

“I don’t know about this, Emily,” I said. She furrowed her brow, looking at me with concern. I was never one to question her decisions or turn down the chance to chase after a bad guy. 

“What’s wrong, L/N?” she asked, coming to rest a hand on my shoulder. 

“I just… I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling.” I felt Emily’s eyes rake over me before she looked at Spencer. The two made eye contact before they both looked back at me. “Y/N,” Spencer said again, leaning down so that we were eye level. “Nothing bad is going to happen. We’re just going to pick this guy up and bring him back here so we can talk to him.” The logical part of my brain knew he was right. The guy was a current police detective, surely there was no danger in that. 

“I- I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t know what’s come over me.” I stood from my seat. “Excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom before we go.” I exited the conference room without waiting for either of them to reply, brushing past Spencer and making quick work of the long hallway to the bathroom. I slipped in the door, and found myself staring deep into my own eyes. The reflection in the mirror seemed so foreign, so distant. 

I took deep breaths, collecting myself and drying my eyes with a paper towel before tears started to drip out of my eyes. After a couple more seconds of solitude, I left the bathroom, walking slowly back towards the conference room. The door was still cracked open, and I could hear muffled voices inside.

“I’m just worried about her. You know she isn’t fully over everything that happened, Spencer,” Emily’s voice spoke in a hushed volume. I creased my brow. Were they talking about me?

I heard Spencer sigh, followed by a long silence before he replied. “The whole thing messed us all up pretty bad. She’s better, just like we’re all doing better,” he said. The whole thing… Cat… Scratch… part of my life that felt like a pure hell. 

Emily spoke again, interrupting my thoughts, “I know, Spencer. You went through a lot, I went through a lot, but you have to acknowledge that she went through her own unique trauma as well.” You mean being psychologically tortured by a maniac before going through the physical trauma of a life-altering car accident? What’s unique about that?

“She’d only been a team member for six months when the two of you started dating. She’d only been here for a year when Cat forced her into that interrogation room and made her endure the whole night with you. Within hours of that, she was in that awful car crash with the rest of us…” Silence took over once more. “All I’m saying is, I know it’s been a few months since then, but those invisible wounds don’t heal in a few months. You should know that better than anyone.”

A long pause filled the room. I held my breath and kept silent outside the door, waiting for what would be spoken next. “Look,” Spencer broke the silence, “I know what she went through was horrendous and unfair. I think about it every day-” I heard his voice break a bit, bringing tears to my eyes once again. I heard him draw in a shaky breath before continuing, “But she is strong, and sidelining her is not going to make it any better. That’s what I do know.” 

I decided it was time to stop eavesdropping and to stop letting other people decide my fate. I stepped forward, pushing open the door. I took in Spencer’s glassy eyes, and Emily’s grip on the back of a conference room chair before he spoke. “Y/N, how long have you been out there?” he asked. 

“Long enough,” I gave a shy smile, a result of my embarrassment for having admitted to the eavesdropping. “Look guys,” I said, swapping my gaze back and forth between the two of them, “none of this is ever going to be easy for me. This past year has been a lot, but I’m moving forward. We all are, like Spencer said.” 

Emily let out an audible breath. “What I’m saying,” I started again, “is that Spencer is right. Sidelining me isn’t going to help me get any better. I know I have my weak moments, but I always come back. I just did, you see.” I gestured to the bathroom before gesturing to the conference room, “I always come back.” 

Spencer moved over to my side of the table. He reached out his hand, taking mine and offering a gentle squeeze as his show of support. “Now,” he said, “are we ready to go?” He asked it so quietly, as if he was afraid any force in his voice would break me to pieces. “I’m ready,” I said quietly, “it’s going to be fine.” 

“It’s going to be fine,” he echoed. I held his hand all the way out of the precinct to where Matt and Luke sat in their running SUV. 

“Where have you two lovebirds been?” Matt asked from the driver’s seat after rolling down his window.

“I had to use the bathroom, my bad!” I shouted back while jogging over to the passenger side of the second SUV. Spencer climbed in the driver’s seat while I slid into the passenger seat. Buckling our seatbelts, Spencer gave Matt a thumbs-up. Matt drove off, and we followed close behind. 

The ride was quiet for the first minute or so, but I could see Spencer shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “What’s wrong, Spence?” I asked, examining the way his hands fidgeted on the wheel.

He sighed. “I’m sorry if anything I said to Emily upset you,” he said apologetically. “I know we don’t like to talk about the things that happened. I just didn’t want her to bring it up in front of you and make you feel-”

You held a hand up, stopping him from saying more. “You’re right, Spencer. We don’t like to talk about it. Maybe someday we will, but for now, let’s just keep doing what we’re doing.” You offered him a small smile, a way of letting him know that you were okay. He didn’t say anything else, he just nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. You could tell that something else was bothering him, but you decided not to push the subject more. One of these days we’ll get there. 

The next ten minutes passed quickly as you pulled on to a quiet suburban street, Matt and Luke in the lead. Your pager buzzed and Matt’s voice echoed throughout the SUV. “Matt to Y/N, do you copy?”

