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corrodedcoffins-blog · 6 months

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The First Meeting

main masterlist

spencer reid x famous!reader Universe

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: stalking, murder, character asking to die (if I missed something please let me know)

Today was supposed to be an easy day for the BAU. It was a paperwork day, no case, no one dying on their watch.

These were some of Spencer's favourite days, don’t get him wrong he loves being in the field and profiling killers, and when they arrest an unsub, that’s the best feeling.

But having days every now and again where they don’t have to travel and Spencer can read and reflect on their previous case, he greatly enjoys it. And he can’t say he’s the only one, but he can say he’s the only one that uses paperwork days to do paperwork.

Penelope walks in the glass doors humming a tune, foreign to Spencer.

“You got that James Dean day dream, hmm hm mhmmm, I got that red lip classic”

“What’s got you so happy, babygirl?” Derek says, from across Spencer.

“Um, because The Met Gala is tonight! Biggest night in Fashion! And no case means I can watch it.”

“Oh, I must have forgot to put it on my calendar.” Derek, sarcastically remarks while getting up and out of his chair on his way to refill his coffee cup. All the while JJ comes rushing the bullpen, giving the rest of her co-workers a sympathetic face.

“Just when I thought, we would have an easy day.” Emily mumbles getting out her desk chair and walking away with JJ.

“Wally Melman, a music producer in New York, was killed two weeks ago, and Natali Ryan , a singer and songwriter, was killed 4 days ago also in New York.” JJ says while the screen behind her shows pictures of the crime scene.

“The police said they found pictures with the victim's face with ‘You’re Next’ written in red marker across their face. Suspected to have gotten in the mail.”

“And why have they called us now?” Derek says, clearing knowing there was more JJ was going to say but wanting her to get to it quicker.

“Yesturday, another singer/songwriter, by the name of Y/n L/n-”

“Oh. My God!” Penny interrupts JJ, having come in to tell the team an update she had gotten from the NYPD. “uh- sorry, I’m sorry.. Um, the NYPD wants a couple of us to go straight to the crime scene once we land, and that the next vic- uh Y/n L/n I suppose- is at the station waiting.” Penny says, turning and leaving after finishing her sentence.

“Okay everyone, wheels up in 30. JJ can fill us in on the jet.”

When the team arrived in New York, Hotch sent Rossi and Emily to the recent crime scene, and JJ to talk to the media, while himself, Spencer, and Derek went to the station.

When the three got to the station they were shown the note Y/n had gotten from the unsub, different to the others, hers having ‘You Owe Me’ written across her face instead. The team walked into the room they were told Y/n would be in.

Spencer knew she would be pretty, everyone in Hollywood was gorgeous that’s how it worked, but this girl was easily the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon, even with her bleached hair that he could assume was a split second decision.

She sat on a chair next to one of the officers' desks, as if she was like everyone else and not a world-wide popstar. Y/n and her manager Joe look up, hearing footsteps walk into the room. She stood up to shake Hotch’s hand.

“Hi, I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you and thank you so much.” “Of course”

She goes to shake Derek hand, saying a greeting similar to the one she gave Hotch, then she comes face to face with Spencer, or possibly- not definitely the most beautiful man she has ever seen, sticking out her hand she says, “Hi, nice to meet you..”

“Dr. Spencer Reid- or just Spencer, you don’t have to call me doctor.” “Nice to meet you Spencer.” Y/n stays looking at Spencer maybe a second longer than she should have. It’s just so hard to look away from a man that beautiful. When Y/n does finally look away, she takes a seat and they begin their questioning.

“How well do you know Natalie Ryan?”

“Uh, we talked when we were at the same events and were always friendly, but we weren’t friends.”

“How about Wally Melman?”

“What?”

“Wally Melman, he was a producer who was killed a couple months ago.” Spencer jumps in, making Y/n turn to address him, while she asks her next statement .

“The paper said that it was a robbery.” “The paper was wrong.” Derek responded quickly.

“Did you know him?” Hotch asks, wanting to get back to the questions he has for Y/n.

“I wanted to work with him on my last album, but he started working with..” Y/n cut herself off.

“Who?” Spencer asks concernedly, seeing the scared look on Y/n's face.

“Natalie Ryan, and they beat Y/n for song of the year” Joe says while Y/n is setting her face to rest in her hands, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Do you ever have the feeling that someone is following you, or watching you?” Derek asks.

“Only every second I spend outside my house. I have fans, and paparazzi following me everywhere. It’s part of the job.”

“Do you ever get repetitive phone calls, hang ups, or gifts sent anonymously?” Spencer asks.

“I receive flowers, Lilies, my favourite. The seventh of each month they get sent to each of my homes, they just show up on the doorstep. Never a note, nothing.”

After a few more of their questions it just becomes too much, knowing that these people are being killed because of her or ‘for’ her and Y/n gets up and leaves the room. Not being able to actually leave given the cameras outside, she doesn’t get too far. And Spencer is right behind her.

“Y/n wait!”

“Can you explain what the hell is going on?”

“Well, it’s still rather speculative, but it appears there’s a delusional assassin who’s killing people to help further your career. It probably started as a stalker. An erotomaniac stalker. There’s a psychopathology of the evolution of these types of stalkers and the fact that he’s contacting you indicates that he believes you owe him something. This model frequently concludes itself with one of two possibilities, either the stalker will kill himself or he’ll kill the object of his affection.”

If Spencer wasn’t talking about the possibility of Y/n’s untimely death, she would have had more time to find Spencer’s rambling and seemingly never ending knowledge hot.

Y/n had gotten home from her time at the station, hoping to be able to relax as she has the Met tomorrow night. But when she had gotten to her front door the yellow notepad paper taped onto it caught her eye.

After reading the note she called the station immediately. The BAU had arrived looking over the note, Y/n was in the room but not listening, she onlys snaps back into listening to the conversations when she hears Spencer.

“In English?” one of the officers asks.

“That is English actually.” Y/n smiles at that, while Spencer continues, getting cut off by Derek not too far into his explanation. Y/n finally speaks up, after the team starts talking about how she should continue, as if she isn’t there.

“I’m standing right here guys..”

“If we did remove you from the street, you couldn’t stay here, we would have to take you to an undisclosed location.”

“I have a fitting here in 30 mins, and the Met tonight, then I’m all yours. Look, I don't want to be afraid of this lunatic.”

"We can clear all but essential personnel, and up your security.”

“Derek and Spencer will stay here with you.”

“Okay.”

The team getting Y/n ready for the Met have set up, Y/n just finished getting hair and makeup done in just her underwear and a robe. Spencer walks up to Y/n while she’s opening a greenhouse ginger shot to drink.

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive earlier.” Spencer says, referring to when he followed her outside of the questioning room and told her there was a possibility this stalker/assassin guy will kill her, just a tad insensitive.

But nonetheless Y/n responds with, “It’s fine, you were just doing your job, right?” “Yeah.” Y/n takes her ginger shot with a look of remorse on her face. She reaches for the soda in Spencer’s hand, to wash it down.

“You don’t mind sharing with me do you?” Spencer quickly shakes his head mumbling a quick ‘no’ while Y/n’s team calls her to get into the dress, Y/n takes off the robe she was wearing, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen, then throwing the robe over a nearby chair. Now standing in just her underwear she smiles at Spencer before walking over to the team helping her get into the dress.

Leaving Spencer to watch her as she subtly sways her hips slightly more than usual when she walks. Spencer takes a sip of the soda Y/n had handed back after taking a sip, Derek coming over to tease Spencer about the scene he just watched.

“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” “Shut up.” Spencer says as he walks away. “Go get ‘em, lover.”

Y/n didn’t get to stay at the Met nearly as long as she wished. With double the security and Spencer there with her, she knew she wouldn’t have the night she was hoping for, but maybe something close.

But as she danced with Tom Hiddleston, Spencer got the call to take her to the safe house. Spencer didn’t really want to interrupt Y/n dancing on who he assumes is another famous person, but he had to, for her safety.

“Um- Y- Y/n we have to go.” Spencer says while struggling to gain her attention.

“Really?” “Yeah..” “Okay” she sighs, turning to Tom, mumbling an apology and some fake excuse.

They got to Y/n's home. Spencer rambling about safety measures Y/n should take. “You should also probably change all your phone numbers.” “I’m unlisted.” “Anytime you call an 800 number or an 888 number your phone number’s put into a data bank that’s then sold to telemarketers. If someone gets your cell phone number they can go online and research all your records.”

Y/n looks at Spencer expecting him to continue, but when he doesn’t she assumes he’s done, and gets up to walk into her kitchen, saying as she gets up, “You’re very cute when you ramble.” Causing Spencer to freeze but when she turns the corner out of his sight he rushes to keep up with her.

“You should also probably carry a piece of paper and a pen with you wherever you go in case you see any suspicious licence plates that often reappear.” Spence trails of looking closely at a collage hung up on Y/n’s wall

“It’s a photographic collage. I like how obscure it is.”

“You should also get a dog. Like a guard dog of some sort.” Spencer says, staring intently at the collage but not acknowledging what Y/n said about it.

“I don’t think so, I'm a cat person. Dogs are not for me… Earl grey good?”

“Wha- what?”

“Tea, do you want some tea?”

“Uh yes, yes sure.”

“Okay” Y/n says smiling at his nervousness.

Y/n walks into the living room, in her swimsuit with a robe overtop, coming to stand next to Spencer while he stares intently at the picture collage on Y/n’s wall.

“Are you feeling anything?” “There is something definitely appealing about it.” “That’s a start” Y/n says while chuckling.

Turning on her heels towards the back door to the pool. This catches Spencer’s actions wondering what she's doing, he asks, “What are you doing?” “Going for a swim.” Y/n responds nonchalantly. “What? No, Y/N!” Spencer yells following her, but before he can reach her she dives into the pool.

Swimming up to the surface and wiping her face with her hands. She looks so gorgeous, she looks like a movie star, which is not far off. But Spencer really shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she is when he’s job is to keep her safe, and her being out here is not safe.

“Y/n, you cannot do this.” “Just a few minutes?” She ‘asks’ while giving Spencer puppy dog eyes. “Go get a suite in the house.” “What? No, I’m not going to grab a suit. Are you kidding me? No.” Spencer says in that high pitched tone he does, she’s only heard it once before, but she can’t help but find it so cute.

“Join me.” “No, I’m going to join you.” “Why not?” “You’re being pursued by a psychotic killer who shoots people in the head!” “I’m not going to stop living my life because of him.” Y/n turns to float in the water. “Y/n, I’m begging you. Will you please get out of the pool?”

“Come on, Spence, you should live a little.” “Live a little? I’ve not known you for 24 hours, I feel like I’ve already aged 10 years.” “Ugh, I can’t be that bad.” “Yes, you are that bad.” Y/n turns off of her back and starts to swim to the edge of the pool Spencer is standing at.

“Fine, but can you help me out at least?” She says putting on an innocent face as if she really did want help out of the pool. When Spencer leans down to grab her hand to help her up, Y/n pulls him into the pool causing a big splash following after Spencer falls in.

Which then causes a laugh to come from Y/n as Spencer rises to the water's surface.

“Yes, very funny. Laugh it up, Y/n. Hilarious. My gun’s wet. That’s just great” Spencer swims to the edge to get his gun out of the water, Y/n swimming behind him, still chuckling.

“My clothes.” “I told you to grab a suit.”

While Spencer looks down at his wet chest, Y/n’s hand comes to rest on his peck, causing Spencer to look up at Y/n. When he looks at her, she is already looking in his eyes, her eyes asking the question ‘do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?’ the answer being ‘yes’ as Spencer starts to lean in. Not knowing what he’s doing, leaning in to kiss Y/n L/n global superstar? Who does he think he is, thinking she would want to kiss him? But contrary to Spencer's beliefs, Y/N leans in too, pulling his body closer to hers faster by his tie. As their lips collide, it feels as if the world slows down. For the first time in a long time Y/n feels normal, regular, ordinary, in the best possible way. She feels in the way Spencer's lips are moving against hers that he doesn’t want her for her fame, or looks, but for her. Just her. But then Spencer pulls away. It had only been a couple seconds, how could a kiss that short hold that much emotion? Spencer’s words stop her from thinking too much.

“This is completely inappropriate.” “Spence..” Y/n looks into Spencer's eyes only looking away when she closes them and pulls him into another kiss, by his tie. This kiss, still sweet and emotion filled, yet rougher, as if they had gotten that much more comfortable now versus 15 seconds ago. Their lips move together roughly, Y/n tongue brushing Spencer’s lips looking for access, which causes Spencer to move his lips back from Y/n’s again. “No, there’s this thing called transference.” Spencer says, all the while Y/n is trying to recover from the best kiss of her life, and Spencer has no idea. “Do you not like me?” “What?” Spencer says quickly like him not liking her, and is just the most insane idea in the world, and truthfully that’s not far off. “Was that kiss not good?” “No- no it was very good.” “Because I like you.” “I like you too. It’s just I’m a federal agent. You know. And I’m supposed to protect you.” “Then you should keep me close.” Y/n mumbles moving her lips to Spencers again. Spencer pulls back to start talking again, as Y/N’s kisses move to his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin every so often, the first nibble causing Spencer to let out a surprised noise that quickly turns into a moan. “I’m just, hmm.. I’m a little worried, you know? We’re in a pool.” “Are we?” “And it’s uh.. We’re pretty much exposed.” Y/n moves to give Spencer's lips a quick peck, before responding to his concerns. “We have cops. We have cops posted out front.” Y/n cuts herself off to kiss Spencer again, “There are coyotes out back.” Y/n pauses looking at Spencer’s lips, while licking her own, then shooting her eyes up to Spencer’s “And then it’s just you and me.” Y/n moves her lips to be hovering over Spencer’s their noses rubbing against each other, it feels much more intimate than just kissing him, breathing in the after shave and cologne mixed with chlorine soaked into his skin is a smell Y/n would never get sick of, no matter how much she hated the smell of chlorine. She moves her lips back to the spot she found on his neck that makes him the most reactive. “Stop- I have to tell you something.” “What?” “I didn’t want to tell you this before, because I was a little bit worried… I didn’t know how to say it, but I can’t not tell you.” “Spence, just tell me. What is it?” “Your manager, Joe… Hotch went to check on him, but he got there too late.” Y/n looks into Spencer’s eyes any ounce of a look that would tell her he wasn’t serious. Because Joe couldn’t be dead. Not because of her, Joe was like family, no matter how weird he was. Joe was always there. Y/n turns away not being able to look at Spencer, “How could you-” She turns back to him, looking Spencer in the eyes as she aks, “How could you not tell me?” “I was afraid you’d be upset.” “You knew? How could you know and not tell me?” “Y/n, I’m so sorry” Y/n moves towards the edge of the pool to pull herself out, Spencer trying to help her. “Don’t- Don’ touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” Y/n gets out walking back into the house with a towel around herself, leaving Spencer in the pool.

Spencer walks into Y/n’s living room, seeing her sitting on her couch crying, he wants to comfort her. Just don't know how. “Y/n?...Are you still… Are you okay?” “Joe was like family.” Hearing Y/n cry hurts Spencer more than he thought possible from a girl he met not even 24 hours ago. “It’s just so hard to trust people in this industry, you don’t know who to believe.Everybody wants something from you. And I felt- I thought you were different.” “I know I should have told you.” “I told him not to.” Rossi cuts in having heard most of the conversation from behind Spencer. “He was only following my orders.” Rossi pats Spencer's shoulder while leaving the room. “The last time I could really trust people was when I moved to Nashville.” Y/n says, all the while Spencer is decoding the picture collage on Y/n’s wall. “Nashville, you said you lived you Houston street? And you were on KZ fm in high school?..” “Yeah..?” When Y/n sees the way Spencer is intensely staring at the collage she also gets up, to stand next to him. “I need to take this thing about.” Spencer says while not looking away. “What?” “I’ll put it back. I think I see images of you. Guys!”

Y/n stands to the side with Derek while Spencer and Emily are putting the pieces together. “Y/n, it looks like someone has been stalking you for years.”

“Yeah, this tells your whole life story. Awards, Billboard charts, Albums.”

“Everything since moving to Nashville.”

“Who gave you this collage?” Derek asked, leaning over the island counter. “Um- he did” Y/N says pointing at a picture on the collage. “Who is he?” “Uh- Parker Dunley, I don’t really know him, he just owns a gallery I go to sometimes.”

Spencer gets off the phone quickly turning to Y/N. “Y/N, do you someone by the name of Veronica Hartley?” “Roni? Yeah, of course I know her. I’ve known her for years. She’s one of my assistants.” Their conversation gets cut off by Y/n’s phone ringing. “What is it?” Spencer asks, seeing the way her eyes widened when she read the caller ID.

“That’s her calling now.”

“Is she calling from her cell phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Y/n, we think Roni’s the stalker.”

“No- No way.”

“Answer the phone. Act completely natural, the longer you keep her on the line the more likely we’ll be able to trace the call.. Trust me.” Spencer walks away to call the team, while Y/n answers Roni’s call.

“Hello?…Roni?...” Spencer turns to Y/N and gives her a signal to keep talking.

“Rons?... You’re tired?......I saw you today?.... I don’t know what you’re talking about.. I remember.. Roni, that was just one weekend…”

“Y/n” Spencer whisper yells, after getting off the phone with Penny, finding out Roni’s calling inside the house.

“How did she get inside?”

“She has keys.”

Spencer starts searching the house Y/n walking behind him. When they get up to a guest bedroom, Y/n feels the barrel of a gun being pressed to her skull, Spencer quickly turns around.

“Put down the gun.” Roni demands. “Roni..” Spencer says while lowering his gun. “Don’t call me ‘Roni” you don’t know me! Come on, Y/n, let’s go. We have to go, baby. Come on.” Y/n looks in Spencer’s eyes begging him to do something. “Roni, don’t hurt her. You don’t need to hurt her.” “You don’t know anything. I would never hurt her. I created her" "No you didn’t.” “Yes, I did you stupid, ungrateful, little bitch.. I can’t believe I ever loved you.” “Roni, she.. She loves me now.” Roni moves her gun from pointing it at Y/n’s head to pointing it at Spencer. “She told me so. When we were in the pool. She kissed me. Now she loves me okay?” “No.” “Tell her we kissed in the pool.” “No!’ Roni yells this time switching from pointing her gun from Spencer to Y/n. Y/n looks at Spencer hopefully to tell her the next move, when he nods his head at her she says, “Yes, we kissed.” Roni then pushes Y/n, and Spencer tackles Roni to the ground, grabbing her gun, and pointing it at her. “Kill me! Please. Kill me! I’ll be so much happier!” But Spencer shakes his head, lowering the gun as he says, “No, we’re going to get you some help.”

Y/n is standing in the station talking to her publicist, while news vans are lined up outside.

“I don’t want any media.” “Come on, Y/n” “No. No media.” “Okay, no media. Let me deal with these guys then.”

After Y/n’s publicist leaves, Spencer walks up to Y/n. “I wish we didn’t meet under these circumstances. More normal maybe.” “Y/n, believe me, no matter how we met, I’m glad we did.” Y/n feels her whole body, warm at that, she turns her head, knowing Spencer can see the blush on her face. They’re interrupted when Derek yells for Spencer. “Hey, Reid. Come on, we got to move.” “Well, um- here, take this.” Y/n passes Spencer a receipt she had written her new number on. “Would you- if it’s okay with you, give me a call.” “Yeah, I would love to.” Rossi comes walking over. “I hate to intrude, kid, but we’re waiting.” “Yeah- yeah a second.” “So- call me, I’ll be waiting.” Y/n turns to walk away, but Spencer puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Y/n turns towards Spencer, he puts his hand on her check, Y/n leaning into his palm, turning her head slightly to press a small kiss into his palm, before walking away.

#spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid x famous!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid

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deathbecomesthem · 6 months

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You Can't Go Home Again

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 8.1K Words

Hawkins, Indiana - 2006. Reader and Eddie are both 40. The Reader has a 19 year old daughter that is mentioned.

Summary: You're both in town for a funeral. This is a love story.

Contains smut, death, love, booze, and weed. Just like all the best things in life, you take the good with the bad or your ass misses out.

+18 only. No one under the age of 18 has my consent to interact with anything on my blog. I am old enough to be your mother.

If you like this story, please let me know. Reblogs are strongly encouraged. If it doesn't get passed around, it dies in this spot. Thank you @jo-harrington and @br0ck-eddie for reading this over and telling me it's worth publishing on this blog. I love you both more than words can express.

---

You can’t go home again. Or so you’ve been told. Yet here you are, zooming down the familiar stretch of highway that leads back to that place. You turn the thought over in your mind while your hand surfs against the wind outside of your car window. You aren’t going home, not really. Hawkins isn’t your home anymore. It hasn’t been since you pulled out of your parents’ driveway over a decade ago.

At least he had the common decency to die as the leaves started changing color, you think to yourself while your hand surfs in the wind outside your open window. The view is really spectacular. The trees look like they’re on fire as the sun begins to dip below the canopy. Indiana is flatland, but it’s still pretty in its own way. Wide open, it bares itself to you. It is what it is. There are no hills to hide behind. Not in these parts, anyway.

As you cross the county line, you flip on the radio and tune to the local country station. Might as well acclimate, you think, but really, you’re happy to hear Bonnie Raitt’s bluesy voice as you pull off the highway. She’s singing about how she can’t make someone love her, and you hold up an imaginary glass to toast the sentiment. That’s something you’ve learned the hard way.

I’ll close my eyes, then I won’t see.

The love you don’t feel when you’re holding me.

You don’t realize a tear has escaped your eye until you feel it rolling down your cheek. You wipe it away angrily and wonder when every little thing will stop making the tears come. It doesn’t matter, not right now. Not this week. Tears are appropriate for a funeral, and it’s what everyone will expect to see from you. Even if they’re borrowed tears.

At the stop sign at the corner of Elm and Maple you sit longer than the 3 seconds required by law. It’s not until a BMW pulls up behind that you push up the indicator to hook a right. As you pass by the entrance to Forrest Hills, Deanna Carter is singing about Strawberry Wine and being 17. You can feel heat rising in your cheeks when you let your own memories flit across your mind. It’s true, the hot July moon really did see everything the summer of 1985.

You chuckle at yourself and turn the wheel, left this time. The old motel is up on the right, just at the Hawkins line. You’ve spent too much of your life thinking about a time that only existed for a moment. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because despite all of the daydreams you’ve had about running into him throughout the years, it’s never happened. And you’ve never taken the time to look. You’ve only seen him in your dreams, and what a delight that’s been.