“Copy, we’ve got you,” I replied. Matt and Luke brought the car to a stop in front of Andrews’ house. Spencer and I stayed parked a few houses back, watching to see if any back up would be needed. Luke jumped out of the car first, cautiously approaching the front step of the large brick house. They had no reason to believe Andrews was a real threat, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Matt followed a few steps behind, quickly hopping up the porch’s front steps, keeping a hand on his holstered weapon. It was nearing six in the morning as Luke knocked on the door, “Jason Andrews, FBI!”

Spencer and I watched in anticipation as to what would happen next. I froze as Luke knocked again. I listened over my radio as Luke’s voice rang out again, “Jason Andrews, we need to talk to you!” Suddenly, the front door swung open. A forty-something year old man in a robe stepped out on the front step with a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Who the hell are you, and why are you on my porch at six in the morning?” Andrews asked, voice low and eyebrows raised in confusion. “My wife and kid are upstairs, keep it down.” I saw Matt and Luke’s shoulders release their tension. 

“We need you to come with us to the precinct to talk. It’s urgent.” Matt said. 

“That’s fine, just let me get dressed first,” Andrews turned back into the house as Luke and Matt waited on the porch. I let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank God,” I said. That wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. 

Spencer let out a quiet chuckle as Andrews stepped back out onto the porch in a full suit, climbing in the SUV with Matt and Luke. “See,” he said, “I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about this time.” 

This time… The words echoed in my mind, sending the same sickening feeling to my stomach. I didn’t respond as Spencer pulled away from the curb, following Matt and Luke back to the precinct

*  *  *

We returned to the local police department, where Luke and Matt left Andrews in an interrogation room before coming to join the rest of the team. We all sat in the conference room once again, blinds shut and door locked, contemplating our next move. 

“Okay,” Emily said, “I need your thoughts here, team. Who's going to interview him?” We all exchanged glances. 

Matt cleared his throat, “Seeing as how he did pretty well with Luke and I picking him up, I just figured we’d be on it.” Luke shrugged in response, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I originally thought that, too,” Emily said, standing up from her spot at the table and reaching for a file she’d discarded on a shelf nearby. “That was until I read Andrews’ file.” I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily. Reading someone’s file was a dangerous game to play, you never knew what you might find. 

“I wondered why Andrews didn’t win the popularity contest that went into becoming Head Homicide Detective,” Emily explained, as she flipped through pages, “but then I read this.” She sat a piece of paper in front of JJ, who began to read out loud. 

“Complaints of harassment against women: twenty-seven,” JJ cringed. “Good lord, how does this guy still work here?”

“So, Andrews is a raging sexist,” Luke said. 

Emily nodded. “Exactly, which is why we need a woman in the interrogation room.” JJ and I exchanged looks, as if to say ‘not it.’ “It will throw him off his game. He won’t be able to focus on lying if he’s focused on being a-”

“A douchebag?” Rossi finished for her. Emily nodded quickly. “Well,” Rossi started again, “who's it going to be?”

Matt chimed in again, “Why not send Y/N in? She’s quite a bit younger, I bet he’ll notice that too.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I often forgot about my age in relation to this group. Sure, I was only twenty-five and Matt had a point, but that didn’t make me love the idea any more. 

Spencer noticed my discomfort, “Why Y/N? JJ is more than capable.” I felt JJ’s eyes on me, as well as Rossi’s and Emily’s. I did not want to let anyone down, especially after the conversation I’d overheard between Spencer and Emily earlier in the morning. 

“No, Spence,” I said, rising from my seat and moving behind his chair. “I’m okay with it. I’ll go in with Luke, we can handle it together.” I tried to reassure him by placing my hands on his shoulders, but Spencer did not seem to relax under my touch. 

“Great,” Emily said, “I’m glad to hear it.” She handed Luke the file on Andrews to flip through before turning to me. “Don’t let him get the better of you. He’s going to be a jerk and I want you play along with him. Each time you do, you’ll be loosening his lips even more.”

She gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded, understanding what she wanted from me. Besides, I’ve been locked in interrogation rooms with worse people before.

To be continued!

[psychedelic-ink]

kinktober '22 ║ V

pairing: modern!ezra x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.5k

summary: you've been friends with ezra for a while now. after talking on the phone and making plans to meet up tomorrow, ezra thinks he hung up. you can't help but listen in as he gives a woman you don't know the time of her life. 

warnings: i guess this is technically phone sex??, masturbation (reader), dirty talking, unnamed ofc that ezra hooks up with

taglist form

“So tomorrow then?” you ask again, wanting to be sure. 

An exasperated sigh comes from the other line, you can almost see Ezra pinching the bridge of his nose with frustration. 

“Yes, birdie. Tomorrow 7 PM sharp, we won’t miss the movie don’t worry,” 

“Good,” you hum, nibbling the tip of your thumb. “I’m really curious about Don’t Worry Darling, like so much drama circulated it, now I need to know if it was worth all the gossip,” 

A breathy chuckle follows, you smile at the soothing sound. 

“I feel like we shouldn’t be enabling those people,” he muses. “But whatever you want. I don’t really care,” 

“You’re the best,” 

“I am,” you hear him grinning but before you can say anything else you hear the familiar melody of the doorbell you so frequently used from his side. “I need to go now. See you tomorrow darlin’” 

“Date?” you hate that you have the need to pry, as if it's any of your business. 

“I wouldn’t really call it a date. More of a “two people needing to release some tension” sort of thing,” 

“Gross,” 

He buzzes the person in as his laugh echoes in your ear. 

“Which one is gross? The hooking up without attachments part or just the image of me fucking?” 

A shudder ghosts across our skin. Why did he have to be so vulgar about it? Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a stuttered breath. The image of him fucking wasn’t actually the issue, you imagined it quite a bit. When you talk with him, you don’t really think much before you answer, which is nice but also can cause you to get unbelievably flustered. 

“I don’t know, both?” 

You’re an idiot. 

He scoffs, “Maybe if you got laid you wouldn’t be so tense all the time, just sayin’– Anyway, I think she’s almost here, need to hang up birdie, love you,” 

“Love you too,” 

The line goes dead. However, you still hold the phone up to your ear, refusing to believe he was actually gone. Your stomach churns as you head to the bedroom, thinking of what kind of woman he’s with. Ezra is the type of friend that would dote on you, he didn’t mind giving you lovey-dovey nicknames, showing pda or telling you he loved you. But it was all just affection between friends…from his part at least. For you, well, it’s an entirely different story. Basically, you have a crush on your best friend. The biggest cliche in the book. 

You fall to the bed, letting the softness sooth your burning skin. Your eyes flutter closed. Maybe you should take a quick nap to forget that your best friend is currently fucking the brains out of some woman– 

The phone rings. 

Your eyes go wide. 

Panic swirling in your chest, you grab the phone and check the caller ID. It’s Ezra. Licking your dried lips, you answer the phone. 

“You like it when I grab your tits like this, honey?” 

“God yes. Play with my nipples too, please sir–” 

“Well when you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” 

A moan follows, then another one and another. Ezra chuckles, you hear the smack of his lips. He must have kissed her. 

Shit. Shitshitshit. 

He miscalled you, it must’ve happened when he threw the phone on the bed or something. It doesn’t sound like those two had the patience to at least ask how their day had been like. You stare at the ceiling, frozen as modulated moans and groans echoes in your ear. You should hang up. You really should. 

But… 

Maybe you should listen a little bit more? Just to get a bit of a taste of what it would be like to date Ezra. It’s wrong. It’s so obviously wrong, however, you can’t seem to stop. 

“You’re so wet,” Ezra groans, the sound of squelching reaching your ear. “Fuck baby. Want me to finger you? Suck on your tits as I make you cum,” 

“Yes,” 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” 

He’s into that, huh? 

Licking your lips, you feel your own arousal spreading between your legs. You hear him sucking, what you assume, the woman’s nipple and she moans, begging for his cock. Your pupils dilated, you can’t help but wonder how big his cock is. 

“Hmm be good,” he rasps. “Or else you ain’t getting my fingers either,” 

The woman whimpers, a sound of another kiss following. Your hand slides down your body, gently cupping your breasts before heading further down, fingers sneaking under the waistband of your sweatpants. You drag your finger between your folds, a burst of desire blossoming across your skin. You’re careful not to make any noise just so they don’t hear you from the other line. 

For a while there’s no dialogue. Only slurping, sucking and the sound of Ezra thrusting his fingers into this woman. You draw quick, short circles around your clit, heartbeat ringing in your ears. Every moment or so you can hear Ezra’s groans, which send an immediate spike of pleasure up your body. 

“Please sir,” she finally speaks. “Let me have your cock,” 

“Beg for it,” 

The pleads come all the way to the tip of your tongue. Thankfully you manage to stop yourself at the very last second, biting your cheek. The woman speaks and voices out your deepest desires. 

“Let me have your big fat cock,” she moans. “I need it so bad. Need you to fill me up so bad– It’s been suck a long week– Please– Need you to fuck me stupid, sir,” 

“Alright then,” you can vividly see the smug expression through his voice. “I’ll give you what you want but I need you to take all of it okay sweetheart? It’s been a hard week for me too,” 

You vaguely remember Ezra having an issue at work, but as you fingers move around your aching clit, the thoughts are shoved to the back of your mind. You grind your hips up into your hand with the thought of his cock, you imagine him stretching you wide, stopping after every inch so you can relax around him. A whimper escapes your lips and you quickly bite down onto your bottom lip. Frantically you put them on speakerphone, cupping your breast as the movement of your fingers grows sloppy. 

If the wanton moan the woman made is anything to go by, Ezra must be fucking her. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in your room, your eyes roll back, heat building between your legs. 