The gravel crunches under your tires, and the feeling that something’s been forgotten rises like a wave. Every couple of hours, it comes unbidden. No, you haven’t forgotten her, she’s in her new apartment on the other side of town from your own. Right now, she’s probably out to dinner with Janey. It’s discount movie night, and that’s something every college student knows to take advantage of. You’re not forgetting her, but her absence leaves a hole that can only be filled with anxiety. It’s something no one really tells you, something that you wouldn’t be able to understand from words alone - your children are a piece of yourself that moves freely in the world. The further you move from them, the deeper the cut.

You’ve already decided you’ll try to call tonight, hoping against hope that she’s still at her place when you ring in. Hearing her voice will fill you a little, and maybe at least make sleep easier. Maddy told you she’d miss you, and you know that’s true. It’s a good thing to hear each other every day, even if it’s only for a moment.

When you come around a wide curve in the road, you’re pleased to see that the bar next to the motel is still standing, and that the lights are on. You’re getting drunk tonight. Why not? For the first time in a long time, you’re only accountable for yourself. Hawkins can swallow you up for the week, and no one outside of this place will see it. And then you’ll never step foot into Indiana again.

—

It’s stupid, and he knows it. He hasn’t been back here in years, and the only reason he’s doing this is because he liked the old guy. Wayne taught him to respect that. To show up for the family. Always go to the funeral, he’d told him, it eases the pain for the loved ones and makes ‘em remember there were people in the world that gave a shit about ‘em. When Eddie was a kid, he remembered how it felt to look out into the church and see so many faces with tears in their eyes. He remembered thinking that it was important that so many people turned out to say goodbye to his Mama, even if they were people that he never got to know outside of that mourning space. Wayne was right, it does matter. It does help. And he’s showing up, even if the thought of seeing you makes his stomach dip and his heartbeat faster.

It’s not about you, you fucking idiot. The words have been surfacing in his mind over and over this last week. It’s not about him, and he knows that. At least, his brain knows that, but there’s a place deep inside of him that can’t help but think about the possibility of something. Of what? Well, if he thinks too hard about it, his dick takes over. There have been many times over the years that Eddie let his mind wander back to his 18th summer, when the heat of your bodies rivaled the heat of the sun beating down on the two of you. Many times he’s touched himself, trying to find the right way to move his fingers to replicate the way your hands felt on him. He’s ashamed of it. He tries not to think about it, but the news of the funeral seems to have lit that spark inside of him again, just as he thought the old smoldering embers were finally snuffed out.

He told Wayne he’d be driving up for the services, hoping the old guy would be able to bring the rambler to meet him in Hawkins. It would save him the cost of a motel room, and the death of the old man’s friend is an unwelcome reminder that everything comes to an end eventually. But Wayne isn’t going to make it. Eddie should’ve known. As much as Wayne taught him about being there for the family, Wayne was closer to Jim than his blood ever was. Especially you. Wayne would be the first to admit that Jim made his bed, and now he’ll spend his eternal rest in it. Wayne will mourn in his own way, he’ll come down when no one knows he’s there to pour one out on his buddy’s grave. That’s alright. It’s how Jim would want it. The funeral will be a farce. People saying goodbye to an old bastard that no one really liked.

When Eddie passes the southerly Indiana border, his ass really starts to get sore. He should’ve flown in and rented a car. He’s getting too old for these long bike rides, and the Indian’s seat isn’t made for this kind of trip. He’s never seen the need to replace the warehouse installed seat, his daily commutes to the construction trailer are short, and he takes a work truck out to the job sites. Maybe it’s time to think about investing in a vehicle that allows for a little more comfort. His ass is only going to spread more from here on out. Turning 30 was like hitting a brick wall, all the years of fun have finally caught up. Now that he’s passed the 40-year mark, every day is a new opportunity to feel aches in parts of his body he never thought about in his younger years. Sometimes he would swear that he could feel his small intestine groan when he caught a whiff of something greasy. And sometimes he can’t go through the night without having to hop out of bed to take a piss. The most obvious reminder for Eddie is looking in the mirror and seeing the way his old tattoos have turned gray over the years, especially his beloved bats. Working outside in the sun has made them fade, and no amount of touch ups can bring them back to their former glory. Sometimes he thinks about you running your fingers over them, the way you ran them along the outline of the wings.

Time passes, and tattoos fade like memories. He knows too. He got to watch Wayne age, see the lines dig deeper and deeper into his face while he made sure Eddie kept a roof over his head. It’s amazing for him to think about the old guy, not really as old as he used to think. Eddie’s got more years than Wayne did back in those days. Close enough to be brothers more than father and son, but neither of them got a choice when it was time for his own Mama to go into the ground. The only one choosing in those days was Al, and every decision was a wrong one.

Eddie hates coming back to Hawkins, it stirs up the old shit he doesn’t think about anymore. It’s easier to see those times through rose colored glasses when he isn’t smack dab in the middle of the town that cut him so deeply in so many different ways. But he’s showing up. He’s doing this thing because it’s right. It has nothing to do with the minute possibility that he might get to find out how the years have treated you. Especially since he knows how you left Hawkins. But time does heal. Eddie’s proof of that.

—

The roadside motel is in better shape than you expect, so you strike your mental chalkboard on the pro side. At least you have a clean bed to sleep in for the next 6 nights. At least you won’t be forced to sleep on Uncle Jim’s couch. You think about what it will feel like being in his little shack. You think about how his own kids won’t show up to sift through his shit belongings to pull out any hidden treasures before the bank throws it all in the dumpster. You’re doing this thing for your father, because he asked you to. You need to make sure the stuff that ended up with Jim when your grandma died doesn’t get lost forever. No cash value to any of it, but it’s worth something to your dad, and he can’t face the ghost of his brother. Not even for his mother’s wedding band, or the family bible.

Your first thought when you opened the door to your home for the week was that you could still smell the faint scent of bleach hanging in the air. Good. These kinds of places have more personality, but it’s always a roll of the dice about cleanliness. The bed is soft, and the comforter smells of Snuggle. Also good. The scent is nostalgic, you can feel the muscles in your shoulders relax. You’ll be able to sleep here. You think that’s exactly what you’ll do. The heavy shades are drawn, so it’s full dark and quiet. You’ve got the room at that butts against the woods, but it doesn’t matter anyway, your car is the only one in the small parking lot tonight.

You’re sinking deeper into the mattress, and you begin to float away. You sit on the edge of sleep, about to topple over it when your ears begin to register a distant sound growing closer. It’s a purr that grows into a deep growling rumble. You stumble to your feet to peek your head out from behind your curtain. It’s full dark now, but the orange glow of the lights at each door along the row of rooms illuminates the parking lot enough for you to see the bike and its rider. Leather clad, head to toe, he’s wearing a small bucket helmet - the kind your daddy used to say they’d have to scoop your brains out of if you wrecked - and sunglasses. You watch him make his way to the door next to your own and let himself inside.

Well, you can think of a worse neighbor to have. At least you know you’re not alone out here. Maybe you’ll make a friend while you’re stuck in the hell that is Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe he'll let you bum a smoke or two.

—

You think about your call to Maddy while you walk down the street to the Hideout. She’s fine. All good. She got her new set of pots and pans from the big Sears out at the mall, and she didn't even need your help picking them out. Her dad did a good job. You’re happy for her. A girl doesn’t forget her first move away from home, and you suspect she's more nervous than she's been letting on. You can almost feel the butterflies beat in your own belly at the thought of rent checks and overtime while making it to class every morning. You hope she knows she can talk to you about it. You hope she remembers that you promised to help her if she gets into any jams. Maybe. Maybe not. She deserves to keep her secrets if it's how she wants to go about life. You'll be there either way.

Before you even open the door to the bar, you can smell the smoke and booze wafting through the cracks. That’s perfect. It’s why you’re here. You look down at your black jeans and smile. It took a few good jumps to get into, but your ass looks fantastic in them. You think you might even manage to get a drink out of someone, as long as the clientele is the same as it was when you were here last. Tammy Wynette is coming through the speakers of the jukebox, and the old curtains are pulled across the jury-rigged stage at the back. No band tonight. Just a couple of old drunks passing time at the sticky counter. You take the stool at the end, back facing the door, and think about what song you’ll choose for the room.

“Hello, ma'am,” a bright eyed 20 something from behind the bar greets you as you shift your weight to get comfortable on the cracked cushion under your ass. Ma’am. You decide to let that one slide and give him a big smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, I think I’d like a whiskey sour, kind sir.” The words escape your lips without much thought. You haven’t had one in ages. Possibly the last time you had a drink as sweet as a whiskey sour was in this very bar. It wasn’t hard to get served with Big Dave behind the bar, especially when Eddie and the boys played.

The boy nods at you and gets to work on your drink. You see him flip through a rolodex of cards hidden under the bar, cheat sheets. He likely spends his nights pouring pitchers of Budweiser, rarely having to figure out how to make mixed drinks. Especially when the customers are good ole boys between the ages of 35 and 70. Even back in your day, the girls only showed up when there were boys their own age on the stage. You wonder if Bev is around somewhere. If she’s still kicking. The way the place still feels the same as it did back in '84 tells you she's still the owner of this shit stain of an establishment. But it's her shit stain, and good for her.

The bartender sets the glass in front of you with a cocktail napkin under it, fancy, and you feel a draft when the door at your back swings open. The drink isn’t bad, but you wouldn’t know if it was wrong. You don’t do mixed drinks. You’re a neat bourbon drinker. The sweet liquor does what it’s meant to, because you swear you can almost smell something familiar from the past as a figure goes past you. Like smoke and Old Spice with a hint of weed. This place is full of ghosts, you think, returning your focus back to glass coated in ice sweat.

“Hey, man. Three Wise Men and 3 fingers of Jim Beam.” The voice of the newcomer at the bar makes your head snap up. You watch his profile for a second. You see his hand disappear inside his jacket and come out with a pack of Camels. With a flick of his Zippo, his face is illuminated by the glow of the flame. You’ve seen it so many times, but even from this distance you catch sight of the creases that didn’t exist the last time you saw him. You wonder if you really did fall asleep if you’re really back in your motel room having one of your dreams again. The too sweet liquor on your tongue is real, and so must Eddie Munson be real.

You can’t peel your eyes from him, so you don’t try. You keep your gaze fixed to his face and wait for him to notice you. There are no words in you, and you’re afraid your legs will buckle if you try to stand up and walk over to him. You look at his hand, black lines decorate his knuckles. The ring on his left hand is silver, and you’re happy to see it sit on his middle finger. You banish the thought and break your gaze for a second to shake your stupid head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie’s voice echoes through the room, and everyone looks at him, even the drunk in the corner that can barely keep his head up. “Jesus Christ.”

Blood rushes to your head as he stands and makes his way over to you. Your heart is in your throat. You’d refused to let yourself believe that seeing Eddie this week was anything more than just a fleeting fantasy. The same fantasy that’s been playing through your mind for years. Pinch yourself, you fool. Too late, you’re standing on wobbly legs and giving him the kind of awkward hug reserved for old classmates - and apparently old lovers.

You break apart slowly, and sink down into your barstools, eyes never breaking contact. You think if you look away right now, he might turn into smoke and escape through the air vents. Your hands are on your lap, body still turned towards Eddie, Eddie Munson, and you pinch the skin between your thumb and index finger on your left hand until it hurts. This is real.

You’re both brought out of your shared reverie when the kid behind the bar slides Eddie’s drinks down to his new spot, along with the ashtray holding his still smoldering cigarette. Without a thought in your head, you pick it up and take a long drag before pinching it between your fingers to hand it back to him, filter out.

“So.” You exhale smoke through the word and let it hang for a second while Eddie brings the filter to his lips. The smoke of a kiss between the two of you hangs heavy in the air. “Eddie Munson, what brings you here tonight? Is Corroded Coffing playing a set later?”

Eddie’s crooked grin sits on his lips the same as it ever has, but it’s complemented by more fine lines at the corners of his eyes. You think it would be something to run a finger along them and feel the texture of his skin there.

“You know, I had this-” Eddie shakes his head and makes a noise like a huff of incredulity at what he hasn’t even said yet, “-I had this idea that I might see you here tonight. I’m sorry about Jim.”

“Oh,” you can’t hide the surprise on your face. The sudden presence of Eddie has scrubbed your mind clean of your purpose in Hawkins this week. Uncle Jim is dead. You try for a small frown, but decide against it and say, “yeah. I’m here for the funeral. Also, I promised my dad to go through the house before everything ends up at the dump.”

Eddie nods. His eyes dart across your face and then down to your hands. You’re suddenly very aware of the way your ring finger on your left hand still holds the indent of a band that’s been missing for months now. You think it may never truly leave you. You wonder if he’s seen it.

“Well, I think this is fate.” Eddie slaps his hand down on the bar, still as sticky as ever, and waves over the bartender that’s drying a glass with a bar towel. He turns back to you and says, “We’re drinking to that old bastard tonight.”

—

“Do you remember,” Eddie’s voice is too loud, but the only person left in the bar other than the two of you is a drunk with his head resting on the counter. He doesn’t seem bothered enough to lift his head, “breaking into the abandoned warehouse? Oh god, you were shaking like a leaf ‘Eddie, we should leave. What if someone’s hiding out in here?’” Eddie’s impersonation of your 18-year-old voice is both insulting and wildly inaccurate.

“You fucking asshole, you were the one that hauled ass out of there when a squirrel crawled out from under a desk. The noise you made,” you snort at the memory, “you sounded like my mom that time she found a dead mouse in her sugar dish.”

“That little fucker went straight for me, you can’t deny it.” Eddie’s finger is pointed directly between your eyes in an accusation. On instinct, you grab it with your fist and twist his arm. This is an old routine, one that the two of you had down pat all those years ago. Except now, Eddie’s a lot stronger, and he’s able to twist his arm back. You find your wrist in his strong grip, and you have no idea how it got there.

This is when you notice it. This is Eddie in front of you, but he’s not a boy. It’s not just your body that’s changed since the last time you were together. With his jacket thrown on the stool beside him, his forearms are bare before you. Sinful. Old ink and new, black lines and gray. But right now, it’s the flexed muscle that’s caught your eye. Oh, to be held by him.

The laughter in your chest dies and Eddie releases you. He waves the bartender down before he can call out a last call. One more round for the road, and you’re wishing you had a way to freeze this moment in time and keep him here.

But you can’t, so you take your final shots and hug each other. Jackets are thrown over shoulders, and you make your way side by side to the door.

“I’m staying at the motel on the corner. You should stop by sometime, I’ll be here all week.” You shove your shoulder into Eddie’s playfully and find that the booze has made your feet a little unstable. He puts an arm around you to keep you from stumbling.

“Well, let me walk you home then.” His arm doesn’t leave your side. You’re both hyper aware of the way his thumb strokes against the patch of soft exposed skin at your waist while you wander up the sidewalk, a little zig zag to your movements.

It’s been a night of sharing memories with no talk of the present. No acknowledgement of that indent on your finger where a ring lived for so long. You let yourself drink in the cool autumn air with Eddie’s arms holding you close to him. You let yourself feel held by him. You let yourself imagine that maybe this is real, and you let a sliver of moonlight pierce the darkness you’ve been hiding yourself in for these long months.

“This is my stop.” You pull away and lean your back against the door to your room at the end of rooms that line the facade of the old motel. It’s dark out, and the pale orange glow of the light above the door frame does little more than cast shadows across Eddie’s face. He could be mistaken for that boy if not for the way his shoulders stand wider than you remember. “Will you come in, Eddie?”

He tastes like whisky and smoke, and that’s just how you remember him. Gods, his mouth. His tongue moves swiftly across your lips, and your knees begin to sink. Those strong arms hold you up, they keep you in your spot so he can take his fill. This is the kind of kiss, one that makes you weak in the knees, that you thought was a thing that only existed in your past.

“So, yes?” You break apart from his kiss and rest your head in his chest to catch your breath.

“Yes, please.” Eddie kisses the top of your head and breathes in your hair before spinning you around to face the door. “Open the door, Sweetheart.”

The clicking of the door, and the snap of the deadbolt. Those things are clear, the anticipation of what comes next makes you laser focused on the feel of the metal under your fingers. And then it’s a flurry of mouths and hands. Teeth clicking, noses bumping. A stumble over a shoe in your shared path. You fall to the bed in a heap, it’s surprising how many articles of clothes have been discarded in the short distance between door and mattress.

“Is this real, or am I dreaming?” Eddie whispers into your neck, hot breath on the spot that he remembers makes you keen. His teeth test the skin, and you reward him with a gasp and a roll of your hips. “Fuck, I don’t care if I wake in a mess like a teenager. If this is a dream, I never want to leave it.”

You’d forgotten the way Eddie uses his words, but your body remembers the steps. Fingers waltz along your wider curves, they’re a quick study and map out the places that make you whine. Make you catch your breath. This is what he thinks about so often, the way you get lost under his touch. Your trust in him is still alive, and his need reaches a fever pitch.

“Eddie, please.” It’s all you can say, but it’s enough to snap Eddie out of his reverie. His hands are stroking the valley at your chest while his cock throbs against the cotton fabric of his boxers, hypnotized by the way your skin gives under the pressure of his fingers.

As above, so below. Hot mouths reach into one another as he spreads your legs and sinks his length into your heat. For a fleeting moment, it's a perfect union of bodies. Two as one. You need your breath as he reaches deeper inside you. He rests his forehead on yours and snaps harder into you. His open mouth takes the groans that leave you as he hits that tender and hard to reach place inside.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You feel so good.” Eddie’s words float around your face as you reach your peak. It’s the words, not the ecstasy, which draw the tears from your eyes. Beautiful. You believe him, how could you not? You want to tell him that he’s beautiful, because he is. Instead you wrap your arms around him and kiss him while he cums. The last rocks of his hips move in rhythm with the languid kisses you share.

—-

You wake in the morning to find crumpled sheets in the space that was occupied by Eddie Munson as you drifted off to sleep. It really was a dream, you think, but the stickiness between your thighs tells you that there was a man in this bed last night. The idea that he’s left without a trace doesn’t even pass your mind, because not Eddie. He doesn’t do that.

You ignore the pounding at your temple and drop your feet to the carpet. A full bladder is an urgent thing that can’t be denied. The freezing tile under your toes jolts you to attention. You map your next steps while you piss, and then wash your hands. You take the time to brush your teeth before heading back into the dark bedroom to find an outfit for the day. It doesn’t matter where Eddie has wandered off to, you need to head over to Jim’s. Eddie can find you later. Eddie will find you later. That’s something you know. Right now? You need coffee. It’s when you go to put your shoes on that you see it. A tiny scrap of paper on the side table next to your keys.

I didn’t want to wake you. I had some business to take care of while I’m in town. Dinner? I’m staying in the room next to yours. I’ll be back by 6.

You shake your head. Your boozy brain missed it last night. Of course it’s Eddie in the room next to yours. The thought of him on that bike makes your head spin. Makes you throb. Dinner, sure. Food is fuel and you’re gonna fucking need it. In the meantime, you have a job to do.

The way to Jim’s house is familiar but strange. Like trying to hold onto a dream as you’re starting to wake. The roads have the same names, but the trees are taller. It feels smaller, the houses closer together. In no time, you’re pulling up the drive to the shack that stands at the far end of Oak Street. It’s easy to forget it, set a little farther back than the other homes, hidden in the shade of the oaks the road is named for.

With a deep breath, you step out of your car and move swiftly to the front door. The smell hits you immediately. It’s not overwhelmingly awful, but it’s not good. Mildew and smoke. It smells empty. So you fill it with the fall air by opening every window. You’re happy to keep your jacket on to replace the smoke with the smell of the dry oak leaves that litter the yard around the house.

The soundtrack to your day digging through the life of your Uncle Jim is provided by the records stacked up by the player in his living room. Bob Dylan, CCR, and Pink Floyd. It could be worse, so you’re grateful. The treasures you discovered hold no true financial value, but they are priceless. Photo albums of long-lost family members, depression glass cake stands and punch bowls, and the piece de resistance - the family bible. You run your fingers across the leather cover and smile. You did good, kid. Grandma’s ring, though. You’ll come back at least one more time and truly tear the place apart before you hit the road. If it’s here, it’s going home with you.

—

Rick’s place is still home for Eddie, more so than the trailer park ever was. Wayne’s home was never Hawkins, and it served him well to be back in the wild mountains of West Virginia from where the Munsons hail. But Rick is a Hawkins institution, and he’s only ever had love for Eddie without the pressure of the constant concern that weighed on Wayne and Eddie’s relationship. That’s how it is with a father and son. Rick is the fun uncle that taught Eddie a way to bring in cash without being under the thumb of some asshole. It’s served him well throughout his life, even now. Eddie can find work anywhere, he carries his skills in his hands.

Rick is expecting Eddie, and he’s sitting out front when the Indian hums up the road that hugs Lovers’ Lake. It’s still pretty out here from Eddie’s perspective, especially with the trees still hanging on to the leaves of various colors. Eddie’s already thinking about getting you to come out here with him before you both leave town at the end of the week. As soon as he caught sight of you last night he had decided to wring out as much as he could from this brief reunion. No time to waste, especially if maybe there’s someone you’re going home to. He’s not going to ask that question. He doesn’t want to know. For now, you’re both here, and that’s more than he thought could ever be possible.

“Eddie! Oh man, it’s been too long, brother.” Rick’s on his feet and meeting Eddie in the driveway for a bear hug. “Sight for sore eyes.”

They sit outside on the back deck for hours, talking about the old days and the new. They watch the sunlight dance along the ripples in the water when the occasional fish comes to the surface for a waterbug. They pass joints back and forth, and sip on the instant coffee that Rick swears is better than that overpriced bullshit the coffee houses try to con people into buying. And then they get down to business for a few minutes over a game of pool. Like the old days. It’s healing to remember there is a place in this godforsaken hellhole that Eddie can feel like himself. It was never all bad, but nothing ever is. Eddie knows this, his own life is a mixed bag. He has to take the bad or else lose out on the potential good.

The sun is starting to sink down below the trees when Eddie swings his leg over the seat of his bike to head back to the other side of town. He’s glad. He’s hoping that you’ve decided to accept his dinner invitation. The memories were fun to relive, but his mind is whirring with questions about who you are now. He’d like to hear it. He’d like to tell you about the bands he plays with on the weekends back in Charleston. Last night was nice, but he’d like to spend some time with you while the lights are on. He let his cock carry him away too quickly last night, he hopes he gets a chance to take his time with you tonight. His thighs vibrate from the hum of the engine while he weaves down the streets. He’s half hard remembering the way you smell and the sound of your voice when you get lost with him.

—

“You’d really like her. She’s a natural musician, like her dad. I’m just glad she’s sticking close to home for college. I worry enough even with her living less than a mile away.” You’re rambling on about Maddy while Eddie watches your lips move. He’d had a feeling there was at least one kid back home, he’s dated enough moms to recognize the signs.

“Oh, a girl after my own heart. I already love her.” Eddie’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, his arm reaching across the table. Your plates are empty, and your glasses are drained. Your concern about telling Eddie you have an adult child is forgotten now, and you’re gushing. Just as it should be.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking about Maddy for a while. She’s the sun my life orbits around.” You tip back your martini glass, searching for any last remnants of gin. No luck.

“Yeah, you’re a good mom.” That thumb rubs again. “Of course you are.” Eddie looks around the restaurant and watches as the servers very purposely place chairs on top of tables, inching ever closer to the one where the two of you are seated. “I think we should probably let them shut it down, head back to the motel.”

Head back to the motel. That sounds really good, because Eddie’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. You can just make out the farmer’s tan that starts at the middle of his biceps. You hadn’t noticed it as much last night, but Eddie’s skin is sunkissed from years of working outdoors. A contract carpenter, he told you, and you could almost smell the sawdust and varnish when he explained about his special word working projects. You want to see them. You want to touch them. You have no doubt that they’re unique and special pieces. Eddie’s always had the ability to pull beauty out of the mundane.

“Will you drive, Eddie? Take me the long way home?” You’re already handing him your keys before he can answer. Of course he will. He’ll do anything you want, it’s always been that way. He’d stop the world if it would make you smile.

“Let’s go, Love. You can rest your head on my shoulder.” And that’s what you do. The walk to the car is slow, but Eddie’s arms need to stay around you. It’s where they belong.

He does take the long way, hooking a right when he pulls out of Enzo’s parking lot and heading for the back roads. One hand sits on your thigh. Your head can’t reach his shoulder in the car, so you lean it back and close your eyes. Linda Ronstadt’s been cheated and mistreated, she’s wondering when will she be loved? Some day, Linda, even if it’s for just a fleeting time. The idea pricks your chest, and you push it down. We won’t think about the end until it gets here.

“Will you be my date for the funeral, Eddie? I might not go if I have to do it alone.” You keep your eyes closed, and he squeezes your leg. He’ll go with you, you already know that.

“Yep. And then we’ll go back to the bar and get shitfaced. Bev will love it. Give the old gal something to be pissed about.” You snort at the thought of Bev trying to wrangle two 40 somethings trying to relive their youthful dalliances. Poor woman. But she would probably love it.

“I like your plan, Ed. Now tell me, did you smoke it all, or do you have some weed back at the motel?” You turn to face him, you want to see that crooked grin of his. “I’ve gotta call Maddy when we get back, but I think it’d be nice to sit outside and get nice and toasty.”

“Yeah, well, I might have a little. Can I ask you something?” Eddie turns the wheel and you’re looking at downtown Hawkins. You nod, but your mouth is dry thinking about the possibilities of what he wants to know that you haven’t already told him. “What kind of an asshole wouldn’t hold on tight to someone like you when you’re so fucking perfect?”

“Christ, Munson. Are you high already?” You pull a cigarette out of the pack sitting on the dash and light it. Just a drag before handing it back over to him. You’re both giggling, it was too much. “Well, you might have been the first to let me go, but you weren’t the last. But look at us now, hm? I think it’s better like this. Makes you realize that the grass isn’t always greener, ya know?”

Eddie blows smoke out of his nose and quietly mutters, “I was blind.”

“Nah. What I told you back then is still true, I’ll take what I can get from you, Baby. Any time, any place. It doesn’t have to be forever.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek at your words but keeps his response in his mind.

—

Eddie sits in his room rolling joints while you’re on the other side of the wall talking to your daughter. All that talk about the kid, and no mention of the dad. Eddie knows who Maddy’s dad is because word travels fast. He’s never really thought about the guy much, but Eddie’s pretty sure he’s the one responsible for the sadness living behind your smile.

Eddie pulls the comforter off his bed. He’s taking it outside with him to wait for you on the bench that’s at the entrance to the cemetery across the street from the motel. There are no streetlights out here, and the dead won’t mind the company. They never do. The plans he had for this week are fading into one persistent thought - be with you as much as possible before it’s too late. The threat of Sunday coming too fast hangs over every second that ticks past.

It’s harder for Eddie to push those thoughts away than it is for you, because of the regret. He can’t help but feel it, even though he knows that 1984 Eddie is not the same as Eddie today. He’s learned how to spot a good thing, and that’s you. The idea of holding onto you with both hands doesn’t send a lightning bolt of fear through his guts like it did when he was 18. This couldn’t have happened then, whatever this is. It’s a battle in his mind, trying to see through the haze of the memories, how real can it be when everything is shrouded by the past.

The inward battle halts when he sees the door to your room open. He focuses on your form growing larger with each step closer to him. He watches each step of your feet until you’re looming over him, blotting out the weak light from the motel across the street. You have a soft smile on your lips, and he memorizes the way those lips feel on his forehead before you flop down on the bench next to him. He spreads the comforter over your lap, and pulls you into his side.

“This is so romantic, Eddie. You, me, and the sleeping dead.” You sigh and nuzzle your nose into his neck. “You smell nice.” Your lips brush against his skin and the hair stands up in answer.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Eddie asks as he places a joint between your lips. “I’m hoping to wake up next to you again, but I don’t wanna make any assumptions.” Sparks fly out from his Zippo, and you breathe in the weed smoke before answering.

“Baby, as far as I’m concerned, you could cancel your room for the rest of the week and move into mine. You don’t even need to ask what I want. This is it.” You look up at him and place the joint in his mouth. It’s hard to see his features in the dark, but you think his eyes look a little misty. “Hey now, don’t give me sad eyes, Eddie. We’ve talked about this already. I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie’s voice is low and you’re already feeling a little lighter. It’s been a long time since you’ve smoked, and you can feel the cloud starting to creep across your thoughts.

“Oh? Well never mind then. Fuck you, Munson.” Your retort, but there’s no bite. You pluck the joint out of his fingers.

“I just mean, you deserve better than that, and I’m sorry.” Eddie kisses the top of your head, an apology of sorts.

“We all deserve better than we get, Baby. You should know that. It’s easier to accept it than to try and demand what other people can’t give.” You think the words came out right and can’t muster the energy to care if they didn’t.

“Yeah, but it’s still not right.”

Right or not, it’s a truth you accepted a long time ago. It doesn’t stop the pain, but it kills the resentment. What more can you do? Life is hard enough.

—

The light stays on in your room tonight. The weed slows down time. It swallows you and Eddie up, and gives you the space to study each other. The rough calluses on his fingertips travel along the lines of your body, creating a roadmap in his memory. He needs to remember how to find you again, even when you’re a thousand miles away. He needs to taste you on his lips.

The hunger is as strong as the previous night, it’s why your center on Eddie’s face. It’s why your nose leads the way down his torso, inhaling the smell trapped in the dark hair at the base of his cock. He tastes how you remember. Your mouth wraps around him while his tongue and fingers make you sing. He keeps one wide palm planted on the fat of your ass, his rip is hard enough to bruise. He keeps you in the spot until hot tears spill down your cheeks with the intense pleasure of it all. He keeps you there until he spills himself inside your mouth. And you drop, head on his hip, looking at his softening cock in front of you. You lean over and kiss its tip.

Eddie’s giggles are music to your ears. He suddenly needs to see your face, but your legs are still spread in front of him. He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, but it works. You slowly move your legs over to the side, freeing him so he can crawl down to the end of the bed. He can taste himself on your lips and is surprised to feel his cock jump. You need a little more time than that, Bud.

“I need to tell you something.” Eddie’s arms are wrapped around your sweaty body, and he’s peppering kissing along the bridge of your nose. You release a questioning hum, trying to focus on his words. Sleep is calling to you. “I’m going to the funeral with you tomorrow. I’m going to Jim’s with you to finish the scavenger hunt from hell. I’m spending every fucking second with you until we both leave this shithole. But I don’t want that to be the end.”

“Everything ends, Baby.” You mutter into the skin of his chest. You feel his breath hitch and wonder if there are tears to match the stutter. “But it doesn’t have to end so soon if you don’t want it to.”

“I want to hold onto this, Love. I think we both know this -” Eddie points a finger between the two of you, “- is something special. It always has been. I’ll fucking pick my shit up and move to wherever you are. I won’t even complain about the snow. At least not the first year.”

“I’ll complain enough for the both of us. I always do.” You kiss his chest and look up at him. There are tears, You reach up to rub them off his cheek. You look at the hair at his temple and see the way the gray hair threads through his dark curls. You think it would be something, wouldn’t it? To see the gray overtake the black over the years. And you know Eddie doesn’t say anything to you that he doesn’t mean. It’s not something he’s capable of doing. “For Eddie Munson, my door is always open.”

“What about Maddy’s dad?” Eddie chokes on the words a little, but he gets them out along with a fresh tear that leaks from the corner of his eye. That’s something you’ve always loved about Eddie, he’s never hidden the tears when they show up.

“That’s been over for a while, Ed. I should’ve told you that.” You stroke his cheek and smile. “You’re down bad, old man. Wow, that’s really something, ain’t it?”

Eddie’s laugh rumbles through both of you. The years in front of you don’t look so bleak when you picture Eddie’s arm around your waist. The tears won’t sting so much if you have each other to wipe them away. It’s not too late, you’ve got two feet above ground. You’ve got two hands to hold onto this thing, and Eddie’s hands are holding on just as tight now. The memories and the future swirl together, and you thank god for those years apart. It’s so much sweeter this time around.

You fall asleep with Eddie inside of you. I love yous breathed into your mouths. Eddie’s going to have to replace that seat on his bike if he expects you to ride on it with him. He’s adding it to the mental list he has running. Tell Wayne he’s moving closer. Pack his shit up in a Uhaul. Drive a couple hundred miles. Replace the bike seat. Wrap his arms around you and never let go.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #thanatos writes #stranger things smut #wayne munson

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emberfrostlovesloki · 7 months

Text

Unwanted Attention [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: Having to travel to the middle of nowhere Ohio for a serial killer was bad enough, add to the fact that the local LEOs are looking a little too hard at JJ, Emily, and _y/n_ was seriously testing Aaron’s resolve. Lots of protective Hotch here! This is another @imagining-in-the-margins inspired fic for her Meet Cute Writing Challenge. I’m using the dialogue prompt: “Watch where you’re going!” “… You ran into me?!”

Category: Angst/comfort - (mostly comfort I think).

Word Count: 5.8K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence (serial killer - kills via strangulation but nothing explicit) unwanted physical touch (groping of the behind and pubic area) misogyny, sexism, the U.S. police, language, brief mention of intimacy.

A/N: Hi friends! I am very pleased with this one. I love writing Hotch with righteous anger. It just looks too damn good on him. I also love the duality of this man because one moment he is ready to bite someone’s head off and the next he only has eyes for you and he’s checking in and feeling guilty. You could read this story as a standalone or as a prequel to my story, Life can be Terrible, but At Least You're In It. (linked). I want to shout out @criminalskies for hyping me up while writing this. Last, if you enjoyed reading this, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! - Levi

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_f/c_ = favorite color

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/h/c_ = yuur hair color

Walnut Creek Ohio, who on the team had heard of it? Well apart from Spencer, because apparently he’d read a United States Atlas Map one night when his insomnia was bothering him, and he had retained all the information about nearly every tiny town that existed in the States. Spencer was rambling off facts about the tiny town stating, “There are 908 residents in the town as of 2017. It’s shocking that a serial killer would target such a small community where everyone has to know everyone else.” _y/n_, JJ, and Reid were all at the coffee station filling up cups. _y/n_ pulled out her _f/c_ thermos. She always made sure that anyone who wanted coffee got to go first because her reusable metal container took about half the pot. _y/n_ had finally wisened up after Emily and Spencer kept complaining about the coffee getting lukewarm, or worse, cold while sitting on the plane. Now her coffee stayed hot for hours if need be. She had bought the teammates that relied as heavily on caffeine as she did as Holiday or birthday gifts and the thermoses were stored away in one of her closets of her apartment, ready to be taken out and wrapped at the right moment. Spencer’s comment pulled her back to the present moments and she replied, “Nothing can stop a person going bad I guess. Not even a small town.” This stopped Spencer's comments on the location of the team's most recent case, and he shifted gears to talk about the psychological development of those raised in rural environments versus those raised in urban areas. _y/n_ continued to listen to Spencer as he spoke, even if she couldn’t always keep up with his mile-a-minute commentary. She listened because Reid was a fount of knowledge and often a comment he made and maybe didn’t even remember would be helpful later on in the case. She also listened because sometimes the other members of the team didn’t when he spoke. It wasn’t that they didn’t think that what he was saying was important, it was just that they were trying to come up with their own thoughts and theories about the case. _y/n_ was also guilty of tuning Reid out sometimes, but when she could listen to him, she did.

_y/n_ had always been more of a listener than one to contribute to the conversation early on. _y/n_ felt better about talking once she had more information and that normally wasn’t until the team arrived at the case's location or even saw the first crime scene. Once _y/n_ had the bigger picture, she was ready and able to hope in and give her thoughts. Before that time came, she would listen and think about her prior knowledge. Although it might be less exciting than guessing and formulating theories, she found that often some basic information or past cases or criminals was useful when leads dropped or the case seemed to go cold. In her process, she was thinking about the future. As she had integrated into the team full-time at the beginning, Derek teased her for writing so much down in a notebook. She highlighted any relevant information the team stated or facts that seemed relevant. Morgan had joked in good humor but as the first few cases came to a close, the whole team slowly realized that she was approaching these cases from another angle, one that proved to be highly valuable at important points.

_y/n_ settled next to Emily at her desk and pulled her go bag from underneath the space. The sound of Aaron’s door closing caught _y/n_’s attention. He was wearing that maroon tie she liked so much. She hadn’t told him that yet, it felt too trivial, but she really liked that tie on him. Aaron caught her eye for a moment and there was a small twinge in her chest before they quickly, discreetly looked away. Nobody knew that they were spending time together outside of work. They had to be discreet because it was mixing work and pleasure and in a place like the FBI, that didn’t just fly. _y/n_ was sure Hotch knew everything about the rules and consequences of breaking those rules, but he hadn’t filled her in on those details. She had looked at the employee handbook but it was all legalese and it hurt her head. If she and Aaron did become more serious, and committed, she would ask him to interpret the confusing language for her. Thankfully they weren’t having a hard time keeping their work and private lives separate, yet.

Aaron felt the normal thrill of heading out to a new case. He considered the word, ‘thrill,’ thinking it wasn’t the perfect synonym for the arrival of yet another slew of murders, but it certainly wasn’t excitement either. Excitement meant something happy, something to look forward to. ‘Energized,’ his brain offered. Mentally Aaron nodded along, That would work for now. He had to be energized for this work. He wasn’t a young man anymore but there had to be a strength and calmness with him. He was the leader and even with Rossi being on the team for over a year, his agents still looked to him to make this all work. His eyes found _y/n_’s and there he found the look of thrill. This was still so new to her, even though she had been on the team for a while. He looked away as always, not giving into any desires that lingered when he was paying attention to his newest agent. He was grateful that _y/n_ was professional and polite and had the utmost decorum even though outside of work they hadn’t been entirely professional. The thought of their last non-work meeting at her apartment and her heavy breathing and soft sounds on her lips, as he worked over her clothed body with his hands brought a momentatry flush to his face.

Hotch sobered as quickly as he had flushed as Dave came up beside him and said, “You ready for this?” Aaron looked over to his friend and bluntly replied, “As ready as possible, but it's still never easy.” Rossi nodded along as they both moved down the stairs and toward the parking lot. This line of work wasn’t easy. Aaron knew that every time his team left for a new case there was a chance that someone might get hurt, or even killed and no matter how good everyone was at their job, that possibility still worried him. _y/n_’s face popped up in his mind as he found his seat in the jet and he pushed away the thought. His relationship with her had shifted to something he wasn’t entirely sure he had under control. They hadn’t made anything official and hadn’t even said, “I love you,” yet. However, Hotch wasn’t a man who moved quickly, but as long as he and _y/n_ had an open, honest conversation about where their feelings were headed, he wasn’t going to fight it. He had fought so many things, and people in his life that he didn’t have the desire to fight this too. Being around _y/n_ felt good. It felt safe and he rarely got that in his life, so he was embracing it where he could. As JJ went over more of the facts and details regarding the case involving a serial killer wreaking havoc in the tiny town in Ohio, he shifted his full attention to what his media liaison was saying.

As the jet landed on the tiny airstrip, everyone got out and into the waiting SUVs. Aaron drove with Emily, Spencer, and JJ while Rossi took _y/n_ and Derek. Spencer and Emily were discussing the need to work well with the law enforcement in the town as they were likely ingratiate into all aspects of the community. Meanwhile, JJ was preparing a statement for the media. In the other car, Derek turned from the front seat and asked, “So what are we thinking in terms of prior knowledge _y/n_?” _y/n_ turned her gaze to Morgan’s and said, “Well strangulation is such a common signature that we’re going to have to look for something more specific to get traction here. The photos do look like this guy is strangling people from behind and the unsubs killing fit men someone who doesn't want to face what they’re really doing? Or it could be that they despise their victims so much they can’t stand to see them again, even while killing them?” Morgan nodded and elaborated on the idea that the killer might see these men as a competition of some kind. As having something the unsub lacked. This information allowed those in Rossi’s car to start to form a physical profile of the unsub. As the team made it to the small local police station, everyone got out of the parked cars and a man who appeared to be in his fifties who was balding badly came out to greet them.

Aaron stepped forward and extended his hand. The man took it and gave it a firm shake, saying, “I’m Officer Bronson. Thank you so much for you folks from coming out here.” Aaron nodded, replying, “I’m Agent, Hotchner and this is my team.” He indicated to the team, quickly introducing them. First, he gestured to JJ stating, “This is our media liaison, Jennifer Jareau.” JJ stepped forward and took the man’s slightly sweaty hand. Aaron moved through the rest of the team quickly, wanting to get the introductions over with and the real work started. He motioned to each of his agents saying, “This is David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, _y/n_ _l/n_, and Emily Prentiss.” Each member nodded as Hotch said their name and Officer Bronson replied, Well welcome to Walnut Creek. I wish it was under happier circumstances. I’ll let you all get inside and out of this heat.” As the team moved into the small building, Aaron asked, “Is there a space where we can get organized and look at the evidence more easily?” Bronson nodded and led the team to a table at the back of a very small station and said, “Sorry it’s nothing fancy. I’ll have someone clean off the files and stuff off for you.” The man turned and semi-shouted, “Anderson, can you clear your junk off this table?” Anderson, a thirty-something-year-old moved around the team and got his things saying, “Sorry Chief.” Bronson looked to Aaron, almost for approval, and asked, “Will this do?” To which Hotch simply replied, “It’s fine.”

As the team settled a little _y/n_ looked at JJ with a ‘Are you kidding me?’ expression and then looked at Anderson who was placing his numerous files on another table. JJ rolled her eyes in return. The fact that one of the officers had open files possibly containing sensitive or private data out on a table for anyone in the room to see displayed the station's lack of professionalism. The team worked up a preliminary profile and Aaron told Officer Bronson that they were ready to address his unit. Bronson called his team to the side of the room and as the officers sat down, Aaron moved forward saying, “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for your attention. My name is Aaron Hotchner and I’m the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. This is my team, and we’re here to coordinate with you to try and stop these killings as quickly as possible. If you have any questions please hold them to the end. We appreciate you working with us, and now I’ll let Derek Morgan deliver our preliminary profile to you.”

Aaron stepped aside to let Derek deliver the profile. Hotch had asked Morgan to deliver the profile because something about the officers sitting in front of him didn’t seem like they were convinced that they needed the team's help. Given the fact that Derek was the closest in age to many of the officers, and he could be just as intense as Aaron if he wanted, Aaron thought that the men would respect Morgan over someone like himself or Rossi. It helped that Morgan also looked more like the policemen now listening with unveiled trepidation about the profile. This was another part of the job that Aaron disliked. He not only had to profile the unsub but the law enforcement officers as well. His team and the local authorities had to work together due to bureaucratic rulings and sometimes the officers didn’t want the Bau's assistance. The idea that the team was ‘taking over’ or ‘standing on their turf’ often caused conflict. Aaron always tried to nip this conflict early. His team didn’t need to worry about that and quite frankly they all had better things to do. Aaron looked at the ten seated men, as he listened to Morgan. Most of the officers were looking at Derek, but one or two were consistently looking over at JJ, _y/n_, and Emily. Aaron clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to sigh. He could tell whatever conflict his team and this police unit were going to have would be an uphill battle.

Hotch noticed when the men he was working with paid a little too much attention to members of his team. Hotch couldn’t deny that _y/n_, JJ, and Emily were all beautiful, intelligent, and capable and that combination was attractive. However, that did not give these men a right to act lewdly or leer at them. As Derek wrapped up the profile, he fielded a few questions from the assembled crowd. With that, Chief Bronson dismissed his men. Aaron gathered the team and they broke into smaller units to look for any clues that might bring them closer to finding the unsub. Aaron, Spencer, and _y/n_ were headed to the high school which was the scene of the latest killing. Rossi and Morgan were headed to the hospital to see the bodies of the victims to determine if there was more to the signature than just strangulation. Lastly, JJ and Emily were going to go to the press to provide a statement for the townspeople who were panicking and holding up the police phones making those who really needed help unable to get it.

In the evening as the team regrouped at the station, there was the kind of frantic energy they got once the case had really started. _y/n_ had lots of thoughts and was ready to see what the rest of the team had discovered. She knew she wasn’t going to see much sleep tonight, so she moved to the break room where the coffee pots normally were in police stations. As she approached the room she began to overhear a conversation going on inside. The snippet she heard was, “So who are you picking, Blondie, Brunette, or _y/h/c_?” There was a laugh before the other man in the room began saying, “What about all three?” There was more laughter at this and as the unseen man began saying, “But if you’re really making me choose…” _y/n_ walked quickly away before she could hear the answer. As she moved back to the team she thought, ‘These guys really have no standards.’ She felt slightly repulsed but did her best to ignore the feeling. As she stepped back to the table, and Aaron looked over at her, he could see that something was wrong. A few minutes later, when he was finished listening to Spencer’s geographic profile, Hotch moved to stand next to _y/n_. In a quiet volume, he asked, “Is everything okay?” _y/n_ looked up at him. His expression had the smallest hint of worry, and she alleviated that fear by saying, “Yeah. It’s nothing.” Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Tell me more about what you were saying to Derek about the point of impact, we might be able to get a height on the unsub with that information.” _y/n_ nodded and jumped into the conversation. Aaron could tell that something was off about _y/n_, but he wouldn’t push it. He trusted her to handle things herself and if she needed to, he knew she would ask for help.