You’re close. The sensation of your impending orgasm licking your salty skin and warming up your muscles. The echo of their lust filled voices fall into the background as you begin to focus on yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek, the coil tightening and tightening until it finally snaps. 

You suck your lips between your teeth while trying to silence yourself, upper body jerking up, you finally come undone. You continue to move your fingers, skin tingling as you coax another small orgasm from yourself. You breathe heavily from your nose, chest heaving, you pull your fingers out of your sweatpants, the sound of the couple audible once more. 

“Where should I cum?” Ezra grunts, his voice laced with lust. 

“Come on my stomach,” the woman moans, you imagine her back arching much similar to yours. 

“Fuck– Okay– Touch yourself, want you to cum around me first,” 

She moans at his words, and the sounds she makes only becomes louder. 

The woman cums with a cry, repeating Ezra’s name again and again, abandoning the nickname “sir” in a heartbeat. He mutters a “good girl” right before letting out a moan of his own, a slick sound echoes from the phone, another spike of arousal makes your pussy clench. He’s stroking himself. Fuck. You would pay good money to see that. 

You can’t tell when he cums but you assume that he does when their conversation shifts into a more casual one. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, your heart stops at the question, curiosity clawing the inside of your stomach. “Maybe we can meet up again, I can show you more of my moves,” 

Ezra chuckles at that, “I bet you have many,” he hums, grinning no doubt. “But I can’t tomorrow. Gonna go to the movies with a friend,” 

“Alright, next week then?”

“That sounds good,” 

There’s a moment of silence, it’s quickly followed by a series of bare footsteps. You hear Ezra sigh and reach out for the phone– 

Panic swirling in your veins, you hang up before he can see that you’re on the other line. You’re sweating, heart thrumming loudly in your chest. Laying down, you once again stare at the ceiling, feeling completely lost until your phone vibrates with a text. 

I guess you’re not appalled by the image of me fucking then birdie ;)

Another text quickly follows. Your mouth is dry.

Good to know

You feel as if someone poured boiling water over your head. He knows. He probably knew from the very start.

Tomorrow is going to be awkward as hell. 

kinktober tags: @tusk89 , @amneris21 , @witchisenpai , @pedrito-friskito , @tom-whore-dleston , @lola766 , @batdarkladyvampir , @dindjarinswhore , @dnxgma , @eyelessfaces , @queenofthefaceless , @softtdaisy , @saintlike78 , @timpletance , @xdaddysprincessxx , @stardust-galaxies , @spacecowboyhotch

[aerialsquid]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 18: Hackneyed

Skip your meeting in Labyrinthos today. Make sure you're at the afternoon proposal introduction. You don't want to miss this.

It was Montichaigne. It was absolutely Montichaigne.f Only Montichaigne would send a note by mammet that was so urgent yet so vague, then sit back to watch the dramatics roll in. With a resigned groan, Fourchenault delegated the project inspection to his PA, then turned around to head back up to the lift.

It was such a coward's move, too. Fourchenault was only one of 100. What possible legislation could be so terrible to present in front of him personally and specifically?

"In the name of Thaliak and in sight of the Sharleyan Forum, we present legislation to extend offer of a forum position to Kuwagata Ryuo, known also as the Warrior of Light, based on his extensive achievements and skills."

Ah.

Fourchenault's fellow member had a long argument afterwards, pale as he was, constantly avoiding looking in Fourchenault's direction. Fourchenault could only hear the pounding of the blood in his ears and and his inner demon's near-irresistible urging that he throw his folio at Montichaigne's grinning face. That man needed a better bloody hobby than watching other people's drama.

"This concludes arguments in favor, will we now hear arguments against?"

All 99 other members of the Sharleyan forum, every clerks, a few stray attending polisci students, and even the damned administrative mammets turned in Fourchenault's direction.

Fourchenault let out a long, deep sigh before rising to his feet. 

"I see that everyone has already assumed my position. Let me speak to the dhalmel in the room, since apparently Sharleyan's most prestigious institution has now turned into a schoolboy's gossip circle - yes, I will be speaking against the proposition. No, it is not because Master Ryuo is romantically involved with my ex-wife and I am a bitter divorced hag. It is because it is, for everyone involved, an extremely poor idea."

Perhaps it was his time with Kuwagata which had made him more blunt. Perhaps he'd just run out of fucks to give. He could hear a few shocked gasps from the gallery below.

"I'm sure the illustrious forum member who brought forth this proposal had only the star's best interests at heart when he did it."

He absolutely did not. He saw a well meaning but dense old man with a good reputation that he could leverage on behalf of your political gains. You could tell him anything and he'd nod along, unaware of the consequences. He's been a puppet of politics before, for good and for ill. How dare you try to make him one again, after all he has done.

"But my colleague has a memory that is too short and a gaze that is too narrow. I speak against this not because Master Ryuo is not good enough for a forum posting, but because he is too good for it. Recall that in our time of need, what the Warrior of Light brought to us was not careful planning, was not intellectual rigor - Sharleyan overflows with these things. What he brought was the strength of the alliances he'd built across the star, alliances he could not have built if he were merely the Forum's representative."

This was clearly not the response people had expected. Whatever they'd prepared to defend Kuwagata's reputation wouldn't work on someone who was outcompeting them in praising him. 

"Indeed, it is the Sharleyan way to seek out resources and catalog them, analyze them, take them for ourselves that we may understand and control them - but to do that for the Warrior of Light would be to shackle his power. We are just beginning to open up our society to a world we have rejected for generations in the name of our sacred mission, and you would seek to put a banner of nationality on the one man who finds allies in every city on the star? What cruelty, for a man who has given us so much."

Fourchenault went on for a bit, because this was the Forum and you had to. If anyone (Montichaigne) asked why he had so much ready praise for Kuwagata without needing formal preparation he'd dunk their head in a mop bucket.

"From our research into the World Unsundered, we know the Ancient Convocation held a position known as "Azem", the Traveler. Much as the god Oschon left his fellows to walk the roads of the world below, so would the Azem walk the star and understand its people. The Azem was not held to the behest of the Convocation, but would return and communicate what they had learned so that those who spent their days cloistered in the halls of government might understand the world beyond their walls. If the Ancients whose wisdom let them command the very laws of nature itself knew the value of such a position, can Sharleyan not share that wisdom? Let him be not an ambassador of Sharleyan to the world, but an ambassador of the world to Sharleyan. Let him bring the wisdom of his travels to us and educate us not in facts and figures, but in the dreams and fears of those he meets. And let us not shackle the strength of his arms in Forum robes, for we all know there will be yet another crisis that calls for his blade."

In retrospect he really shouldn't have ended on the image of Kuwagata shackled and in Forum robes, because now he was going to have to sit with that image the rest of the day, but what was done was done. 

(What was also done was finding out someone had passed a transcript of his speech to Ameliance, who had then done some discreet commissioning, and then finding out that Kuwagata looked deeply impressive in a Forum member's uniform. But that was a problem for later Fourchenault.)

[dangermousie]

Welcome to the Circle of Love ep 1, better titled as Warlord Amnesia BDSM aka thank you for the present, youku!

Youku once again proves that its short dramas are where it’s at. I will be very sad once the censors inevitably wake up to the craziness going on in short dramas but until that day, welcome to Republican warlords the way they should be done - violent and sex having! Ep 1 packs a lot in its short 11 minute runtime. And not an innocent ingenue or wholesome male lead in sight!

We open on a woman in a bridal outfit who is having a very hot wedding night but not the way she imagined.

Our poor heroine has just seen her whole family, including dad, massacred and flambeed. 

I especially appreciate the shot of the pocket watch she drops because nobody will convince me it’s not a little nod to Too Late to Say I Love You, the last time a proper length cdrama had an appropriately unhinged and murderous warlord ML.

Anyway, two years later, meet our scrumptious ML aka Warlord McWhorington. He is known for three things (a) murdering heroine’s family aka richest family in wherever and thus earning bigwig’s approbation (b) sleeping his way to the top by banging bigwig’s daughter (no, the gossipers make it explicit he earned his rank in bed. They are wrong, it’s clearly bed and murder) and (c ) being a violent sexy headcase.

He is there to chill with his girlfriend/sugar mama (who is rocking the possessive unhinged secondary girl vibe like a 2002 kdrama secondary girl, I am all for it!) but his attention is drawn by a pretty, masked singer. By his girlfriend’s reaction, not the first time either. Do they have oats in China? Because that man is clearly sowing his.

Anyway, everyone dances and the singer deliberately swaps partners to dance with sexy warlord. His gun IS big and very hard after all.

Bwahaha secondary girl, same!

Masked dancer lady makes small chitchat like asking him if he prefers to bury his enemies’ bodies whole or chopped into pieces and what he likes to do with his women. “If she is an enemy, make her submit” replies the hero in case we didn’t get before what kind of kink we are catering to here!

Then he gropes her in public! But it’s OK, everything nothing pervy, because he’s just disarming her from the gun and knife she somehow hid under her slinky clothes. Ooooh boy, pls censors, don’t come for short dramas for years, I need my unwholesome fun. 

There is clearly no covid social distancing in the 1930s.

It’s OK, she steals the gun back and prepares to end him with the cliche but pithy “go to hell.”

Unfortunately for her but fortunately for this not becoming the world’s shortest drama, he’s removed the bullets. Oops.

“Chivalry is dead,” quoth the warlord as he knocks her out.

The mask is removed and shocker!!! It’s the wedding dress lady from the opening/the surviving daughter of family warlord offed. How he could not tell it was her with the few little beads covering her face is beyond me. I know he’s around weapons a lot but gun noises damage hearing not eyesight.

We go back to the opening scene or shortly after, during which we see her confront him after the flaming hot wedding night and he informs her that yes he offed her fam but fair is fair, his fam murdered 10 people in his, made his father starve to death and made him watch his mother be raped and then commit suicide. I’d say “otherwise known as Thursday in cdramaland,” but let’s face it, this hasn’t been a thing in proper length cdramas in a decade and I feel like someone who’s been seeking the grail of dogblood melo for so long and finally found a whole store’s worth of said grails.