The night wore on and eventually, the team moved to the tiny hotel the town had. There were barely enough rooms to fit them all. The town was very cozy and picturesque in its quaintness. _y/n_ thought about this as she drove Derek and Rossi to the hotel. She assumed it was a nice place to grow up in. To grow old in. _y/n_ wasn’t sure where these thoughts were coming from, but she chalked it up to tiredness and the case. Because for seven men there would be no growing old here or anywhere. The sadness of that realization only made her want to solve this case more badly. There were always a lot of emotions tied to the cases they worked on, and to protect herself, she had to try and stay disconnected from the pain and hurt that the victims and the victims' families went through. But she couldn’t always hold back those emotions and now was one of those times. As everyone settled in for the night and said their goodnights, which just meant ‘I’ll be sitting up in bed reading over the same evidence as you one door down,’ Aaron walked over to _y/n_ and said, “Goodnight, _y/n_.” His brief interaction with her at the precinct from earlier in the day flashed in his head. He didn’t like it when she looked upset. It made him feel nervous, so he asked, “You’d tell me if something was wrong? Wouldn’t you?” The question came out of left field and _y/n_ blinked for a moment, not really knowing why Aaron was asking. At this point, she had sort of forgotten the rude comments being made by the officers, so she replied, “Of course I would Aaron.” At her response, Hotch infinitesimally relaxed and the two headed for the elevator together. Rossi had seen the interaction between them. He didn’t hear what they said, or that _y/n_ had used Hotch’s first name, but he couldn't help but feel that something was there between the two agents. Perhaps it was the way Aaron leaned down a little bit to be in earshot, or the way _y/n_ looked at his friend like nothing else around her mattered. David wouldn’t say anything yet, but he was sure he was going to start paying more attention to Aaron. Rossi wasn’t against whatever was happening between his coworkers. Aaron had had a rough few months, and he thought the man deserved some comfort.

In the morning most of the team was out hunting leads. Derek and _y/n_ had stayed back for a minute because _y/n_ thought she had seen something new in the geographical profile. They would both head to the sight of the first body once she had looked at the board again. _y/n_ was standing, looking at the map, engrossed in the pins Spencer had pushed into all the significant locations thus far. She just barely acknowledged when Morgan said he was going to use the men’s room. She also didn’t notice when one of the officers came up behind her. The man extended a hand and grabbed her ass giving it a squeeze. At the unwanted touch, _y/n_ whipped around saying, “Hey!” The phrases echoed around the nearly empty office. She looked at the man, clocking his name on his badge, Monroe. There was a moment of silence before _y/n_ incredulously said, “What was that?” Monroe gave a laugh and said, “Sorry, babe. I thought you were interested.” With that, the officer quickly left, as he noticed Derek coming back from the bathroom. Monroe nearly brushed shoulders with Morgan as they both tried to fit through the door at the same time.

When Derek got into the room, he noticed that something was off about _y/n_. She was standing still with a look of shock and disgust on her face. _y/n_ tried to fix her facial features back to normal, but Morgan had seen and quickly strode into the room next to her. Derek looked her over quickly and asked, “_y/n_, what’s wrong?” _y/n_ looked to the floor for a second, biting the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t really believe what had just happened. For a moment she thought about lying but knew that Morgan would keep asking until she gave in. She sighed and looked up at Morgan’s worried face, saying, “That guy just groped me.” At hearing this, Morgan turned on his heel, but Officer Monroe was halfway out the door with Officer Anderson. They were both laughing at some unheard joke. It took everything in Derek to not go over to the two men and give Monroe an unadulterated piece of his mind. However, he knew that wasn’t his place really. And he wanted to make sure _y/n_ was okay. He turned back to _y/n_ and asked, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” _y/n_ nodded her head no, saying, “No. I was just shocked, I guess.” Morgan nodded along and said, “It shouldn’t have happened, period. You need to tell Hotch.” _y/n_’s widened at the suggestion. It made sense of course. Issues like this were under his purview, but for some reason telling him about this made her hesitate. Before she could think about it too much Morgan repeated himself saying, “Hotch would want to know.” _y/n_ put her palms up and said, “Fine, fine. I’ll tell him when he gets back.” Morgan gave her a look that made her say, “I promise I’ll tell him.” After a second of picturing that uncomfortable forthcoming conversation _y/n_ said, “He’s gonna be so mad.” Derek could understand what _y/n_ was saying but noted, “Maybe, but not at _y/n_.” There was another awkward silence before Derek finally said, “Do you need a few minutes, or would you like to head out?” Desperate for a distraction _y/n_, almost too quickly replied, “No. let’s go.”

At the supermarket where the first victim had been found. Morgan and _y/n_ took notes and got the security footage. It seems like they had a real lead by finding the license plate of the van that had dumped the deceased man in the alleyway near the store's load bay. However, the footage was too grainy to make out. After finishing watching the video, _y/n_ moved to call Garcia and see if she could enhance the video quality while Derek asked the security guard who had found the victim in the morning some questions. When she wrapped up her call with Garcia, _y/n_ briefly slumped against the outside wall; closing her eyes. She tried to think about why talking to Hotch about what had happened with Monroe was bothering her so much. She knew that Derek was right. Hotch wouldn’t be mad at her, at all. Maybe it was a feeling of embarrassment? _y/n_’s logical side of her brain said that she didn’t need to be embarrassed. She hadn’t groped anyone, but the feeling persisted. Maybe because talking about the incident meant being vulnerable in front of Aaron which was all fine and good when they were alone in her apartment. But having to do so at work was entirely different. _y/n_ let out a breath deciding to push all her feelings back for a moment. She would deal with it later. For now, she moved back inside the rendezvous with Morgan.

‘Later’ came as it always did. It was around five o’clock and the whole team was reconvening at the station. As the SUVs arrived one by one in the parking lot, everyone got out. _y/n_ looked over the team. They all looked a little tired, but when didn’t they on a case? _y/n_ felt the fatigue pull at her, but she knew she would find a second wind once she heard what everyone else had found out. She knew this unsub was here lurking in this little town, ready to kill again. She looked over to Aaron who was speaking to Emily about something. _y/n_ desperately wanted coffee and she walked toward the front door as she got close, Officer Monroe walked out the door. His badge was off and it was clear that he was headed home for the day. _y/n_ wondered if the man had a wife? Kids? The idea of it only made her more disgusted. As they neared each other she refused to make room for him on the sidewalk. She’d make him move aside for her. She wasn’t, however, going to look at him. _y/n_ planted her gaze on the sidewalk. Much like Monroe’s unwanted touch that morning, she didn’t expect to walk into him full force. When she turned her face to the man he said, “Hey, watch where you’re going, sweetheart.” _y/n_ could see that Monroe was actually enjoying this and she replied, “You ran into me!” Monroe smiled at seeing this woman like this -- uncomfortable. He had enjoyed the rush of her skin under his hands, and now he hoped for a repeat performance. Hardly thinking that there were others looking on, he quickly and forcefully placed a hand on her navel and then brushed downward. _y/n_ stood stock still as this happened because she thought that it couldn’t possibly be happening. Not here in public, in broad daylight, in front of the whole team? It just couldn’t be happening.

Aaron was chatting with Emily about the profile as he looked over the team to see how they were doing. As he looked at Morgan, and Morgan returned his gaze with a facial expression that said, ‘We need to talk.’ Aaron gave the man a nod and Morgan looked over to_y/n_ who was walking forward the precinct. Her shoulders seemed pulled tight under her shirt but in a way that hid that she was trying to hide her stress. He watched as she walked into one of the police officers from yesterday who had been overly enthused by _y/n_, Prentiss, and JJ’s presence. Aaron could barely hear the brief conversation between the two and as the word, “Sweetheart,” was thrown out, Aaron stiffened. And then it happened. He couldn’t fully see where or how far down the officer’s hand had landed because _y/n_ was blocking his view, but Aaron observed _y/n_ stiffen and that told him all he needed to know.

Before _y/n_ could find her voice and tell Monroe to ‘get the fuck off of her,’ Aaron’s clear sharp voice addressed the officer like a whip. Like a wound aimed at the man that dared to touch _y/n_. Aaron was over to _y/n_ in an instant. He placed a hand on her shoulder, firmly but gently pulling her frozen body back and behind him. Aaron towered over Monroe, and he felt his blood boil. Aaron let a harsh breath out and said, “If you value your job, and your pension you will get your hand Off. My. Agent.” Aaron highlighted each word that evinced his anger. Behind him, _y/n_ felt a wave of relief from being pulled out of that situation. Quickly Spencer and Emily were pulling _y/n_ farther away from the scene, but she could distinctly hear Hotch say, “Get in your car and leave. Now.” Derek watched as Monroe slinked away to his car looking defeated and small. Spencer and Emily walked with _y/n_ into the precinct, asking if she was okay, and the team as a whole huddled around her to make sure she was really alright. When she had reassured them, everyone except for Hotch moved away from _y/n_. Aaron placed a hand on her forearm and led her to a chair. She sat and let the exhaustion of the case, disgust at Monroe's actions, and the feeling of his hand on her body overwhelm her for a moment. A shiver ran through her. Aaron knelt down on one knee to be more on eye level with _y/n_. If his words before had meant to intimidate and accuse, his tone now was one of reassurance and comfort. Aaron spoke professionally but with a hint of something more that spoke to their relationship outside of work. He asked, “Be honest with me. Are you okay? Are you hurt or bruised?” Aaron’s voice helped still her thoughts and she assessed her body before saying softly, “I’m not in any pain.” She didn’t answer his first question because she didn’t particularly feel alright, but she knew she was safe now. Especially now that she was with Aaron. Aaron registered this and asked, “Has this happened before while we’ve been here?” _y/n_swallowed and replied, “Yes, this morning right after everyone headed out for the day.” Aaron gave her that look that said, “Elaborate please.” _y/n_bit her bottom lip, wondering how to phrase what had happened. Not finding any more polite or dignified terms, she said, “Morgan had stepped out and I was focusing on the bulletin board and he, um, came up behind me and grabbed my ass.” She could see the anger, the controlled rage fire through him again and she wanted to say something to reassure Aaron that she really was alright, even if she wasn’t. However, he stopped her as the Chief of Police entered the building. Aaron turned his head back to _y/n_ and said, “Excuse me for a moment.” Then with a tone of reassurance, he said, “This conversation isn’t over.” Hotch stood and looked at Emily who understood that he was asking her to sit with _y/n_. Prentiss moved to sit next to _y/n_. When this was done, Aaron turned his attention to the officer who had just entered the building and said, “Chief Bronson, your office, now.” His intonation left no room for questions or delays and the older man nodded and walked into his cluttered office with Aaron on his heels. Once the door was closed Hotch turned and he felt the anger bubble up to the surface again. As Bronson asked, “What seems to be the problem?” The man sounded nervous.

From outside the glass-walled room, the team listened as their leader said, “One of your officers just assaulted a member of my team.” Bronson’s response was inaudible, but Hotch’s reply of, “What do I mean?” Could be heard clearly. At this, the team flinched, knowing that the man inside with Hotch was about to have his soul ripped from his body and handed back to him. Everyone listened as Aaron said, “What I mean is that just a few minutes ago, Officer Monroe had his hands on a member of my team in a private area. And that wasn’t the first time this has happened today.” Aaron took a steadying breath before continuing, “As much as I respect law enforcement and what you do, I’m highly concerned about what’s just happened. If someone under your authority thought they had the right to touch a federal agent, I fear what’s happening with normal residents of this town.” Bronson stumbled to find words and said, “Well I certainly don’t condone that behavior.” Aaron let out a harsh scoff, not truly believing the man saying, “Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change the fact that your officer felt entitled to do what he did. And I don’t think Monroe thought he was going to face any consequences, and I can only imagine that he assumed that because you’ve let him get away with behavior like this before.” After this, Hotch’s voice dropped lower so the team outside could no longer hear him. Derek said, “Well I think Officer Bronson has had his ‘Come to Jesus’ moment.’” That comment actually made _y/n_ laugh and she felt a little better now that she could laugh at this whole situation. Hearing Aaron stand up for her like that made her feel warm inside in a comforted sort of way. Aaron finished unloading with the warning, “You’ll be receiving an ethics complaint from the Department of Justice as soon as I’m back in Quantico. You might consider cutting your losses before then.” With that, he got up and left the office.

Later that evening in _y/n_’s room, she and Aaron sat. She was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Aaron who was in the only chair in the lamplit space. This was to be a continuation of their conversation from before. _y/n_ looked over at Hotch and saw how perturbed he looked. She felt a tug in her chest seeing him like this. He already had to deal with so much and now there was this. She started the conversation in an attempt to soothe this new hurt by saying, “Hotch, it really wasn’t that bad. He didn’t hurt me, it was just unexpected.” At her words, he dipped his head and said, “It never should have happened, _y/n_. He touched you without your consent twice, and I couldn’t prevent it.” _y/n_frowned and felt that Aaron had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with this job. She said, “It’s not your fault, Aaron. I know you see how they look at JJ, Em, and I.” Hotch lifted his head and placed a warm hand on her knee saying, “Of course I see, and it bothers me more than I can say. Having these men look at you is bad enough, but when one of them starts to act on those feelings, it's unconscionable.” _y/n_ saw that she wasn’t going to make him feel any better, so instead she put her hand over his and gently rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. She said, “I’m going to be okay Aaron. And if I’m not, I’ll let you know. Thank you for looking out for me.” Hotch let out a breath at her touch and words, simply replying, “Always, _y/n_. I’ll always be here.” He wanted to lean in and press his body to hers. To cover her from unwanted attention and hands. But there was still a case, and she looked tired, but he promised himself when this was solved that he would be spending a considerable amount of time either on his or her couch with _y/n_ on his lap and his arms settled around her; as long as that was something she wanted of course.

The case wrapped up a few days later and the team headed home. On the plane ride back, _y/n_ crashed on the couch facing Spencer. Emily, Rossi, and Morgan watched with a small amount of surprise, then a soft understanding as Hotch quietly took off his blazer and placed it over her curled, sleeping body. And when Rossi left his office and walked toward his car he stopped and made sure Aaron and _y/n_ didn’t see him as Hotch held _y/n_ and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As Hotch wrapped her in his arms, _y/n_’s hands moved to his chest, and after everything that had happened on top of the case, at least she knew that she was always safe with him.

#criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #reader x hotch #angry hotch #protective hotch #derek morgan #emily prentiss #hotch blurb #comfort fic #hotch angst #i made this for you #spencer ried

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bless-my-demons · 8 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Fourteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None… but the angst train has left the station

Notes: If you’re one of the sweet angels that left a comment on the taglist form, it makes my heart so happy - thank you! Please forgive me for the end of this chapter

Word Count: 1860

Series Masterlist

Reader

My entire summer was spent with the Cullens. Surprisingly enough, my mother didn’t protest it one bit, something about finally making friends. I was mostly monopolized by Jasper, but Alice had her fair share of stealing me away for girl’s nights with Esme and Rosalie.

Rosalie, talk about a tough nut to crack. I think at this point I’ve finally crested the mountain of hatred she feels towards her brothers’ “mortal liabilities” and I’m solidly in tolerable territory. She doesn’t outwardly mention her distaste anymore or avoid me like the plague, which I consider a definite win. I think Emmett is partially what wore her down besides Jasper’s lack of give a damn towards his sister’s opinions.

Befriending Alice has been as easy as breathing, she’s always there and might as well have Edward’s supernatural power of mind reading. I can tell her life has been lonely in the way she attaches herself to Bella and I, Rose isn’t the most social female and Esme is more of a mother figure than best friend. I’m grateful for her nonetheless, I’m not exactly flooded with friends myself - nor is whatever this thing is with Jasper an appropriate topic of conversation for anyone outside of this immediate circle.

Emmett has managed to become the older brother I wish I had and he takes that role incredibly serious for someone that’s always the comedic relief. Over the course of the last couple of months, I’ve figured out that he’s a big hugger, and a very good one at that. I’ve also noticed that he’s become my rock in a way - never backing down from a challenge, always hyping me up, and never passing judgement.

I still haven’t cracked the code for Edward. He’s quiet and shut off from the rest, not one for casual conversation or wasting time. And when he isn’t with Bella - well that’s wasting time in the worst way. Majority of our interactions are spent in comfortable silence, Jasper tells me it’s because I’m like a magnet in the way that my energy is calmer than most.

I like to think Jasper and I don’t make his family quite as nauseous as Edward and Bella do, but I know we have our moments… like his sisters insisting we sit apart for movie night because he most definitely cannot keep his hands to himself. The smug grin he had on his face along with his hands raised in surrender as his sisters berated him still makes me blush, damn him and his stupidly attractive smirk.

All summer long I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to realize that I’m human and he’s immortal, that I’m nothing in the grand scheme that is his life. It’s partially my fault for chickening out every time the topic of us rolls around, but my anxiety tends to get the better of me. God he is a patient man though, never pushing me and always in-tune to my feelings.

I’m absolutely head over heels for him but I can’t quite force those three little words of I love you past my lips. The confession simultaneously on the tip of my tongue and clogging up my throat.

Although he would disagree heavily, Jasper Hale is not a hard man to fall in love with. He struggles with his control from time to time, but when it comes to me - I can tell he’s different. He’s quiet in a way that’s patient and at-ease, instead of the closed-off way he was initially. His smile is softer around the edges, less forced than when he was trying for the sake of his adopted mother. His touch is instinct now, no longer robotic or unsure, but softer. He’s quicker to laugh, quicker to whisper sweet-nothings in my ear that make my cheeks hurt from smiling, quicker to reach for my hand when he needs an anchor.

I’ve never been more grateful for a split second of clumsiness on my first day at a new school.

• September 13th, 2005 • Forks HS •

Jasper

“A birthday party at your house?” Y/n asks, walking beside me before first period.

“Yes darlin’, I’m afraid my sister requires your attendance.” I continue to lead Y/n down the emptying hallway with a gentle hand on her back.

“I suppose I can spare you her wrath, but only if you pick me up tonight.” She glances up at me with a mischievous smile.

“Speak of the devil…” I mutter quietly while taking a deep breath, bracing myself for the quick footsteps approaching.

“I heard that!” Alice smacks the arm not around my girl. “I need your help.”

“Help with what?” Y/n asks quietly with a wrinkle in her beautiful brow, but I shake my head already knowing what my sister needs.

As Y/n and I stop at the bottom of the stairs, Edward and Isabella approach our small group as Alice vaults over the stair railing and skips forward in excitement, a neatly wrapped gift in her hands.

“Bella! Happy-”

“Shhh!” Bella stops her, the panic and embarrassment flooding from her almost drawing a laugh from me.

“-Birthday.” She finishes, quieter this time.

Bella flashes an exasperated look over Alice’s shoulder and I respond with a calming nod.

“Alice, didn’t I say no gifts?”

“You did, I didn’t.” My sister smarts back. “I’ve already seen you open it and guess what? You love it!”

Bella scoffs exasperated, but Alice interrupts her before she can object.

“You’re going to wear it tonight, our place.” At Bella’s hesitation she adds, “C’mon, please? It’ll be fun!”

Taking my que, I pull away her hesitation and replace it with a touch of acquiescence, gently in an effort to be inconspicuous.

“Okay, alright.” Powerless to my emotional regulation.

I notice a smile quirk the corner of Edward’s mouth, my brother exuding amusement - humored by our efforts to persuade his girlfriend.

A squeal of happiness leaks from my sister, “Great! I’ll see you at seven!” Spinning in our direction to make a quick getaway, we’re stopped by Bella.

“Jasper! No fair with the mood control thing.”

“Sorry Bella, Happy-“ but I let the sentiment die on my tongue at her exasperated look. “Never mind.”

Pushing my girl and gripping Alice by the elbow, I usher them away and towards class. I may be immortal, but a smart man knows when to let the women in his life win.

• September 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Waiting upstairs per Alice’s request to keep Bella company while she finished the final touches on decorations, roping my… Jasper into helping. Wondering over to where Edward and Bella are discussing a painting, I squint at who it contains.

“Is that, Carlisle?” Bella points out.

“Yeah, he lived with them for a few decades. He described them as refined, no respect for humans of course, but respect for the arts and the sciences at least.” He pauses, glancing between us before returning his eyes to the painting. “And the law, above all, the law.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the eerie way he explains the ancient vampires.

“Vampires have laws?” Bella’s tone takes on a rhetorical tone, but Edward answers nonetheless.

“Not very many. And only one that’s regularly enforced.”

“What is it?” The question comes from both of us this time.

“That we keep the existence of our kind a secret. We don’t make spectacles of ourselves. And we don’t kill conspicuously.” A sliver of panic runs through me as Jasper’s past flashes through my mind. “Unless of course you want to die.”

“You gotta stop talking about that. I can’t even think of someone hurting you.” Bella quietly and assertively tells him.

“Bella, the only thing that can hurt me is you.” As Edward turns to her, I gravitate towards the door to give them privacy. “I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.”

“That’s not true.”

“Victoria,” My mind immediately flashes back to the ballet studio, “She’ll come for me one day, Alice will see when she decides and we’ll be ready.”

Why had I not thought of that? Of course she’d come for us, the Cullens killed James because of us.

“I can protect you, if you change me.”

I try to contain my gasp, trying not to be obvious that I overheard her request. Her request to be changed.

“It’s time! It’s time, it's time, it's time!” Alice bounds into the room and I slip down the stairs before she can tug Bella away from Edward.

Jasper with eyebrows furrowed smooths a hand across my jaw to cradle my head as I step into his arms, sensing my clashing emotions. Alice interrupts him before he could ask why by bounding down the stairs and joining us.

I spin around to lean my back against Jasper as Edward leads Bella down to the living room, Carlisle and Esme are the first to greet them.

“Sorry about all this, we tried to reign Alice in.” Carlisle jokingly apologizes.

“Like that’s even possible.” Bringing Bella in for a hug with a sweet smile, “Happy birthday, Bella.”

Jasper’s hands find my hips and squeeze, I can tell he won’t let earlier go so easily, he cares too much for that.

Alice blindsides Bella with a flash of a camera, “Found it in your bag, mind?” She asks after snapping a picture of her and Edward together.