I used you to get close to your family explains the hero, and poor heroine, born too early for Goodbye My Princess to exist, is stunned. 

She attempts to murder him (as one does), misses him and falls into the water and as she’s getting soaked and rinsed, we get a flashback in a flashback (flashback squared?) to their happy times.

Now we are back in the present and she wakes up chained in his room. There are worse fates tbh.

And then, in a twist that surprises utterly nobody, she goes “who are you?” because the Lord is kind and good to me and has time-traveled this drama to 2005 and we have AMNESIA!!!!!

Anyway, ep ends and I am hooked hooked hooked! This is like someone putting every Fei Wo Si Cun novel into a blender, and I cannot resist. Take a bit of Goodbye My Princess, stir in a large portion of Too Late to Say I Love You and some Siege in Fog; from previews later even a touch of Sealed with a Kiss. And we are ready!

I approve of all these people being dark and unhinged and murderhappy and not wholesome role models proper dramas keep giving us. I approve of the hero looking hot AND like he eats. I approve of the heroine being all about slaughter. Etc. 

This is not as cracktastic as Maid’s Revenge - after all ML’s clothes stayed completely on the whole ep, and not as good as A Familiar Stranger or as atmospheric as Provoke but it further cements my feeling that short dramas are where it’s at for me.

PS ML of Too Late to Say I Love You says hi!

[barlowstreet]

I am so fucking proud of you! May I ask how your group project ended up going?

Thank you!!!

Honestly yeah I have tea, let's spill.

Under a cut for long math drama because WOW that a whole thing

Alright, so for anyone who missed it, the group project assignment was fairly simple. It was literally just pick an article about mathematical modeling (he suggested using covid 19 as a topic), read it, present our findings to our class. Four people in my group, 10 minute long at most presentation, could have all probably be done in 30 minutes, right? We started this March 20th and it was due April 10th, today.

I picked the article, sent it to my group partners, they were like "yeah sure that works". I set up a word document through office 365 which we all have access to through our school that we could all just put our notes in and I put my part in March 20th. And then I took a whole bunch of cold medication because that was when I was sick.

Then no one did anything. I emailed them again reminding them, hey, we do gotta do this April 5th. The one girl did hers that day. The guy in my group did his April 7th. I also made a powerpoint at that point because I was like "I am not just talking to the camera here, I need a prop". (I get camera shy and do a lot better if I have props.)

The other girl in my group? The last email I got from her was never. She never replied to a single one of my emails. We talked in class once in a breakout room, where I said "I will email you all, I have no voice and am very sick and it's probably easier to just use email" and she was like, "Yeah, sounds good." So to be clear, she knew I was going to email her.

I get to class today and the guy in my group is not there. Okay, sure, fine, one of us can read his part. GirlA messages me in the zoom chat and is like "did GirlB ever send you anything?" and I have to be like, "No. I have a slide with just her name on it, do we want to just be petty and pause on it for a moment when we get there?" and she was like "Yeah tbh she didn't reply to any of our emails and do any work, what else do we do".

(Meanwhile we were talking about grades and GirlB asks the instructor why he never gave her a time slot to do one of our quizzes. It was a take home quiz. He said that SEVERAL times in class but I suspect she isn't actually there a decent amount, she just opens the zoom link and does other things. But our classes are recorded. Watch the recording at least?)

And then GirlB messages me. At 7:25pm. And says, "I sent you my notes."

My class, I will tell anyone who doesn't know, is 6:30pm to 9:30pm. We were in class. Other people were presenting, and I'm frantically adding things to the powerpoint presentation that I made. AND she somehow didn't actually change the online version of the powerpoint (because I enabled editing for that too) so she had to send it to me.

And she sent it as a PDF.

Anyways, me and GirlA sounded like we knew what we were talking about. I fake being good at speaking well and she made a good joke that made her seem a little more relaxed. I will say that the other girl did send me a couple of diagrams which made things look nice, but she really struggled with presenting it and sounded very awkward.

Oh and the guy showed up literally in the middle of our presentation, which, you know, I'll take since I didn't have to present his part.

We sorta could tell that GirlB handed in a bunch of assignments technically late and her grade was probably Not Good so honestly the fact that we all got 100% on the presentation probably did her a lot of good.

And I swear to god, most of it is because people are impressed by powerpoint. GirlA, when we were gossiping, she thanked me for doing "all that work" on the powerpoint when, like, it took me 10 minutes because I downloaded a vaguely math-y looking powerpoint theme XD So, life lesson, a good looking powerpoint presentation will take you a long way.

[saturdaynightghostclub]

Highway Hypnosis

Chapter 7: Meadow Report

I miss gossip. I miss rushing home from the library at the drop of a hat because Nora, my roommate, had “major dirt” on a classmate that couldn’t wait until I was done studying. Those text messages (or, better yet, phone calls)—the “Come home right now” followed by the “You won’t believe what I heard in the diner today”—summoned me quicker than any house fire ever could. It’s horrible, but it doesn’t feel that way when it’s happening. It feels like an accomplishment, like you’re receiving high-priority intelligence. Young people are wasted in retail and food service; we could really be put to use as spies, I think. It’s an inherent sneakiness that’s kind of thrilling, an unspoken code of conduct that we adhere to without being told: information is to be exchanged only in person, unless it’s an objective and irrefutable fact, in which case you may send it in a text message (but why would you, when it’s so much fun to see the look on your friends’ faces when you spill all the latest drama?). “Tell no one” means “Tell everyone, just don’t let them trace it back to me,” and “You can’t know this” means “No really, tell no one.” I want to exercise my knowledge of this code, to be once again on the receiving end of “You won’t believe this,” but it appears that the only good source of gossip around here is me.

I’ve just about given up on my dreams of scandalous water cooler conversation—having three friends, two of them men, will do that to a girl—when it becomes clear that, unbeknownst to me, I have created the biggest scandal in Evergreen since the death of my uncle. It runs in the family, I guess. The scandal in question? It pertains to Jasper Stevens, because lately I’m nothing without his lanky shadow following me around.

“Tell me everything,” Janie says immediately after clocking in, practically skidding around the corner with a crate of whole coffee beans in tow. She knows something I don’t.

I raise an eyebrow, nearly letting Joshy’s coffee cup overflow as I refill it from the pitcher. “Everything about what?”

Janie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be like that, Andie!”

I turn to Joshy, who’s sitting at the bar. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

He nods, amused. “Moss,” he offers, though I can tell by his sage manner that I won’t be getting any more information from him.

“Oh, Jasper? What about him?”

Janie’s exaggerated groan tells me that she’s at least as starved for good gossip as I am, but I’m no less lost for it. She sets her crate down on the bar before turning to me and, in a voice like a kindergarten teacher’s, says: “Moss was in here the other day. You two left together. Tell me everything.”

“Moss never hangs out in town,” Joshy adds helpfully, “he’s like a cryptid.”

I nod. I think I get it now. And really, who am I to deny a fellow woman the joy of being entirely too invested in someone else’s business? It’s one of life’s purest joys. I assume the position: the one everyone knows, that invites others into your confidence. Elbows on the counter, leaning forward—come closer, I’ll tell you a secret. Janie follows suit, standing beside me with her ear trained toward me. Even Joshy leans in, eager to hear what I have to say. “Well,” I begin, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

“I knew it,” Janie hisses, slapping the counter.

“At first it was just coincidental, you know? But he started coming over once a week to change out his books and then—I don’t know, we’ve been hanging out. Am I crazy?”

Janie says “No” at the same time that Joshy says “Yes,” and I groan in protest. The couple stares at each other for a few moments, engaged in a silent stalemate. Without breaking eye contact, Joshy raises his hand. “Joshua,” I acknowledge.

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing,” he says, turning his gaze on me, “this is a really small town, Andie. You need to be completely sure before you make a move. Really weigh those pros and cons.”

“Oh my god, is that what you did before we started dating? You made a pros and cons list?” Janie says, whacking Joshy’s arm. “You know what?” She asks, as he dodges another blow, “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”

I put my head down on my arms and take a deep breath before coming back up. “Janie?”

“I think you have to go for it,” she says, “partly because I’m curious—I mean, being in a relationship with Moss, what would that even look like?—but mostly because I want you to be happy, and I think he could be the person to make that happen.”

“You think?”

“I think. Moss isn’t one of those guys you just casually hang out with, you know? He’s an acquired taste. You must get each other though,” she says thoughtfully, “anyway, you lured him into a public cafe, so that’s got to count for something.”

“What do you guys even talk about?” Joshy pipes up, “I mean, I love the guy, but he’s not a real conversationalist, you know what I mean?”

This gives me pause. What do we talk about? We talk about everything, so entirely that it feels like nothing. Like water flowing over rocks, or silk sliding across your skin. It’s unimpeded, uninterrupted even in our moments of silence. One long, continuous conversation. “Everything,” I say, “honestly, if I didn’t know he had a reputation I’d just think he was a run-of-the-mill introvert.”

“So weird,” Janie murmurs, “I mean, you know we all love him, he’s family. But like, the type of family who writes you a letter every five years from a different country, you know?”

“Yeah,” I sigh absently. I want to tell them about that night at the cabin, where he clasped my head to his chest and let his warm cologne breathe life back into my body. I want to tell them about the river, where his hand on my knee sealed my fate as his devoted acolyte. Hell, I want to tell them about how he exchanged War and Peace, unfinished, for The Hobbit because it’s summer and he “should be having fun.” But something about those stories feels too personal to share, like they’re just for us. Eyes on us would ruin the illusion, if that’s all it is.

“For what it’s worth,” Joshy says, “I haven’t seen him so…I don’t know, outgoing? Not for a good couple of years, at least.”