Emmett slides past us with a mischievous glint in his expression, causing Jasper to groan as his brother slides up next to Edward.

Nudging him, “Dating an older woman, hot.” Emmett teases.

Edward elbows him right back sharply to shut him up and I wince at the force.

“What?” He tries to play it off with innocence, but we all know he’s rather full of shit and I crack a smile at his antics.

Rosalie chooses then to rip the bandaid off and give Bella the first present of the evening, a small silver package. “A necklace. Alice picked it out.” Short and to the point, she steps away to rejoin Emmett causing Bella to smile.

Meeting our eyes across the room, she waves a greeting to Jasper that he returns silently.

Alice grabs a medium-sized present with a bow, “This one’s from Emmett.”

Bella shakes the suspiciously empty box and I try to cover my laugh at the look of confusion on her face.

“Already installed it in your truck.” He’s vibrating like an excited puppy, “Finally a decent sound system for that piece of crap-”

“Hey, don’t hate the truck.”

“Open Esme and Carlisle’s!” Alice thrusts the envelope into her hands.

“Just something to brighten your day.” Carlisle tells her as Esme steps forward.

“You’ve been looking kind of pale lately.” Esme hints with a smile.

Struggling to open the envelope, she finally tears through the paper.

But it isn’t the only thing that tears.

The droplet of blood that drips down her finger halts the breath in my lungs and the world feels as though it’s standing still. That is, until a thin arm wraps around my waist and my vision blurs.

Teaser

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#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale #female reader insert #jasper hale x female!reader

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rougepancake · 11 months

Note

May I request shinobu with prompt 98?

YES YES YES (I’m going feral)

Prompt 98 - “if we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.”

Ft. Shinobu Kocho

Warnings: incredibly suggestive but also really short. Just a drabble 😩. Mentions of oral sex, horny Shinobu (I love Shinobu can you tell?) MDNI please or I will block you. Not proofread.

Lovely. You were walking around a village together, as you had been sent out here to protect the large orphanage that was stationed there, and Shinobu had begun to grow impatient.

Granted, it had been quite some time since the two of you have had some alone time together. But still. You were working on taking care of children and slaying demons right now. Could she not wait?

“You know. I love the way you deal with these children.” She whispered to you, smirking at your reaction.

“I’m sure you do.” You sighed and ignored her attempts to woo you.

“You’d make a wonderful parent.”

“Thank you Kocho.” You said sarcastically and scanned the streets around you. Thankfully, there was no sign of trouble just yet.

“You know.” She paused, and you could practically feel the smirk that was growing on her lips. “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d definitely have my face between your legs.”

“Kocho!” You blushed and continued to patrol, opting to tune her out so you could stay focused.

“Let’s spend the night together, Y/n.” She caught up to you and placed an arm on your shoulder, smiling up at you.

Could she not wait? Could she be any louder? There were so many questions, but you didn’t have time to consider every possibility.

You just knew that once this mission was done, you were in for it. Might as well get a good night’s sleep while you can, cause you aren’t gonna be sleeping for a long time now.

#demon slayer #shinobu smut #shinobu kocho #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny x y/n #kny smut #kny x gender neutral reader #shinobu kocho x reader #demon slayer kocho #kocho shinobu x reader #kny kocho #kocho shinobu

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jamilelucato · 2 years

Note

smut henry creel please?

A Match Made in Lab

show: Stranger Things (season 4 spoilers)

pairing: 002!reader x Henry Creel/Vecna/001

summary: when you and Henry escape on the 4th of July and things happen to be a bit... romantic.

a/n: maybe this isn't as smut as you expected, sorry, but it is what I can do as I am a very shy person (I swear!); for those of you who are asking for this fic part 2 stay tuned because it's coming!

tag list: @perssepeony

You were friends. After all, there wasn't much choice for a friendship when you grew up in a lab with only a boy your age and a bunch of scientists. Yes, yes, they hid your existence and gave your number to somebody else, but they did that later because in 1964 Henry Creel was number 001 and you, [y/n] [y/l/n], were number 002, the only subjects in Hawkins National Laboratory.

“So,” he whispered when you two were together doing some recreational activities in the room that later on would be painted and called “the rainbow room”. “I have a plan.”

You looked around, but the guards were too far, close to the doors and the cameras weren't able to catch sound back then.

“Tell me more.”

He smiled beautifully. His hair was growing back again, slower than yours because they kept trying to shave him every month. But you, after four years of tests and buzzcuts, they decided to allow you some growth, at least to the shoulders. Henry had heard some of the female scientists claiming for you, something about “allowing a girl her femininity”.

There was no need for femininity in the lab, you thought but there was no use in saying it.

“I think we can… through the vents,” he said, explaining a plan you two had been trying to achieve from the moment you realized you were allies and not enemies. The word he was not saying was “escape” because if anyone there heard it, you and Henry would be dead.

And so he kept the explanation going, but he only used chess metaphors, for it would be easier to hide the truth.

The next day, you went on as normal, being the perfect children for the doctors. The secret was that at midnight, when security was reduced and the scientists were home, you two would be escaping through a secret passageway Henry had found.

There were flaws to the plan of course. A security guard could not stop you — they were there for the outsiders mostly — but a late-night doctor could if they were fast enough to see you two. Besides, someone would enter your rooms at one a.m. and the alarm would be sounded. So, you two had to be fast all of the time. And the powers needed to be on point because they were your only weapon.

But all your worries didn't matter. Once Henry’s hands were holding yours, nothing could stop you and soon you were out. Out.

In the dark, sure, but still out.

“We did it,” you whispered, for you were still afraid.

Henry looked at you, focusing on your eyes and you felt your hand being squeezed.

But there wasn't much time for nice touches. He said he had used his mind powers to map out the territory, but he wasn't very bright at it, not as good as you, so it took you some time to grasp the reality surrounding and find the best way to civilisation.

“There,” he said, pointing at a gas station. “We'll need to get some clothes if we want to head to town.”

You agreed with him. The store had only one worker, so it was easy to knock him out and get what you two wanted. Henry found himself a white t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants while you got a black white-dotted dress just tight enough.

Once you had finished changing, you handed Henry your gown which he burned, so it could be left with no proof.

“The dress looks nice on you,” he said, looking you up and down. You felt your cheeks turn red. It was a weird feeling.

You had read about it, before the lab and even when in the lab. They allowed you some books, not any title — it had to be approved and “appropriate” — and not all but most of the readings mentioned love. In autobiographies, the scientists would always happily marry a pretty lady and in the fictional ones, the protagonists always had a romantic interest. It was love, they called it. Magical, unique and beautiful.

But when stuck at the lab it never felt like that could happen to you. Of course, Henry was there, and he cheered you up just enough to survive, but the place wasn't a romantic one. Besides, you feared he did not know what love was. He always mocked your readings and had no interest in them, and he lived in the outside world even less than you had. He got in the lab in 1959 and you in 1960.

He reached for your hand as you made your way out of the gas station and headed to Hawkins. It was a long walk but you two managed because of adrenaline, excitement and the chance to have real unsupervised conversations.

“Look,” you said, “the city looks bright for midnight.”

Henry looked straight ahead, seeing the town that suddenly appeared and it indeed looked rather lighter.

“Perhaps today is a festival?”

Your question remained unanswered until you two reached downtown, where the party was loud and full. You even felt undressed compared to all the men and women, fancily dressed.

“Fourth of July,” pointed out Henry, answering your question as he looked at the big flag being waved by a white man of large bones.

You knew when you were younger your parents used to celebrate it, but there was no memory of the happiness you were seeing (and suddenly feeling as well) around.

“Come on,” he tightened his grasp in your left hand, “let’s get some hotdogs before they stop selling them.”

“Henry,” you couldn’t help but smile. “We have no money.”

“No, but we have you,” he smiled too. “And who’s best at implementing memories in people’s minds?”

Again, your cheeks reddened.

“I mean, it’s not like I have competition,” you said, jokingly for he had been practising the arts of the mind as well but he was not half as good as you.

He pretended to be offended but laughed it off.

The night was like that: funny and silly moments of you two, while you watched the whole of Hawkins celebrations and sooner than you’d like, people were going back to their homes and most of the lights were out.

“We should get out of here now,” Henry said, getting up from the sidewalk where you two were sitting. “The lights are out and now we’re easily found.”

You stared down at your feet. You were so tired. After putting the guards to sleep and having to do so much walking, your legs hurt and so did your mind. You looked up again, back at Henry, with pity eyes.

“Can’t we find a place to stay? For the night?”

He wasn’t gonna say yes. It was dangerous and reckless. At that hour of almost dawn, the alarm was probably already on and people probably were hunting them down, he was sure. But he understood her point and he only wanted to make her happy.

Henry knew he didn’t deserve to get out of the lab and he was fine staying there, but you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve the life of a rat.

“Ok,” he sighed. “But it has to be a quick sleep. Four hours top.”

You agreed with a nod and grabbed his hand. You knew he would find a place for you to stay so you just let him do the job. He liked to use his powers, way more than you.

When the place was found, both of you had to settle down on a bed made of cardboard and some torn cloth, as it was the only thing available in the back of a practically abandoned factory.

You turned from side to side, unable to close your eyes. Even if the discomfort was great, it wasn’t the lack of a pillow that kept you awake.

It was him.

Henry was your best and only friend, so you guys used to hang out in the lab together, but everything looked different outside of it. There, on the cardboard bed, he was no longer 001 and you were no longer 002. Somehow, the dynamic seemed to be that of a boy and a girl, and at least your hormones seemed to be in full bloom.

You turned around to face him. Even though his eyes were closed, you knew he wasn’t sleeping. His back was against the weathered wall of the factory, and he was leaning his head forward. He looked like he was sleeping, but you were smarter than that.

“Henry?” you whispered.

He opened his eyes in your direction.

“Sleep, [y/n].”

You pressed your lips together and didn’t respond. But you didn’t sleep either.

“Just say it,” he said, sighing. “Say what you want to say, [y/n].”

“It’s actually something I wanna do,” you said, getting your back up from the floor. “I saw a couple doing it and… and I wanted to test it.”

“It’s not dancing, is it? I’m not going to dance right now,” Henry said, in a serious tone, but you knew he was joking.

You looked at him through your eyebrows, a look of compassion, but also of seduction, or at least, that’s how you felt when you faced him before doing what you wanted and feared.

Henry swallowed hard. Nothing in his body indicated that he knew what you were about to do—after all, he didn’t open his arms to wait for you—but perhaps something natural and instinctive asked him to stay alert. He looked at you, his brows furrowed and his lips slightly parted.

You took a deep breath before pushing yourself forward and touching your lips to his. You’ve never done this before, and perhaps you both never would’ve if you hadn’t escaped the lab.

It was just a brush of lips, an invitation. Then you pulled away, lowering your gaze to your lap. In yourself, a feeling of accomplishment but also of shame. What if he didn’t want that? What if it had been horrible for him?

“I don’t…” you started to say, but you didn’t have the chance to finish, because Henry’s lips had come back to meet yours; this time with more passion, more desire and more force.

He was pressing all of him against you, and from then on everything seemed to happen driven by lust and instinct. You didn’t really know what you were doing, as it was both his and your first time and you didn’t have access to much of that content.

It certainly shouldn’t look pretty to an outsider, but it was incredible to Henry, who felt a tightening of pleasure from his lips to his legs, almost electrifying. It’s better than good, you thought, as he nibbled on your lip, forcing you to open them. His tongue slowly entered your mouth, searching for your own tongue.

Needing some support, your hands reached for the back of Henry's neck, and stayed there, as your fingers tangled in his blond hair, which grew soft.

Both of your breaths were heavy and you both needed a few seconds apart to recover. Somehow, even though you were exasperated, you weren't tired — on the contrary, you were awake; your whole body and hair were.

The kisses and caresses continued, and you tested a kiss on each other’s neck, a caress beyond the bend of the waist. It was no longer cold, and suddenly you were overcome by the need to remove your clothes. The little skin that was in contact was insufficient for the size of the desire you both felt. You just knew you needed more.

“I need you to kiss me,” you told him breathlessly.

He smiled, pulling away from the crook of her neck. “I’m kissing you,” he said.

“Yes, but…” you sighed, mortified. “I need you to kiss me somewhere else.”

Henry looked up to meet his, and he frowned.

“A bit… lower,” you cleared your throat.

He smirked and obeyed, lowering his lips to your cleavage and after a few sighs of yours, he lowered even more. But he didn’t stop at your belly. Oh, no. Now that the dress was gone, he kissed you in a secret place, one that only the female doctors (and yourself) had seen before.

It just felt natural.

Your hand reached for his member, a part of him that your anatomy lessons at the lab were not enough to teach you the power it had. It was different from the few things they shared. It was hard and big, and well, very interesting to look at. You just wanted to touch and when you did it, Henry let out a groan.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but there was no anger in his voice. He seemed to be hanging by a thread.

“I’m touching you,” you answered, biting your lip.

“You don’t have to just because I’m kissing you,” he said.

Oh, you thought; maybe he did know more about “this” than you. Had he been reading different books? Were the scientists teaching him different things they were teaching you just because he was a boy?

Or had he learned that with his father, back when he was just 11 and a good family boy?

“I want to,” you said, hardening your grasp on his member.

He gulped. “Okay,” he let out, before closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

You didn’t do much, for you didn’t know how to do much.

At some point, you felt very open, both bodily and mentally, so you just asked him, “Henry? There’s more than this, isn’t there?”

He stared at you. “Yes.”

You liked him because he never lied to you.

“Can you show me?”

“I’ve never done it before,” he said. “I haven’t even kissed anyone before. You are my first, [y/n], you know that, right?”

You nodded.

“I can do it, but it might hurt you. It was what I learned in bio class anyway.”

You tilted your head. “So we had separated lessons.”

He smiled, with pity. he knew you liked to learn. “They said they weren’t classes for the ladies.”

You rolled your eyes, jokingly, and he giggled, hiding his face at the crook of your neck. You passed your hands through his hair.

“Now?” you suggested, in a whisper filled with desire.

His hands were everywhere, his fingers on your skin, his leg nudging its way between yours. He was pulling you closer, rolling you on top of him as he slid onto his back. His hands were on your bottom, drawing you so tightly against him that the proof of his desire burned itself into your skin. You gasped at the intimacy of it all, but you couldn’t do much because his lips were back kissing yours.

His mouth moved to your ear, then to your throat, and you arched beneath him as if you could somehow curve your body closer to his. There wasn’t a manual available, so you were kind of lost in what to do, but there was no way you could have remained motionless, no way you could have stopped your legs from wrapping around his. Whatever this was, building inside of you —this tension, this desire—it needed release, and you were starting to grow impatient for the moment. You wondered if it was the same for Henry.

He pushed forward, just an inch or so, but it felt like you were swallowing him whole. Henry’s hips began to move, unable to remain still when he was so obviously near to a climax. You looked like an angel beneath him, and every time you grasped and gasped, he felt closer to heaven, even if he did not deserve it. He finally let himself go and gave in to the overwhelming desire surging through his blood.

“You are beautiful, [y/n],” he whispered as if only then he recalled he could speak.

You smiled.

And then it came. A sound from your lips, sweeter than anything ever to touch his ears. You cried out his name as your entire body tensed in pleasure, and he came right after, for you two were such a match that it didn’t even need to be rehearsed.

“It didn’t hurt,” you said, suddenly overwhelmed. “It was good.”

He smiled.

“It was good for me too.”

For a minute there was silence, and neither of you spoke, for your chests were rising and falling too fast, and the bliss of being in each other’s arms was enough.

You didn’t even realise when you fell asleep until you woke up.

You were in his arms, but it was easy to get up. Your heart raced as it realised what was happening. There were lights everywhere, and even though there was nobody over you, you felt like you were surrounded.

“Henry,” you nudged him. “Henry, wake up.”

But he didn’t hear you.

“Henry, wake up!”

You pushed him.

“Come on, Henry now’s not the time.”

When you heard sounds — people, probably your doctors coming closer — you decided to use your powers on his mind, to see if you could wake him up from his subconscious.

“Wake up, Henry, please,” you prayed, but there was no reply. He wasn’t dead, you could feel his heart and breath, but for some reason, he could not wake up. Had he been using his powers to cover you two before he fell asleep? That could explain his tiredness and inability to wake.

Deciding he wasn’t gonna wake up, you tried to get him up with your own strength, but you were never much strong. Neither of you was. You tried, oh, God, you tried, but he didn’t wake and he didn’t move.

You grasped your dress. It was too late to come up with a plan. You could hear Dr Brenner loud and clear. if you escaped alone, maybe you could make it.“I love you, Henry,” you whispered in his mind and then you left, running for your life and your freedom.

#jamie campbell bower #henry creel #vecna #stranger things #stranger things fic #henry creel x reader #peter ballard x reader #Peter ballard #vecna x reader #fanfic #smut #Peter ballard smut #Henry creel smut #001 #001 x reader #number 001

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I absolutely love your writing!

So... today happens to be my birthday. Could I pretty please get something fluffy as a present?

Five days.

The villain had stayed five days at the hero’s apartment, recovering slowly with the help of their nemesis. It turned out that the hero wasn’t a terrible roommate, they were the exact opposite: doing the dishes seemed more like a hobby than a chore, cleaning the room and decorating the whole place neatly was one of their favourite activities.

Nearly motionless, the villain had watched them rearrange a bouquet of flowers, humming to themselves a content tune that would haunt the villain’s thoughts for the rest of the day. The hero was diligent and careful, making sure the colours in their home could coexist in harmony with every new element they found.

The villain tried to stay as quiet as possible most of the time, hoping the hero would forget about them eventually. Hoping they could turn invisible and be less of a burden. With all the mess they were causing, they didn’t fit into this picturesque world the hero tried to create.

But the hero didn’t forget. Due to their injuries, the villain slept a lot, being out by eight, getting pleasant twelve hours of rest. They were stationed on the comically huge couch, even though the hero had offered them their bed. However, healthy sleeping patterns were unknown to the hero who suffered from a little less than four hours a night. It explained the many naps the hero took on the couch, right next to the villain.

But no matter how many hours the hero slept, they always made sure to eat together with the villain. Every meal, regardless of their grogginess, they sat down next to their enemy and talked about their newest idea to help the city.

“Dunno why I’m telling you,” they said one day while having lunch, spaghetti filling their mouth, “but I really like this new project. Growing more plants in the city?! Love it.”

“Until there’s a villain who can control plants.” The hero’s tired eyes widened as they practically inhaled their lunch. Focus settled on the villain who was trying to eat as gracefully as possible. Once again, they were like a mirror that showed the exact opposite.

“Nonsense. No one can control plants,” they said, bolting the rest of their noodles and meatballs.

“Have seen one,” the villain answered calmly. Damn, the food wasn’t even bad.

“You’re kidding.”

“Am not.” The villain stared at the hero and their poor overworked soul. For days, they’d been rambling about projects and work and on top of that they managed to do the chores and nurse the villain. No wonder they were sleeping every second they allowed themselves to.

“I’ve seen one,” the villain said hastily, getting their thoughts back on track. “South America, somewhere. She’s very old though, so don’t expect her to take over the world.”

The hero’s plate was empty already.

“I didn’t know I could be jealous of some old lady. You travel lots?”

“When I’m not getting shot at, sure.” Something in the hero’s gaze softened, blurring the line between relaxed and hurt. Their eyes dropped to the ground, their shoulders tensed. Fuck. “I like getting shot when it’s you, though.”

What. Oh god, the villain wished they could sink into the ground. I like getting shot when it’s you, what a stupid thing to say. They felt the horrible blush creep up their neck, so they grabbed their tea and gulped it down.

Christ, why were conversations so hard to have?

The hero giggled nervously.

“Well, uh…”

“You need more sleep.” The villain’s face was burning, so they tried to deflect. “You always look tired and sleep throughout the day. What do you do at night?”

Getting the hero’s attention was easy, getting them to talk about important stuff wasn’t. Their nice projects were fun to listen to but when it came to the hero’s desires, to their morals and their longings, the villain didn’t get anything.

“It’s a long story, really,” the hero said. “Did you put that blanket on me yesterday?”

“Yeah, you almost rolled off the couch, too. Gave me nearly a heart attack,” the villain mumbled and it was true. It had made their heart skip for more than one beat. “You don’t have to leave that much space between us.”

“You sure?”

“I’d rather cuddle with you than have you fall off the couch.”

Now it was the hero’s turn to blush.

#FINE #OKAY GOOD THIS IS FINE #tchaikovsky i am begging you why WHY #happy belated birthday #!!!#sowwy uwu #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #fluff

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childes-w1fe · 16 days

Text

♫𝑮𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑬𝑶𝑼𝑺♫ | Childe x Fem! Reader

❝𝙊𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙄 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙚.❞ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

Attending a prestigious university near your hometown, you live alone in your mansion by the vacant, serene seaside. You spend your extra free time playing video games to distract the raging waves of your loneliness.

Your life hadn't been smooth sailing for the majority of your childhood, and now, you could finally thrive, peacefully.

However, when you arrived back home after another morning of classes, the normal comfort of your home was replaced with a cold-tense feeling that flagged every warning sign in your body.

So when a muscular arm held a cold-translucent spear up to your neck when you moved to exit, you slowly turned your head to look at your captor, ignoring the sting from where the water blade was beginning to draw blood.

A shiver ran down your spine when you caught a glimpse of bright ginger locks and ocean-blue eyes.

Now, you had a reason to be scared

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

❝Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine— You've ruined my life, by not being mine.❞

𓇼𓍢ִִ-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬✎

✧.*Thank you for reading my Childe x Female reader! Update times aren't confirmed, as I run on a schedule of when I can update. Please keep in mind that I'm currently in high-school and have many classes a day. One could even say I spend more time at school than I do at home. I am very busy and that's not even including what I have to to outside of school. Not to mention if I get sick, or my mental health. (I do have depression.) Also—please don't ask for updates, in a rude way, of course. I don't mind if you only ask once, as I will give you an answer anyway.

✧.*I do not own Childe, or any other Genshin Impact characters included in this story. They belong to Mihoyo. Any of the art used in this story isn't mine unless I specifically state otherwise.

✧.*Trigger warnings will be provided at the beginning of each chapter. Including lime. I'm not so sure if I'll be writing lemon yet, but we'll see.

✧.*The reader in this story is female, or what you would call afab, and uses the pronouns She/Her and They/Them. If this doesn't apply to you, I apologize. As a Demi-girl, I feel more comfortable writing a female protagonist.