Janie nods, looking like she’s deep in thought. “Yeah. Yeah, come to think of it, he has been more talkative. He gave me a recipe for risotto the other day because he noticed I was buying rice.”

Risotto. Would you look at that. I rake a hand through my hair, wrenching my gaze from my companions as the front window is suddenly assaulted by a barrage of gigantic rain drops. Jesus, it’s like the sky’s got something to prove. I lament a moment for my sundress, which is sure to become a liability on my walk home assuming the storm doesn’t let up in the next ten minutes.

“You wanna head out?” Janie asks, seeing straight through me. “Go ahead, it’ll be dead until the rain stops.”

“Mmkay,” I reply, untying my apron, “call me if you need me.” It’s a formality. She won’t call.

The walk home is, as expected, a balmy torrent of rain that weighs on my dress and clings to my skin. I reflexively fold my arms around my body, but give up consciously after reminding myself that there’s no point. The rain is so all-encompassing it may as well be the air itself I’m passing through, soaking me to the bone. I’m inclined to shiver despite its slimy warmth, and I pick up the pace as I approach the cabin (the cabin which is still a The, caught in the limbo between a His and a My).

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Soaked and saturated, on your front porch steps. Jasper Stevens rises to stand as I approach, unfolding his limbs and stretching like a cat. He passes through the downpour without so much as a blink.

“What are you doing here?” I call, jogging to meet him so we don’t have to yell above the rain. He’s got this look, like he’s faced some kind of ancient evil and accepted his fate.

“Last time it rained like this you had a panic attack,” he says. The rain’s numbed me to everything but his fingertips against the line of my cheekbone. He’s searching me for god knows what—labored breathing, signs of fatigue, I don’t know. It’s mortifying, and I would shrink from him if it didn’t mean he’d stop touching me.

“That wasn’t a panic attack, and it wasn’t because of the rain,” I say casually, taking a small step into his personal space. Janie’s words are circling me like vultures. She’s the devil on my shoulder, convincing me from afar that this man is the solution to my past, present, and future problems. As if sensing my line of thought, he freezes. His breath hitches in his throat for half a second before he continues as if nothing happened. “Why are you really here?”

“Andie…” he says softly, his voice melodic. Sweet and low, like dark brandy.

“Jasper,” I reply. Kiss me, damn it. I can’t be the first one to fold, I’m not the space alien here. Eyes. Lips. Eyes. Kiss me, Jasper Stevens.

I don’t notice the glide of his fingers across my skin until his thumb is brushing my lower lip. “I can’t…” he trails off. I’m about to roll my eyes or finish his sentence or both when he picks it back up: “I can’t be casual about this. If we do this, I mean.”

“What makes you think I want to be casual with you?” I ask. One of us is the Earth right now, pulling the other one in by some invisible gravitational force. I can’t tell if it’s me or him. What makes this man think that I, all of four inches from his face, want anything but his entire self? Here, moments from changing the very fabric of our relationship, I am more certain than ever that I want to immerse myself in him fully. I want us to change each other, I want to change us, I want us to remain exactly as we are. He looks entirely overwhelmed, and I want him to know that it’s really so simple. All he has to do is lean in, and it’ll all be crystal clear.

Jasper’s lips are soft, slightly parted as they brush across mine. A plea for entry, an experimental knock before turning the key he’s always held. I slide a hand over the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair where the rain has curled it away from his skin. My other hand tangles with his somewhere to my right before eventually settling on his chest. His breath catches again, as if I’ve somehow caught him off-guard, and then he’s pulled me in by the waist and he’s kissing me—really—and it’s all I can do not to collapse into him. I can only hope that his thoughts are as blissfully simple as mine are in this moment: this is right this is right this is right.

[juliettevanderbilt]

📱 - for juliette x jesse

What was my muses 5 last sent texts yours?

[Juliette to Jesse] I miss you, I am sorry. We should try to talk.

[Juliette to Jesse] I know that isn't a good enough apology but I suck at this. You know sorry isn't my strong suit.

[Juliette to Jesse] The silent treatment isn't mature you know, I know I was the worst friend but I want to make it up to you.

[Juliette to Jesse] I just couldn't do anything last year all the drama was much and I felt like if I was around anyone I would have just let myself get dragged back into it all.

[Juliette to Jesse] I love you, I will stop spamming you but I am not giving up. You are my best friend even if you are pissed at me

What was my muses 5 last unsent texts yours?

[Juliette to Jesse] I need to tell you about William, I think I am making a very bad fun mistake.

[Juliette to Jesse] What is going on with you?

[Juliette to Jesse] I suck I know it.

[Juliette to Jesse] Gossip girl is pissing me off.

[Juliette to Jesse] I miss you.

What was my muses last snapchat/photo to yours?

What my muse saved your number as?

Bestie 💖

What contact photo my muse has set for yours?

What ringtone my muse has set for yours?

Wannabe by the Spice Girls

How many times my muse has called your this week?

0

How many calls has my muse missed from yours?

0

@walker-on-sunshine