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ✦

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"Gorgeous," by Taylor Swift

❝Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine, You've ruined my life, by not being mine.❞

"Paper Rings," by Taylor Swift

❝I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings.❞

"Ocean Eyes," by Billie Eilish

❝Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes. Burning cities and napalm skies—Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes.❞

"Bust Your Knee Caps," by Pomplamoose

❝Jonny don't leave me, You said you'd love me forever. Honey, believe me—I'll have your heart on a platter-❞

"Somethin' Stupid," by Frank Sinatra

❝The time is right, your perfume fills my head—The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue, And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"-❞

"High School Sweethearts," by Melanie Martinez

❝Can we just be honest? These are the requirements—If you think you can be my one and only true love..❞

"Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys

❝'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat-❞

"I Wanna Be Yours," by Arctic Monkeys

❝At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean—Now I wanna be yours-❞

"Supermassive Black Hole," by Muse

❝I thought I was a fool for no one—Ooh baby, I'm a fool for you-❞

"Panic Station," by Muse

❝Oooh 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes—And this chaos, it defies imagination. Ooo 5, 6, 7, minus 9 lives—You've arrived at panic station.❞

"Teeth," by 5 Seconds of Summer

❝Call me in the morning to apologize—Every little lie gives me butterflies-❞

"Sucker For Pain," Imagine Dragons

❝Walk slow through the fire like, who gon' try us?—Take my hand through the flames—I'm a slave to your games—I'm just a sucker for pain-❞

"Him and I," by G-Easy

❝Cross my heart, hope to die—To my lover, I'd never lie-❞

"Animals," by Maroon 5

❝Baby, I'm preying on you tonight—Hunt you down eat you alive-❞

"Paralyzer," by Finger Eleven

❝Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you. I wanna make you move because you're standin' still. If your body matches what your eyes can do.❞

"Dance Macabre," by Ghost

❝How could it end like this? There's a sting in the way you kiss me-❞

"Kiss The Go-Goat," by Ghost

❝It ain't always what it seems—When you cling onto a dream—it ain't always there to please you. But he's the guy you wanna do—And you know that it takes two, luckily he wants to do you too.❞

"The Death of A Bachelor," Panic! At The Disco

❝The lace in your dress tingles my neck, how do I live? The death of a bachelor—Oh oh-❞

"Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time," Panic! At The Disco

❝Five thousand people with designer drugs—Don't think I'll ever get enough—Champagne, cocaine, gasoline, and most things in between-❞

"Miss Jackson," by Panic! At The Disco

❝A pretty picture but the scenery is so loud—A face like heaven catching lighting in your nightgown-But back away from the water babe, you might drown-❞

"Wolf in Sheep's Clothing," by Set It Off

❝Beware, beware, be skeptical—Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold—Deceit, so natural, but a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning.❞

"Rasputin," by Boney M.

❝There lived a certain man in Russia long ago—He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow-❞

"Killshot," by Magdalena Bay

❝Something chronic—Bit demonic—Sin and tonic—Stupid promise—Can you make my heart stop? Hit me with your kill shot baby-❞

"Smooth Criminal," Micheal Jackson

❝You've been hit by—You've been hit by a smooth criminal.❞

"I Was Made For Lovin' You," by KISS

❝I was made for lovin' you, baby—You were made for lovin' me. And I can't get enough of you, baby—Can you get enough of me?❞

"Island In The Sun," by Weezer

❝When you're on a golden sea, you don't need no memory—Just a place to call your own—We'll run away together—We'll spend some time forever—We'll never feel bad anymore.❞

"You Give Love a Bad Name," Bon Jovi

❝Shot through the heart—And you're to blame. Darlin', you give love a bad name-❞

"Maneater," Nelly Furtado

❝Everybody look at me, me—I walk in the door, you start screaming-❞

"Partners In Crime," by Set It Off

❝You'll never takes us alive—We swore that death will do us part—They'll call our crimes a work of art.❞

"Rock Your Body," by Justin Timberlake

❝Don't be so quick to walk away—Dance with me—I wanna rock your body—Just wanna rock you girl.❞

"Criminal," by Brittney Spears

❝But mama I'm in love with a criminal—And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical-❞

"Dangerous," by Left Boy

❝Dangerous, ooh!, that sounds good yeah—Talk to me baby, like I'm your dude-❞

"Once More To See You," by Mitski

❝In the rearview mirror, I saw the setting sun on your neck—And felt the taste of you bubble up inside me, but with everybody watching us, our every move—We do have reputations—We keep it secret—If you would let me give you pinky promise kisses then I wouldn't have to scream your name atop of every roof in the city of my heart.❞

"There's Nothing Left For You," by Mitski

❝There's nothin' left for you—Nothin' in this room. Try and go outside—Nothin' waits for you. You had it once before—Not anymore—So go on to that sweetheart's door and find a new you.❞

"Recently," by Liana Flores

❝Hand in hand—The flowers understand that we're fine, you and I—Hands are tied. I don't mind—I'll make you be okay—And frequently I picture myself walking straight into the sea, laughing as the waves come rolling to my knees—What a place to be.❞

"Here With Me," by d4vd

❝I don't care how long it takes, as long as I'm with you I've got a smile on my face.❞

"Golden Hour," by JVKE

❝I was all alone with the love of my life. She's got glitter for skin—My radiant beam in the night.❞

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

15%

45%

85%

100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

→𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : "Gorgeous," by Taylor Swift

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

❝You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong❞

𓇼𓍢ִִ-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ✦

Dust arose from the old book you opened, the pages were fragile from many years of wear and tear.

You borrowed it from your family's overly large library, which looked like it belonged in a rustic castle, not a mansion located on a cliff near the sea.

Running your fingers over the decrepit pages, your eyes followed the faded words one by one.

"Το μέλλον," The title read.

Despite only being 10, you were far more intelligent than most children your age.

You knew a few different languages and took multiple advanced classes in school.

Though your family still didn't think you were good enough.

A frown spread across your face at the thought, the rainbow shimmer inside of your (e/c) irises, which your family also thought was odd, grew slightly cloudy.

Shaking your head to dismiss the looming sadness crowding your head, you looked at the title on the dusty book closer.

From what you could tell, the words read, "The Future," but in Greek.

Flipping through the pages, you skimmed over the sentences, seeing nothing interesting, until a certain tragedy plastered onto the top of a page caught your attention.

"The flood?"

Pressing the book harder onto the table, you leaned in closer, analyzing every word inked onto the paper.

Around 9 years ago, a disastrous flood wiped out a majority of the town you lived around 40 minutes away from.

Buildings were damaged, some almost beyond repair, and many families moved to get away from the aftermath. Others, however, weren't so lucky.

Nowadays, a town like yours, next to a large beach with white sands and crystal blue water, would be bursting at the seams with people and greedy contractors trying to sell out the locals.

But the flood prevented that from happening.

And now, only locals remained in the now-rebuilt beach town, which looks almost brand new.

A major part of you was thankful for nature protecting your little slice of paradise from those who didn't belong.

The words on the pages described what happened during the flood in great detail, and the more you read, the more disturbed you became.

This book had to be multiple decades old, so why did it describe the tragedy so perfectly?

Lost in the rapid currents of your thoughts, the familiar sound of stilettos clicking against wooden floors startled you out of your daze.

You jumped and almost fell from the latter you were leaning against.

Jumping down from the latter, and almost twisting your ankle, you opened a random drawer at the bottom of the bookcase and shoved the book in it.

The large door to the library opened with a creak, as the sound of heels against the floor ceased.

"What are you up to?"

You turned around quickly, a guilty smile plastered on your face.

"Nothing Mother— I was just looking for a new book to read..." A worn-out sigh left your mouth, as your hands moved to brush the dust off of the expensive material of your dress.

She raised an eyebrow, a sour look overtaking her face. "Mhm. If only all that reading you've done would help with your studies." Your mother placed her hand on her hip, tapping her sleek-black stiletto against the wooden flooring.

You frown, feeling yourself lose patience. "Is there something you need?"

"It's Ma'am to you. And yes, there is. Your father is hosting a party with his colleagues and I don't need you looking trashy in front of business." She walks up to you as you back up into the bookshelf, cowering as you feel a manicured nail press against your shoulder.

"I've commissioned a designer dress for you, it's hanging in your room. All you have to do is to sit still and look pretty. Don't mess up."

Your frown deepens. "Yes Ma'am..."

She looks you up and down, the sour look remaining. "Good. Don't disappoint our family name."

Flipping her hair, your mother removed her nail from your shoulder, a crescent mark evidence of her anger, and walked away, not bothering to shut the door as her quieting footsteps furthered away.

Sliding down onto the floor, you sighed, your silk dress draping around you and flowering onto the floor.

"What I'd give for peace."

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

After some time on the floor to regain your bearings, you dragged yourself up, exiting the library and walking up a flight of stairs to your room.

Despite your parents' coldness toward you, your room was beautiful and made you feel at peace every time you were in it.

Your bed sat at the bottom of your room, and a spiral staircase led to a second floor where your vanity among other things was.

A dull murmur left your mouth, as you opened the door to your large walk-in closet and flipped the light on, your eyes landing on the dress that lay on your closet's island.

Stepping closer, light and almost unsure, you admired the dress, eyes twinkling at the pretty fabric.

Even if you felt bitter towards your parents, you couldn't deny their obvious talent in fashion.

Against the light from your closet, the shimmery silver fabric or the gown sparkled, along with the light tint of (f/c) covering the material. The top of the dress fit a modest sweetheart neckline where the sparkly fabric was crossed over the other, with off-the-shoulder sleeves that draped off the shoulders from the excess material. A dark silver belt wrapped around the waist.

Smiling brightly, you picked up the dress and twirled around, an energetic giggle leaving your mouth.

"Maybe today won't be so bad after all."

Setting down the sparkling gown, you pulled the zipper down on the dress you were currently wearing and pulled it over your head, tossing it onto the floor to focus your attention on your new dress.

You patted down your petticoat and turned toward your attention to the gown lying on your island, carefully undoing the zipper.

With barely concealed excitement, you slipped the gown over your head, putting your arms through the sleeves and fixing the dress over your petticoat.

Your breath halted as you slowly walked over to the large mirror at the end of your closet.

The dress fit you perfectly and shimmered every time the light hit it, resembling a diamond in the sunlight.

A wide grin spread across your face as you clumsily stumbled out of your closet, leaving the door open and the lights on, and dangerously rushing up the spiral staircase in your room.

You approached your vanity and plopped down in the chair in front of it, opening one of the drawers and grabbing a few makeup products out of it.

A lopsided attempt at doing your makeup, you noticed, groaning and rubbing more eyeshadow onto your eyelid in an attempt to fix your mistakes.

Though you were better at most of your age makeup, you still had a lot to learn.

A knock on your door startled you out of what you were doing, and you almost dropped the brush in your hand.

Your eyes widened and you placed the brush back onto your vanity, almost falling out of your chair. "--Coming!"

Shifting came from behind the door as the knock increased in volume. "Ms. (Name)? Are you alright?"

The voice coming from the hallway caused you to sigh in relief.

Untangling your leg from the chair, (a result of not paying attention to your surroundings,) you walked over to your staircase and carefully, this time, walked down to your door.

You grabbed the door handle and opened the door, coming face to face with your maid, Arabella.

"I'm fine Ari–what's with that face?"

She stared at you with wide eyes, before her face twisted in a way that made her look like she was in pain.

Covering her mouth with her palm, she averted her eyes, attempting to not laugh at your predicament.

"Arabella?"

Arabella shook her head and calmed herself down, sighing and stepping toward you, placing a hand on your shoulder in sympathy. "Ms. (Name)...while I don't doubt your talents for a moment, I do believe you need some help with your makeup."

Now it was your turn to stand there fish-eyed.

Bashfully, the floorboards seemed most interesting as you looked at the floor, nodding in embarrassment.

She smiled at you and grabbed your hand, leading you up the stairs and guiding you to sit in front of your vanity.

"I'm guessing you favor a certain color, hm?"

Recovering from your embarrassment, you nodded, grabbing one of your many eyeshadow pallets and opening it to point at your favorite color.

"What a wonderful choice. This color suits your complexion."

Arabella grabbed a makeup wipe and held your chin as she wiped your makeup off in a gentle manner.

"Now–let's start fresh."

Grabbing a brush, Arabella began to lightly apply makeup to your face.

You hummed in pleasure at the soft motion, feeling yourself becoming sleepy. Who knew getting your makeup done could be so relaxing?

With a swift hand movement, Arabella applied a small amount of eyeliner over the shimmery eyeshadow you were wearing and then spun your chair around to face the mirror of your vanity.

"You can open your eyes now Ms. (Name)."

Peeking your eyes open, you grinned widely, beaming at the beautiful art on your face.

Arabella noticed your silence and began to worry. "Do you like it? I can redo it if you don't–"

"I love it!"

You rushed and engulfed her in an energetic hug.

She stumbled in shock before laughing and hugging your back, patting your head. "Now Ms. (Name). Let's not mess up your makeup just yet."

A huff left your mouth as you snickered, "Alright," you paused and let go of Arabella before smirking, "By the way, you can just call (Name)."

Arabella gaped before shaking her head. "Ma'am–"

"I see you as a friend. There's no need for formalities."

She gave you a warm smile. "Alright then, (Name)."

You giggled and she flicked you on the nose, rolling her eyes playfully. "It's almost time for you to greet your family's guests."

The calm expression on your face dampened and you frowned.

Arabella noticed your discomfort and gave you a reassuring smile. "You'll do great, I know you will," Reaching into the pocket of her apron, she pulled out a necklace and placed it against your neck," If it helps, I found this on the floor of the library when I was looking for you. When I saw it I immediately thought of you."

You looked down at the necklace and gasped when you saw a beautiful white-gold ring, set with large ruby crystals in the center and adorned with a few navy crystals along the rim. Flipping the ring over, you looked at the band, which had a narwhal carved into the thick part of the back and the letter A carved into the thin part of the band.

It sat perfectly on your collarbone, and the weight of the metal felt like it was meant to be there. Not to mention how the ring felt warm against your upper chest, and when you tried to remove it, frigidness would wash over you.

You smiled genuinely at your friend. "Thank you, Ari. For everything."

She pinched your cheek and lightly shoved you towards the door.

"Don't mention it." Arabella brushes off your dress and tucks a wild strand of your hair behind your ear. "Break a leg."

The nervous smile on your face shifted into one of confusion. "What?"

"It's an expression. You'll do great anyway, I know it."

Before you could press her even further, she pushed you out of your room and shut the door behind you.

A shaky sigh left your mouth and you made your way down the hallway, walking down two flights of stairs and reaching the entrance to the living room.

You spotted your mother's authoritarian figure standing in front of the doorway, arm linked with your fathers, who was laughing proudly, raising a glass of whiskey to toast.

Slinking quietly toward the entrance, you tried to slip inside to a corner where you wouldn't be noticed, but when your heels made a noise on the floor, your mother's sharp icy blue eyes turned towards you.

She gave you a look and you begrudgingly walked up to stand beside her.

A fierce whisper left her mouth. "You're late."

You gulped, cold sweat began to form as you could feel her free hand wrap around your wrist, her sharp nails threatening to break the skin.

"But you didn't say when to—"

"That's enough. I don't want to hear your excuses. The only thing you can do to atone for your mistakes is sit still and look pretty. Got it?"

"Yes, mother.." You nod, tears threatening to ruin your makeup.

"Good."

She released your wrist, but the mark remained, already red and irritated.

Your father had finally finished his speech and looked toward where you were standing. He seemed surprised to see you there but frowned when he saw your watery eyes.

He unlinked his arm with your mother and placed a hand on your shoulder, patting it softly.

You smiled through your tear-blurry eyes.

Everything would be okay.

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

The party had ended after a few more hours after the tipsy stragglers left.

With a renewed pep in your step, you gratefully left the living room, rushing up the stairs to the second floor to run back into the library.

Pushing the door open faster than you usually did, (and with the weight of the door, you'd be sore tomorrow,) you rushed toward the drawer you remember stashing the mysterious book in.

Flinging open the drawer, you found the book just where you had left it,

A relieved sigh left your mouth. "Thank goodness."

You pick up the book and stuff it under your petticoat, making sure it won't fall out.

Shutting the drawer, you ran out of the open library, not bothering to look and see if someone was inside the hallway to witness your odd behavior.

Another flight of stairs later and a few confused maids, you had made it back to your room and locked the door.

You sat the book on your nightstand, deciding you'd read more of it after you got some rest.

Quickly taking of your dress along with your other items, you took your makeup off and lunged into your bed, snuggling into the silk covers as you drifted off to sleep.

But, what you didn't realize is that the book had fallen off your nightstand, hitting the floor and opening up to reveal a read and gold mask.

𓇼𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐚˖✩࿐࿔˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚

❝𝙊𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙄 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙚.❞

🐚 ྀ࿓(Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax x Female Reader)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @strawberrysunr1se 4/10/24

𓇼𓍢ִִ-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

#childe #tartaglia #childe tartagalia #genshin impact #childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia smut #tartagila #childe tartaglia ajax #sub!childe

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constellationguy · 1 month

Text

That Radio Show

Summary: In the absence of the radio demon listeners of hell find a new broadcast to enjoy.

Chapter three

Chapter one: The New Voice On the Air

Every child dreams to be famous when they grow up, you were no different. When you were younger you wanted nothing more than to have your voice heard from all corners of the globe, to be heard on every radio station, to have your voice ring in the ears of millions of people. You took countless vocal lessons as a kid to prepare you for audition after audition, however very little came from it. Until in high school, you landed a job with your local radio station and fell in love with the art form. You worked almost full time despite school work piling up, the high of being live on air was worth barely passing a class or two. You did school work while music played on air when you weren’t speaking, it was the best job in the world in your book and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Eventually you took over the station after you graduated, working from 5:30am to 6:00 in the afternoon on most days, but night shifts always had the best callers and the warmest ambiance. You pored your heart and soul into your work until you died in a freak hunting accident in 2017.

When you arrived in hell you had dear like qualities, “I guess getting shot like game turned you into game in the after life” you thought looking at your new doe like features. Being new to hell was such an uncomfortable feeling, however you tried to get yourself in your feet as soon as possible. You spent about half a year working in a tailor shop getting yourself a house and a phone. Once you got enough money you finally got yourself an office and radio equipment to start broadcasting within the month. To advertise the radio station you made a hellstagram account just simply named “That Radio Show”. Your bio stated “That Radio Show will be making its debut on station 66.62 fm on the air in 2 weeks time at 5:30am on XX,XX, 2017! Be sure to tune in and maybe give us a call while on the air to chat at (666)-xxx-xxxx or send us mail to read on the air at xxxxx PO Box. Can’t wait to be on the air!”. You made posts advertising your debut, and asking your followers about ideas what to name your new radio show, and of course song suggestions. To your surprise your account went viral and got millions of followers in just a few days, your dms and comments filled with suggestions and surprisingly sweet comments with very little backlash. So when you debuted at 5:30am you had thousands of listeners tune in. Just as 5:30am graced hells residents, a sweet piano piece started to echo through the streets of hell. You lowered the volume just slightly hoping it would give just enough ambiance to your broadcast before speaking.

“Good morning residents of hell.” you said cautious of the volume of your voice.

“It is currently 5:30am in Pentagram City and for many it is time to start the day. As some of you may know this is the debut broadcast of That Radio Show!” You said excitedly.

“So please be sure to check out That Radio Show on hellstagram to send in song suggestions. As this is my first day on the air I hope my dear listeners can treat me with some grace” you hummed.

“Well, I’ll let those of you who got woken up by me go back to sleep and those waking up in peace for a bit, here is “I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire” by The Ink Spots”.

You then muted yourself before fading the piano music and changing it to the song. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held and smiled into your microphone. You spent about two hours introducing the next song in the broadcast order before you got your first call.

“That was “Let’s Do It” by Ella Fitzgerald. Such a sweet song this early in the morning don’t you think? Well-“ you were caught off guard by the phone ringing.

“It seems we have our first caller,” you answered the phone.

“Hello dear you’re on the air!”

“Oh darling!” a southern voice called through the phone.

“Your voice is just velvet to the ears of all of us in Cannibale Town, we are loving you down here darling! Keep up the tunes and let that voice shine.”

“Aw thank you dear,” you cooed into the microphone, “Such high praises on debut day, but nonetheless it is well appreciated.” Listeners could hear the smile in your voice and boy did it pull heart strings.

“Well of course darling, can’t let a beautiful voice go un-complemented, you have a good day now.” The lady said into the phone. “You too, Miss.” You exhaled, chuckling a bit, a smile evident in your tone.

“How sweet that was, ha, well it is currently 8:00am in Pentagram City and the weather is perfect for a morning walk. I hope you can take that opportunity and start your morning off right. This is “Je Te Leaisserai Des Mots” by Patrick Watson, hope you enjoy.” Once you muted yourself you practically squealed in joy with the blatant success of the radio show. Your hellstagram was full of comments praising your voice and pick if songs. The overwhelming support uncommon in hell was shocking and such a surprise, a welcome one though. You got a few more calls throughout the day, only one of them being rude and chastising radio for being an out of date media and flirting with you brazenly on the air.

“Oh that’s no way to speak to a lady, let alone live on air,” you cooed feigning innocence. You sent a devastatingly loud electroshock through the line and your callers line went dead as he fell to the floor.

“Oh dear it seems he hung up,” you chuckled “well- no matter, just remember dear listeners don’t be brazen and you won’t get shocked,” you said with edge in your voice. “Well, this is “Viola Sonata: 1. Largo” composed by Andrei Volkonsky.” You said giving out a light satisfying sigh. As the song closed your voice again rang in the heads of your listeners, “Well doesn’t that piece just tear at your terrible heart strings, such an erre sounding piece. How about something a bit lighter, this is “Bella Belle” by the Electric Swing Circus, hopefully a good dance will shake off any lingering weariness and tension, tune in and dance along, here’s Bella Belle”.

The rest of your day was rather uneventful.

“Well dear listeners, it is 6pm and my time on air is sadly up, don’t worry though. If you stay tuned into this station you’ll still hear music that I lined up to play until I get back tomorrow at 5:30am. Have a lovely evening sinners, I hope you all can tune in tomorrow.” You finally muted yourself for the last time today and leaded back into your chair sighing satisfied. You missed this feeling when you died. Well, no longer would you miss this feeling, you thought as you grab your things and left your office. Just as you locked up the owner of the building spawned behind you.

“SHIT-“ you yelled jumping and dropping your things.

“Such a jumpy thing you are,” the man teased to your annoyance. “You made a rise out of hell today toots, all the old souls have been craving a new voice to cling to after that old shit up and disappeared.” This man was just trying to get a rise out of you at this point but you indulged him, wouldn’t want to get kicked out of your office, he owned the building after all.

“Cut to the chase, what do you want,” you said shortly electricity dripping off your tongue.

“Oh I thought deer were jumpy and scarred things, never thought one would bite back so violently.” He said, voice full of tease and annoyance.

“Unless you are here to tell me about the this “old shit” of a senior I apparently have I would like to leave,” you said pushed through him going down the stair well.

“No need to be a bitch toots,” he called after you. You let it go for now, a little insults in exchange for a bit of information was a fair trade in your opinion.

After fixing yourself a meal you looked up your supposed senior, from what you could tell that “old shit” the building owner was talking about was the Radio Demon. He disappeared this year, a terrifying demon just up and left the public eye. From what you found online he was an overlord and a powerful one at that. He used is radio show is display his power, so this is what you were needed to live up to. Odd.

Chapter two: In the Eyes of the Public

With the radio demon’s disappearance there is less competition, you thought, though that’s a big role to fill for the public. No matter, you thought, you’ll learn to manage, he’ll be back soon… probably….

Everyday your influence on hell’s population grew, listening to your opinions and snide comments, hells older population absolutely fell in love with you. The younger population wasn’t to fond of radio as you were but, to each their own, as long as they keep their complaints between each other and not on your broadcast. As the months past the public grew fonder of you in the radio demons absence, you worry for his return but as months turn into years you worried less and less about him coming after you.

Well into your first year broadcasting you made a slip up that you somehow ended up in your favor.

“Good evening my dear listeners, it is currently 3:30pm in Pentagram City and this lovely winter has graced our dear city and lulled us into a somber mood. I can’t deny that I am not feeling it too so todays music is definitely in the feels today, here is “I’ll Never Smile Again” by Tommy Dorsey” you lowered a dial and muted yourself before sitting back and singing along to the music. Little did you know you turned down the songs volume and muted the piano you had playing in the background, not yourself. So as you listened to the light music and sang along to the sad tune all of hell could hear your voice. Many of your regular listeners simply enjoyed the show while newer listeners decided to record the song and it spread like wildfire, to your embarrassment.

You tried gloss over your mistake however hell seemed to love this little mishap and blew it way out of proportion. Soon enough your dear listeners began calling you “the princess of radio”. As much as you didn’t like the name at first, terrified for when the radio demon came back, it stuck and there was nothing you could do about it.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @alexthefly

From @alexthefly to @gaviiadastra

FUN AND GAMES NIGHT

The prompts:

A Tracy Island games night;

Something’s cooking in the kitchen;

Put the mess in domestic.

Rating: teen

Content warnings:

Moderate whump (fracture, soft tissue injuries);

Alcohol throughout (no drunkenness);

Flirting, including innuendo and one sex mention;

One instance of swearing.

Other warnings: a bit of Pen & Ink included in this one; hope that's ok.

**********

A familiar combination of thrusters, VTOL and a slightly-delayed sonic boom signalled Thunderbird One's return to the island. Gordon immediately felt his heart-rate leap a hundred beats.

“They’re here! Action stations! Alan, fluff the cushions; Virgil, get the food; Kayo…”

Whatever task Gordon had been about to assign to her fizzled away in a blaze of epic side-eye.

“...just kick back and relax, ok? No biggie.”

He backed away a few steps just to be safe, but his sister seemed satisfied, pointedly putting her feet back up on the coffee table before returning to her romance book.

Any other day the temptation to comment on her choice of reading material would be far too much to bear, however hazardous to his health such a comment might be, but today he had other things occupying his mind.

“What can I do?” asked John, making to get up just as Virgil - already on his feet - pushed him firmly back down onto the sofa.

“You can stay right there, Mister,” he said, voice full-medic stern. “You know the rules. First night down from Five means no unnecessary moving around.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian, but thankfully stayed where he was.

Gordon flashed the big man a grateful smile on his way past to the kitchen. The last thing he needed right now was a certified space-case causing a danger to himself and others.

Not tonight.

“Shall I get some tunes ready?” Alan had already pulled his tablet out from behind a pillow and started tapping. “I’ve got a great playlist I’ve been working o-”

“Is it video game music?” asked Kayo, not even looking up.

“Yeah?”

“No!” The chorus was unanimous.

“Aww, but it’s not like normal video games. It’s this really cool mix of techno and-”

“NO!”

Alan pouted. “Oh, so I guess you'd all rather listen to Fish-boy’s sea shanties and Europop?”

“Hey!”

Gordon was all ready to defend his frankly impeccable musical taste, but John was clearly not in a mood for bickering.

“EOS, could you put on playlist P3 please?”

“Of course John.”

And with that the room was filled with gentle contemporary music - upbeat but not too raucous, neither intrusive nor dull - ideal for an evening with company. Obviously it was no Wellerman, but it wasn’t half bad.

“Would you like some ambient lighting as well?”

“Not right now, thankyou EOS” replied John, ruffling Alan’s hair as he sat back down with a huff. “Is everything okay up there? Any calls? I could dial in if you need me?”

“Absolutely not,” said Kayo, an edge of menace in her voice. “You’re staying right where you are. Grandma’s orders.”

John scowled.

“Really John, there’s no need,” continued EOS. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things for one evening.”

Gordon noted the slight drop of his big brother’s shoulders but decided not to tug on that thread just now. Gravity always did a number on John the first night down, and it had been known to make him grumpy and homesick.

Virgil wandered back in carrying a big bucket filled with ice water, bottles of beer, prosecco, and cans of soda. With every step another puddle of ice water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.

“Allie, get a cloth would you? And could someone get some glasses out please? I’m kinda weighed down here.”

Kayo and Alan each grabbed one of John’s shoulders, using them to both pin him down and haul themselves up. The older man started to object, but was distracted by a ping on Alan’s tablet beside him.

“Scott’s on his way up now.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

Gordon had the sudden and inexplicable urge to dunk his head in the bucket Virgil had just set down, but instead decided to busy himself with robustly re-plumping the chair pillows while bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“So everything’s ready, right? Place is tidy, drinks are out, games are stacked, food’s in hand… Are we all set? Should I open a window? It’s kinda hot in here.” Am I sweating? “Maybe I should go change-”

“Breathe Gordon.” soothed Virgil, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of it felt good. Calming. “This isn’t a state dinner; just a normal games night like we’ve done a thousand times before. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Gordon scoffed. “Except it’s not though, is it? ‘Cos those other times it was just us, not-”

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open.

“Right through here Lady Penelope.” Scott Tracy, suave as always, smoothly waved their guest into the room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“Thankyou Scott. And sorry again that you had to come and collect me…”

And there she was. Penelope.

Perfection personified. The epitome of class and grace. A beautiful angel with a heart of gold and a spine of steel, whose voice was a song and whose smile could reduce whole armies to-

“Gordon, what on earth are you doing to that cushion?”

Huh?

He looked down at his hands to see the pillow he’d been fluffing, now scrunched and twisted over and over as if he were trying to throttle the poor thing. As he stared down trying to compute the mess of fabric and stuffing it suddenly disappeared from his hands, and then something was shoving him in the back, causing him to stumble forwards over his own feet. He recovered just in time to spot Virgil throwing the battered scatter cushion back behind the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, there will be vengeance…

Right now though she was looking at him and oh god he needed to say something.

“Uh…”

Quick as you like, Tracy.

“Er…” His throat made a strange sort of rasping sound.

Any words will do!

“Lady Penelope!” he squeaked. “Welcome in! Come here! I mean come in. Welcome here. You’re welcome here. To our home I mean. This home. Where we…”

He glanced over and caught sight of Kayo, face in hand, shaking her head behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the evening.

“Drink!” he exclaimed, just a little too loudly. “Can I… Would you like a drink?”

The small, knowing smile she gave him was all at once thrilling and completely mortifying; a glorious little needle of light straight through his poor, mortal little heart.

“That would be wonderful. Thankyou Gordon.”

Cheeks burning, he slumped off to the bar and a consolatory shoulder nudge from Kayo while Scott showed Penelope to the seating area. Virgil scooted around them and disappeared back down to the kitchen, throwing him a sympathetic look on the way.

After getting their guest settled, Scott casually folded himself down on the sofa next to her. “So how come Parker didn’t join us tonight? He was more than welcome.”

Gordon loudly shovelled a scoopful of ice into a long glass and then reached for the schnapps.

Stupid Never-flustered Always-has-the-right-words Scott Tracy…

“He wasn’t feeling too good I’m afraid. He said something about Lilian’s casserole disagreeing with him, but to be honest I suspect it was probably more to do with the FA cup final showing on BBC.”

Cranberry, orange wedge…

Kayo cleared her throat softly. “So what drink was it you wanted, Lady Penelope?”

Gordon’s brain short-circuited, vodka in hand.

What.. drink?

He replayed the conversation - such as it had been - through again in his head.

…Dammit, he forgot to ask! He’d been so flummoxed he’d ended up mixing on autopilot.

“Oh, anything really. Whatever you’re all having.” Penelope looked over curiously. “What’s that you have there, Gordon?”

Aww hell.

“It’s a… umm… Sex on the Beach.”

Now it was John’s turn to facepalm while Alan snickered from behind his tablet. Even Scott snorted before passing it off with a hasty clear of the throat.

Lady Penelope, however, held Gordon’s gaze, expression inscrutable, then ever so slowly arched one perfectly coiffured eyebrow.

“Well, that sounds interesting. But perhaps just some wine for now and we’ll see how we get on.”

There was a squeak beside him, and Kayo ducked down behind the bar giggling. Alan snort-coughed and had to be hit on the back by John, who was at least trying - somewhat painfully - to keep a straight face. Scott just grinned at him.

Gordon stood there, stunned into inertia, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own mortification holding him back or the slight hint of mischief in Penelope’s eye, almost as if…

Nope, he was definitely imagining it.

Scott looked from one to the other for a moment then, chuckling to himself, jumped to his feet and strode over to the bar.

“C’mon Fish,” he said quietly, grabbing a champagne flute off the bar top and flashing his best, most reassuring, big brother smile. “Let’s go choose a game and get this thing started.”

Gordon nodded, dumbfounded. He grabbed his ridiculous but perfectly mixed drink, complete with little novelty umbrella, and trudged over to the seating area.

Alan was already giving the assembled group a run-down of the various choices lined up for the evening. “We’ve got all your classics like backgammon, chess, battleships, guess who…”

“Those are all for two people, Allie,” said Scott, grabbing himself a beer and pouring Penelope her wine. “How about something we can all play?”

“Clue then?”

“That needs six. We’ve got seven.”

“I don’t mind sitting out the first round if you need me to,” Penelope said gently, accepting her drink.

“Not a chance,” said John firmly. “You’re our guest.”

Alan looked around, confused. “Wait, who’s the seventh?”

Kayo passed him a soda from the bucket.

“Uh, Virgil(?)”

“Oh yeah.”

““Oh yeah” he says,” came Virgil’s voice over the ‘comms. “How soon I’m forgotten(!)”

“Sorry Virg!” Alan slurped his soda loudly, earning him a frown from both Scott and Gordon. “Guess I’m just too hungry to think. Where’s the food at?”

“It’s coming. Just waiting for the vol-au-vents to puff up.”

Alan nearly spat out his soda.

“Vol-au-vents?! What happened to our wings and chi- Oww!”

A pillow flew across the room and caught Alan right upside the head. He got back up and glared at Gordon, who was already gearing up for another throw.

“Whatcha do that for?”

Penelope looked from one to the other, realisation dawning.

“I do hope you didn’t go to any trouble, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all. Really, it’s all in hand. I’ll be up in a few.”

And with that the comms blinked off.

John swayed forward in his seat. “Y’know, I might go give him a hand…”

“Sit down, John!” ordered Scott, clearly done with them all by this point.

John remained there for a second, possibly weighing up the odds of making a run for it, then sat back down, arms folded definitely-not-at-all petulantly.

“...Fine.”

“What about Monopoly?” suggested Penelope, clearly trying to change the subject. “That can have up to eight players.”

Kayo shook her head.

“Can’t.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been banned,” Alan piped up. “Grandma said so.”

A pause. “...I see.”

“Well that doesn’t matter, does it?” urged Gordon, keen to get everyone playing before the whole evening went up in smoke. “Grandma can’t stop us from all the way in Gran Roca.”

“You sure about that, Gords?” asked Kayo, eyebrow raised.

He laughed nervously. “Heh…”

“In any case,” interjected Scott, “did you forget why Grandma banned it?”

“...Good point.”

The Great Tracy Anti-capitalist Revolution of 2056. In Gordon’s defence Scott had started it, buying up all those hotels like a dragon hoarding gold…

Alan held up a bunch of VR headsets. “How about something more modern? I’ve got Samurai Slasher, Twilight Ridge, Malibu Steade’s Epic Quest…?”

Scott frowned. “Not on John's first night down, Squirt.”

“Oh yeah. Gotcha.”

Gordon nodded. Way too much potential for injury.

“Ugh!” John threw his hands in the air. “You guys are like a flock of mother hens. I’m fine! Look…” He rolled to his feet before anybody could tell him not to. “Nice and steady. No wobbles, no stumbles. Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Johnny…”

“John darling...”

“Nope, I’m not listening,” he barked, striding purposely out of the seating area towards the stairwell, “Comfort breaks are necessary, so I don't care what you s-”

“John!”

“Food’s here!”

“Look out!”

There was an “oof” and a crash as spaceman, heavy-lifter and a platter of freshly-made vol-au-vents collided in a mess of limbs and pastry before tumbling out of sight down the kitchen stairs.

“John!”

“Virgil!”

Everyone was on their feet as a series of thuds, grunts, clatters and clangs echoed from the stairway, followed by one very plaintive “Oww.”

The place immediately erupted into total uproar. Ever the level head, Kayo immediately ran to get the first aid kit and the medi-scanner. Meanwhile Scott - always the quickest to leap into action - practically flew down the stairs after the pair of them in a frenzy of big brotherly concern, with Alan, Gordon and Penelope following closely behind.

The two fallers themselves were actually relatively uninjured in the circumstances. Both were a mess of bruises and grazes and smooshed pastry, but at least they were fully conscious and coherent enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. John had twisted his ankle and had a walnut-sized bump on his forehead, and Virgil (who had slid most of the way down the steps backwards) ended up with a bruised tailbone, strained shoulder and one broken finger.

The kitchen, unfortunately, hadn’t fared quite so well. Total disaster was the most accurate description.

Best they could figure, the metal serving platter Virgil had been carrying had reached the ground floor airborne, bounced off the doorframe and had landed right in the middle of the countertop, sending plates, bowls, jars and spoons scattering and smashing all over the place. The situation wasn’t helped any when MAX, having heard the commotion, came speeding into the kitchen brandishing a mop and broom, skidded on a stray patch of vol-au-vent filling, slammed into the fridge and sent ice cubes from the dispenser shooting across the floor, then got confused and started spinning on the spot, taking out the stand mixer and two cupboard doors in the process.

Eventually they managed to get things back on a somewhat even keel. After a thorough checking over and an even more thorough mothering from Big Bro, both casualties were helped to their feet and safely installed back on the sofas with strict instructions not. To. Move.

Penelope kept herself busy fetching drinks and ice packs for the patients and generally trying to soothe frayed nerves while Gordon, Alan and Kayo set to work fixing the kitchen back up, but after twenty minutes Scott - aware of the time and the presence of their guest - called everyone back to try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

And so instead of vol-au-vents, chips and dips were retrieved from various stashes in various rooms, drinks were replenished (non-alcoholic for the two injured parties, eliciting low grumbles from one and shrug of “stupid gravity” from the other) and in lieu of further disagreements a couple of packs of cards was produced.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying rounds of Go Fish, rummy, and playing poker for bottle caps, with plenty of jokes, stories and good conversation enjoyed in-between. Towards the end of the night - and to Gordon’s delight - Penelope even taught them a game from her university days called Shithead.

Finally, after most of the others had said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms, Gordon and Penelope sat side-by-side on the sofa finishing their drinks alone, save for Alan who was snoring softly on the floor beside them.

Penelope swirled the last of her drink with her straw. “Do you think we should move him? That doesn’t look very comfortable…”

Gordon shrugged. “Nah, that’s how he normally sleeps. It’s a teenager thing,” he added, chewing on his orange slice garnish.

Penelope beamed. “I really have had a lovely time tonight. It’s been the most terrific fun, injuries notwithstanding of course.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the warm mood lighting that EOS had finally persuaded John to put on an hour or so earlier.

“And this drink of yours really is delicious by the way.”

Gordon laughed.

“See? I knew you’d like it. Maybe one day I’ll open up a bar of my own right on the beach and serve them out of coconut shells.”

He removed the little paper umbrella from his glass and started opening and closing it like he was in a tiny Hollywood musical.

She laughed. “Well if tonight’s anything to go by, any bar of yours would never be dull!”

Gordon grinned and presented the tiny decoration to her with a flourish, all hint of his earlier embarrassment gone. He was here, she was here, and it was all just… right.

She accepted it with a smile.

Really though Gordon, it’s been the most wonderful night.”

There was a pause while she twirled the umbrella in her hand thoughtfully.

“You know, it’s not always easy to relax around other people, especially in my line of work.” She sighed. “So many functions, so many people, but it can all sometimes feel just a little bit…”

She shook her head.

“I’m not making any sense. It’s just that being here with you all, everything feels so… easy; so fun.”

Gordon leaned forwards, willing her to go on. It was like a wall somewhere was shifting, and he could finally catch a small glimpse of what was actually going on behind that perfect smile of hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, thankyou so much for inviting me.”

A breath. A moment that seemed to stretch out between them, soft and fragile.

“Thankyou for coming.”

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

The next morning, as Penny yawned and stretched out in the extra-soft, gloriously comfortable guest bed, luxuriating in the distinct novelty of waking up with nowhere particular she needed to be, her eye fell on the little yellow umbrella laying, just as she'd left it, on top of the nightstand beside her.

She smiled, her stomach fluttering.

So fun…

From downstairs there was a sudden commotion and a voice:

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU KIDS DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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austinsmutler · 11 months

Note

hii ,I heard requests are currently open and wondering if you could please pretty please write a masterpiece of a sleepover with virgin!elvis and his girl bff who he has a crush on and not too long hes found masturbating then it turns into a steamy ass night I guess? if you’re not comfy writing it, totally alright! love u and ur work, literally breathe and live on it😭🙏🤭♥️

Anon, are you trying to appeal to my ego? It’s working. I’m loving, living, and breathing from this idea! You know me, I love a bad boy EP, so this is my first take on virgin!Elvis. I’d love to write more, and I LOVE me some friends-to-lovers. And don’t get me STARTED on best friend!Elvis, good lord. The pining. The yearning. The increasing desperation all boiling over… have mercy.

Anyway, hope ya like this one!

Young Dreams - Virgin!Elvis x Reader - 3,600 Words

What you’ll like: Virgin!Elvis, Best friend Elvis who is absolutely weak for you, cute smut

Warnings: Sex, Elvis and reader are both inexperienced, but there's no pain because in this house we practice foreplay. Minors DNI.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Currently writing for Elvis, Austin!Elvis, and Eddie Munson)

“What do you mean no-one’s home this weekend?” Elvis sounded worried. Your fingers played with the phone cord, not sure how to console him.

“I’ll be fine. My folks needed a break, so they’re staying with Grandma on the coast for a few days. It’s only a few hours away- I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm.” Elvis hummed on the other end of the line. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“Elvis!”

“Alright, five minutes.”

You laughed until the other end of the line went dead. He can’t be serious, can he?

You’d known Elvis your entire life, ever since he’d moved onto the house at the end of the street. You walked home from school every day together, and now that high school was over and you had a job waitressing on the edge of town, he drove you to and from work every day. He said it wasn’t a problem because he drove in and out of Memphis for his own work, but the little diner was on the complete wrong side of town. Still, it meant you stayed close, even after graduation.

You sat on the living room windowsill. The rest of the house felt intimidating, big without your parents to fill it. Elvis knew you didn’t like being home alone, but what was he going to do about it?

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. You looked at the clock and bit back a smile. Exactly two minutes and thirty seconds since he hung up the phone.

“You’re late.” You said, crossing your arms in the doorframe.

“I had to pack.” Elvis grinned and held up a bag. “Can’t wear the same clothes all weekend, can I?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and stepped aside to let him in. Old Mrs Cranston was on her front porch, scowling from her rocking chair with a look that said, Your Momma will hear about this.

You fought the urge to stick your tongue out as you closed the door. Your parents had let Elvis stay over before- granted, you were kids then, but nothing had changed between the two of you since. You were just friends. If there were any feelings between the two of you, they were buried deep; the most private treasure, never to be unearthed.

Elvis had already made himself at home, leaning the bag beside the couch and turning on the radio, quickly tuning into Sam Phillips’ station.

“B.B. King.” Elvis whistled.

“Everyday I have the blues.” You named the track without thinking, and Elvis smiled. Music was the first love you shared, and you both sang along to the tune.

Ooh everyday,

Everyday,

I have the blues

When you see me worryin' baby,

Yeah, It's you

I hate to lose

Elvis’ voice was deep and soulful, honed from years of singing along to the choir every Sunday. You took a seat on the couch beside him as the next song played and he didn’t even pause for breath. Big Boy Crudup.

“That’s alright Mama, that’s alright with you…” He stood up to dance, taking on a completely different persona to the one he held when you sang together. His pretty features screwed together as Elvis sang with an attitude. “That’s alright, any way you do…”

You bit your lip as he lost himself in the music. Was he putting on this performance for you, or for himself? Maybe both. You’d listened to music together hundreds of times- at your home, at his, in his truck, in diners and at the movies. Every time he made it feel like an intimate experience, stirring something inside you weren’t sure you should feel.

“You’re good at that, you know.” You said as the song ended, hoping the heat on your cheeks wasn’t noticeable.

“What?” Elvis sat beside you, not even out of breath.

“Singing. Moving.” You smiled. “Remember that talent show when we were thirteen? You got first place.”

“I sang Old Shep.” He chuckled. “And you did that little dance, in the pink dress.”

“I can’t believe you remember that!” You slapped his arm. “Dunno what I was thinking, I’ve never been able to move. My feet get confused.”

“I liked it.” Elvis cleared his throat. “I like seeing you dance.”

If you weren’t blushing before, you were now. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on that.”

Another rock song came on the radio and Elvis stood again, feet already wiggling as he extended a hand. “C’mon, it’s easy.”

You shook your head, hugging yourself. “I’m fine right here.”

“Nah.” Elvis pulled you up with one almighty tug on your arms, pulling you into him. You weren’t so close that someone watching through the window would get the wrong idea, but you could still feel the heat radiating from his body, feel the strength in every motion as he moved. “Just feel the music and let it move you. Don’t think.”

You tried, and nearly tripped over your own feet before he caught you. Both of you broke into laughter at your awkward movements, but by the end of the song something loosened up. Were you a good dancer? Absolutely not. Next to Elvis you were even worse, but that didn’t matter.

Every time he grinned over at you, a little bit of that self-consciousness melted away until you were spinning in time to the music, so hard your poodle skirt lifted to show a flash of the underskirt beneath with every movement. It was the most delicious kind of dancing- free and fun, and certainly not allowed at school dances.

The room seemed to heat up, sweltering by the end of the song. Both your chests heaved with heavy breaths and you fanned yourself as you and Elvis stopped, staring at each other.

His blue eyes were dark, mouth open slightly as he looked at you. You’d seen that look before. Usually it was just a flash, when you laughed in the back of his truck, when he picked you up from work, when you listened to a brand new record together. This wasn’t a flash- this was written all over his face. Hunger.

“I should, uh…” You gulped. “It’s getting late, I’m gonna make dinner. Momma left me some things to reheat in the fridge, that okay?”

Elvis blinked and the look was gone. “Sure.”

He didn’t follow you into the kitchen, and you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or not. There had always been space between you, but it was always full of something. That look…

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you put two dishes of leftovers into the oven and set it to a low heat, along with a kitchen timer for ten minutes.

Sweat started to creep onto your skin, and you tried to shake away all the thoughts of Elvis, the molten look in his eyes, the way his jaw flexed as his eyes trailed down to the bust of your dress…

You needed to cool down, you decided, heading to the bathroom.

Only to open the door and be greeted to the sight of Elvis leaning against the sink, eyes closed and head tilted back, lips murmuring your name as his hand moved frantically over his-

You slammed the door with a yelp.

“Sorry!” You headed back to the kitchen, blood rushing to your face. Had you really just walked in on him touching himself?

He was whispering your name. He was whispering your name, and touching himself.

Elvis stumbled into the hallway, safely tucked into his pants. You tried to keep your eyes on his face and not on the obvious tent in his jeans. His face was just as red as yours must have been as he stuttered,

“M’sorry, you- you weren’t supposed to see that- I wasn’t-”

Your eyes flicked down, then to his face, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I was-” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I won’t- god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Were you thinking about me?” You asked, ignoring the way your voice wavered.

Elvis froze, before his eyes finally met yours and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

“You do that often?”

The look on his face told you all you needed to know. He shrank back as you walked up to him, hands shaking at your sides. Suddenly all those looks, all those flashes of hunger were making sense.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. It- it won’t happen again, I’m sor-”

Elvis was cut off as your hands wrapped around his head and pulled him down for a searing kiss. He froze again, before a moan rumbled up from deep in his throat and he grabbed at your lower back, pulling you against his hardness.

You devoured each other’s lips until there was no more oxygen in your lungs and you had to break apart or pass out.

“Why did you never say anything?” You breathed against his lips. Elvis licked at your bottom lip, humming another kiss into you before responding.

“I never thought you’d feel the same.”

Shock pulled your jaw to the floor. You weren’t sure whether to slap the man or kiss him again, but you decided on the latter. “I’ve never felt anything for anyone but you.”

Elvis growled and spun you around so you were against the wall, his hands on your waist, his tongue on your neck devouring every inch of exposed skin. The only thing in the world was the heat radiating from his body, dancing with yours. He lifted you up and your legs wrapped around him instinctively, the sudden contact of his hand on your bare thigh pulling a moan from your throat.

When Elvis pulled back to look at you his eyes were wild and raw. He ground against you, holding you in place against the wall as he moved. He rubbed against just the right place and heat shot through your body, releasing a sound you’d never made before, echoing up from your core to the tip of your tongue.

“That good?” Elvis asked and you nodded against him. He hit the same spot again, and again, grinding hard through your clothes until your entire body shook and you were sure you were about to die, or explode, or-

A sharp ringing cut through your moans. Damn timer.

“D-dinner.” You gasped. “Elvis, I- it’s in the oven…”

Elvis reluctantly put you down and you stumbled over to turn off the heat.

When you turned back to look at him, he was flushed, black hair messy from your fingers running through it, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them now that you were out of arm’s reach.

His dark eyes met yours and he stuttered out, “I’ve- I’ve never… Never done anything before. With anybody.”

You froze. “Not even with Dixie?”

He shook his head. “We only went to prom. She wound up dancing with Reggie from her band practice, and he took her home. That’s why I spent most of that night third-wheeling with you.”

You nodded, remembering the night. You’d been surprised when Elvis told you he’d found a date, but then a guy from the football team had asked you out and you’d reluctantly said yes.

Turned out he’d just wanted to get close to one of your friends. By the time Elvis came over, you were a third wheel on your own date. The only redeeming part of prom was driving home with him and listening to Fats Domino.

“I should’ve asked you.” He spoke, voice soft. “I was scared.”

“I would’ve said yes.” You swallowed. “I’m saying yes now.”

Elvis tilted his head. “To what?”

You closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his. “Everything. Anything.”

You bit back everything else, all the thoughts suddenly floating to the tip of your tongue: I’ve always wanted you. I want everything you have to give me. I don’t even know how long I’ve wanted you, but you’re under my skin and I want you deeper.

Elvis hummed into your mouth, picking you up again and placing you on the table. Dinner was left forgotten on the countertop as he devoured your lips, then your neck, then lower to nip at your neckline.

“Elvis,” You whimpered, “Wait.”

He stopped immediately to look at you. “Is this alright?”

“I don’t want to… not here.” You bit your lip. “Let’s go to my room.”

Elvis’ eyes widened, then went so dark they were practically black as he understood. He helped you off the table, but you led him up the stairs on shaky legs. The whole thing felt like a dream- a good dream- but the warmth of his hand in yours grounded you to reality.

Elvis was your best friend. He’d been in your room before, but suddenly the space felt smaller; more intimate. You lay back on the pale pink sheets, watching as he drew the curtains, shrouding the room in half-light.

He paused and looked at you, eyes trailing from your face all down the length of your body.

“I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

“Come kiss me.” You smiled, ignoring the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Elvis lay beside you, cradling your face in his hands before tracing his way down to the zip at the back of your dress, where he stopped again.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” He smiled, avoiding your eyes with a shy smile.

“Neither do I.” You reached behind yourself to pull the zip of your dress down, tugging at the top to reveal your bra. Elvis reached out with a shaking hand and you closed the gap, sighing as his fingers pulled you in.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

Your confidence brought a smile to Elvis’ face- a crooked, curled-lip smile that melted everything else away.

Your hands shook as you unbuttoned his shirt, peeling the army green away to reveal a body tanned from the summer and toned from years of hard work. You’d seen Elvis shirtless before- summer heat waves meant swimming down at the creek- but this was different. Slower. Your eyes could linger, hands touch every muscle, drawing ragged breaths from the back of his throat.

Elvis breathed your name as you tugged the rest of your dress away, leaving you in just your underwear.

Then you were flush together, tasting every inch of skin. Frantic. Like you’d been waiting all your lives for this moment, and now that it was here it could all be over in a flash. Elvis hissed as your fingernails dug into his back, pulling him closer to you.

“I want you. I need you.” Elvis panted, biting back more words- as if a mountain of confessions was stacked up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “Baby, tell me what you need me to do.”

You took Elvis’ hand and guided him beneath your underwear, showing him exactly where to touch. You both groaned as his finger pressed on your clit, rubbing softly at first, then hard. You cried out at the sensation, before Elvis pulled away to loop his fingers through the elastic of your panties.

“I need to see you. Please.”

At your nod, he took off your underwear and you made quick work of your bra, leaving you completely bare for him. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you, wet, gleaming, ready for him.

“How… how far do you want to go?” His eyes flicked up to yours.

“I need you in any way I can have you.” You replied.

He frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You smiled, and he was on you again, between your legs, thrusting against you through his pants. You pulled his lips down to meet yours, grinding hard together.

“Wait,” He panted, stopping your hand from undoing the button. “Just… slowly.”

He pulled back to look at you again. “I want to take my time with you. What this is… I want it to be special.”

You moved your hands to stroke the hair back from where it had fallen in his face. “Okay. Slow.”

The heat between your legs begged for more, and Elvis didn’t complain when you wrapped your thighs around him, moving your hips to meet his every thrust. Every brush against your clit had the heat pooling deeper at your core until you were throbbing, body begging for him inside you.

Elvis was listening, learning, and every time you moaned he repeated his movement, smirking against your neck when your sounds started getting louder and louder.

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes,” You panted, “Please, Elvis, I need- I need-”

He pulled back at the desperation in your voice, so new and exciting. He didn’t wait for you to finish your sentence before pulling his pants and underwear away in one swift motion, stopping to pick a condom from the wallet in his pants. You looked at him questioningly.

“They were handing them out at school, I never thought I’d use one.” Elvis chuckled, pink rushing to his cheeks. “I mean, one day, but-”

“Hurry up and put it on.” You grinned.

You’d seen a flash of Elvis’ cock just once before, earlier that night, when you’d walked in on him and started this whole thing. But now it was in full view, almost intimidatingly big as he stroked himself with practiced ease before slipping on the condom.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-”

“Please.” You were begging out loud now. “Don’t make me wait any more.”

Elvis grinned and lay between your legs, letting you adjust your hips. He sank into you slowly, as if he was waiting for a sign, for you to change your mind, or some divine intervention that never came.

You sighed as he bottomed out, rolling your hips after a moment of stillness. Elvis took that as his cue to start moving. Every slow roll of his hips brought you closer to something you’d only ever given yourself.

You’d expected sex to hurt, or at the very least be uncomfortable. That was what you’d been warned about your whole life. Yet, as Elvis moved, the only thing you could think of was the feeling, his cock inside you, and the desperate need for more.

“You okay?” He murmured, kissing your forehead.

“Yes,” you hissed with pleasure as he rolled his hips again. “You feel so good.”

Elvis shifted so his weight was on one arm, allowing the other to roam every curve of your body, from your hip to your breast, brushing over your nipple. You’d never felt safer, or more loved, and the feeling had you clenching around him. Elvis groaned and repeated the action before lowering his head to swirl his tongue around your breast, shuddering as sinful sounds echoed from your lips.

“So soft,” Elvis breathed, squeezing your hip, running a hand down your thigh, starting to move faster. “My beautiful girl.”

“Elvis,” You squeezed your eyes shut as his hand found your clit again, applying pressure exactly as you’d shown him earlier.

He kissed your eyelids. “C’mon baby, show me those pretty eyes.”

You shook your head, tugging him down for a kiss and keeping him there, clinging desperately as his hips sped up, pulling a cry from deep in your throat.

Elvis was everywhere- hot lips on your neck, cool breath in your ear, arms on either side of your head, shielding you from the rest of the world. Everything that wasn’t him, you, now.

The orgasm hit out of nowhere. One moment you were focused on the pleasure of him pounding into you, the next you were crying out. Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around his pelvis, trying to get him impossibly deeper.

The sensation pulled Elvis over the edge with you. His cock pulsed with his release as you both moaned out in raw pleasure before Elvis collapsed on top of you. You held him there, stroking his hair as you both came back down to earth.

“You’re trembling,” you murmured.

“I’ll be alright.” He placed a kiss to your collarbone. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head. “Elvis, it was perfect.”

A slow smile spread over his face as he lay his head on your chest, humming appreciatively. “So does this mean if I asked you on a date, you’d say yes?”

You snorted. “I think this means if you asked me to marry you, I’d say yes.”

“How’s next week sound?”

Your heart fluttered. “Saturday at two?”

“I’ll have my momma call the church.” Elvis chuckled, rolling and pulling you on top of him. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You bit your lip as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. After years of being so close, it was rare to see something new from Elvis, but this was. The satisfied glaze in his eyes, the easygoing smile, hair mussed in all directions, the faint sweat that covered both your bodies.

He was gorgeous.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Elvis smiled wider.

“I’m thinking, I’m the only one who’s ever seen you like this.” You caressed his cheek and he leaned into the touch with a kiss to your wrist. “I like it.”

“You’re the only one who’ll ever see me like this, baby. That’s a promise.”

#austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis imagine #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #austin!elvis smut #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc

115 notes · View notes

plainemmanem · 2 years

Note

steve thought of the day:

the group watching you bicker. they hate it cause the sexual tension is palpable 🙄

“What the hell kind of a question is that?”

“A perfectly reasonable one-“

“‘Would you still like me if I were a worm?’” Your yell echoed around the small confines of the car. “How am I even supposed to respond to that?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“With a yes or no?”

Dustin’s forehead thumped against the cool window, trying to tune out Steve’s yelling. It had been non-stop bickering ever since he got in the backseat, and he was a second away from unbuckling and jumping out of the car, concussion be damned.

“A worm? I mean, where is this coming from?”

“Oh, right. What I should’ve asked is ‘would you still like me if I were a hedgehog.’” He spit the last word like it was venom, tearing his eyes away from the road to shoot a death glare to the passenger seat.

“Jesus. You call someone a hedgehog one time-“

“How could you possibly think my spirit animal is some spiky, little, rodent, thing. It’s insulting.”

The spirit animal debate was weeks ago, but Steve was still clutching onto his bitterness, making sure to bring it up in nearly every conversation, no matter how disconnected.

“Alright, fine.” You sigh, gazing out the passenger seat window. “What do you think you are?”

“Hawk.” Steve insisted without hesitation.

“A hawk? Please.” You roll your eyes, pulling down the sun visor to catch your reflection in the mirror. You fuss with your hair a bit and rub your tongue against your top row of teeth, then lean in to pick at something between your gums.

“Yes! It’s, like, it’s got crazy good eyesight and this really cool caw, like ‘cahhhhhhh.’” he screeches, releasing the wheel and holding his hands up in faux talons.

You lean over quickly, correcting the wheel before you all swerve onto the sidewalk, making Dustin’s heart race.

“Can we please save the hawk impressions for when we’re finished driving?” Dustin shouts, expression frantic.

“Sorry, sorry, my bad.” Steve peaks back at him in the rear view with a sheepish, apologetic look, hand coming up defensively. Dustin let’s out a huff before turning to face out the window.

You can’t help but snort at the interaction, Steve shooting you another annoyed look.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the parent, here?” You mumble towards the seat next to you, finally satisfied with your reflection and flipping the visor back up before leaning back in your seat once again. A small cringe comes over your features and you reach a hand out to change the radio station, but Steve is quick to smack you away.

“I’m actually pretty maternal, thank you very much. Been thinking of getting a pet. A turtle or a lizard or something I don’t know, I haven’t decided…” His sentence trails off as he turns onto Dustin’s street.

You snort again, then give Steve a suspicious look.

“You wanna get a pet. You couldn’t even keep my houseplants alive last summer.”

“And I said I was sorry about that-“

Dustin sighed, tuning out the conversation once again to fiddle with the radio in his hands. He flipped a few switches and tweaked a few settings, preparing to connect with Suzie later on that night.

In all honesty, Dustin really liked you. You were like another babysitter, just way cooler than Steve in almost every plausible way. He’d easily picked up that you two had the hots for each other about a month after you met, though he still has no idea how Steve’s tricked you into liking him in the first place. The next few months had been near constant attempts to set you up - for almost a year and a half - to no avail. You could never agree on anything. It’s almost as if you craved the fighting; like you guys enjoyed the weird tension that formed during every petty back-and-forth.

Again, Dustin really did like you, just not when you were bickering with Steve, which seemed to be almost all the time recently. It’s only a matter of time before the dam breaks and the younger boy can only pray he’s able to take cover when you two start sucking face.

He still thinks you could do better.

“Ok, ok fine. But what about my Songs From The Big Chair tape?” His lips press into a thin line and his eyebrows nearly touch hairline, fingers taping on the wheel anxiously.

The song on the radio was slowly reaching its crescendo, forcing Steve to raise his voice a light louder, talk a little higher, to get his point across. Dustin reached for the window, hoping to find a reprieve in the cool afternoon air, only to be stopped by the child safety locks… Stupid Steve.

“Uh, guys? Could we possibly turn down the radi-“

“No!” You and Steve both shout in unison, twisting your heads to give him annoyed expressions before turning back around.

“Honestly, I still don’t feel any remorse over your soft, baby tape. I mean Tears For Fears? Seriously? If anything, I did you a favor.” You reach for the window, now flushed from your squabbling, also finding it locked. You heave a sigh and slowly start loosening your seatbelt to lean across the center console. Now hovering a centimeter over Steve’s lap, you reach to flip the window lock on the driver’s side door.

The blush on Steve’s face was so bright, it could be seen in the rear view mirror, and all Dustin could do was sigh, resting his head against his palm and praying that the ride would be over soon.

“Well- hey, watch it- Well, sorry I don’t listen to your satanic metal music-“

“Oh, come on. You don’t actually believe in all that stuff, do you?”

“No, no, of course not. It’s just-“

“The only reason you don’t like my ‘satanic metal music’ is because Eddie listens to it.”

“Please.” He scoffs, trying to seem nonchalant. “Like I care what that freak listens to-“

“Eddie is not a freak. He’s actually cool. Unlike you.”

He mumbles to himself, lips barely moving, “Oh yeah, why don’t you marry him then?”

“What was that?” You quirk your eyebrow, assuming Steve’s murmur was some sort of taunt.

“Nope, nothing. Love the guy.” His expression is flurried and distracted as he scans the street for Dustin’s house.

“Right. Well, if you’re so cool, name one cool person you hang out with.”

Steve opened his mouth a little too quickly.

“And you can’t say Dustin.”

His mouth snaps closed just as fast. A chuckle leaves you at his deflated look.

Steve’s mouth opens again, as if he was ready to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words.

“U- uh- Um. Ah! Brenda Still!” He nods sagely.

A laugh shakes the car, your body doubling over.

“Brenda Still? Brenda fucking Still? Steve, your mom would have been a better choice!” You wheeze, wiping a stray tear from your eye.

“What?” His hands and shoulders go up frantically, his voice defensive. “Brenda’s totally cool! You don’t think she’s cool?”

“Um. No, Steve, I definitely do not think Brenda Still is considered cool.”

“Why not?”

“Ummm, maybe because you suggested a high school basketball game as your first date, and she agreed.” You give him a look as if it were obvious.

“Ok, it was Lucas’s championship game. You thought I was gonna miss that?”

His sincerity makes you chuckle, and you look back out the window to hide it.

There was a beat of charged silence. Dustin could feel the tension in the air. Steve was quick to shatter it.

“Like your dates are any better…” He was mumbling again, but you could hear him loud and clear. Steve wanted to rile you up.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, fast food and a late night showing of Porky’s, seriously?”

“Leo was actually very sweet-“

“Or what about- what was his name again? Oh- Bobbie the Bowling King? I mean, come on? What kind of a name is Bobbie, anyways? And he wouldn’t even let you win-”

“Hey, he was very competitive!”

“Oh, oh, right! Or my personal favorite: Johnny ‘Slick’ Tucker. One kiss and he nearly jizzed his pants, if I remember correctly-“

“Hey!” You smack his arm, making him shield himself with a chuckle and a cocky smirk. “I told you that in confidence!”

“Jeez, you sure do know how to pick ‘em. Where are you finding these guys, anyways?”

“What? Think you could do a better job?” You side eye him curiously, testing the waters.

Steve nods his head resolutely, closing in on Dustin’s house.

“Uhhhh, yeah. Definitely. There’s been at least ten girls this week that have been begging me to take them out-“

“Ten girls? Seems pretty steep.”

“Well, I’m a master at my craft.”

“Right. Lemme guess. Dinner and a scary movie. You do the arm over the shoulder trick and feel her up in the back row. Then a romantic drive to Lover’s Lake and a quick boink in the backseat.” Steve pulls into Dustin’s driveway, keeping the poor boy captive until the doors are unlocked.

“Ok, don’t say ‘boink,’ that’s disgustin-“ He puts it in park and turns his sole focus onto you, completely forgetting Dustin.

“Well, what would you like me to call it?” You lean in just a tad, daring him.

“I dunno… ‘Lovemaking?’” He copies your movements, eyes scanning from your eyes, raking down to your lips. He wets his own with a quick swipe of his tongue.

You chuckle.

“‘Lovemaking?’ You’ve gotta be kidding-“

The distance between you keeps shrinking and Dustin is not prepared to see what comes next.

“Guys, can we please stop talking about Steve’s sex life? Or at least wait til I’m out of the car?” His voice is fearful and frantic, popping the tense bubble you two had formed in the front.

You both mumbled simultaneous agreements.

“Sure, yeah-“

“Fine, fine. Whatever.”

There’s a heated glance shared between you two, annoyed with something a little flirty hidden just below the surface. It’s gone as soon as it came, and Steve’s quickly reaching for the button to unlock the doors, gaze never leaving yours.

Dustin hops out in a rush, offering a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut. There’s still the faint sound of bickering as he walks around the car and up the walkway.

“Steve, can we get ice cream?”

“Oh yeah! Sure! With what money? You’re practically eating me out of house and home with how much damn ice cream you beg me fo-“

“Jesus, Steve, you act like you’re not completely loaded-“

“Well, I was, before you started asking for ice cream every time the temperature goes above sixty degrees-“

“Oh, please. Don’t even act like you don’t enjoy my company.”

“Fine… You’re right.”

“Yeah. I’m always right, hon.”

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington

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darthpastry · 5 months

Note

please share your head canons about ness and vanessa being siblings

Mainly centered around Ness, but oh well.

Ness is actually Vanessa’s older brother, got disowned by William because he pretended to be a complete airhead and William fell for it. In reality, it was his plan to get disowned because investigating the MCI was a lot safer, albeit harder, when he wasn’t so close to William. Either that or he ran away.

If he ran away, he and Vanessa ended up meeting at the diner and ended up arguing about Ness running away, but eventually they both just pushed that whole thing to the side because they knew it would never get resolved and didn't want to be bitter. Vanessa is still bitter, of course, but she's mainly happy to be in contact with her brother again and glad he didn't have to live with William for as long.

He works as a waiter to make ends meet, but also has a tumblr blog full of conspiracies on the franchise. Both William and Vanessa know about the blog. William is enraged and has Vanessa keep tabs on the blog and the accounts engaging with it but has no idea who runs it.

Vanessa knows it’s her brother and occasionally had to pull Looney Tunes style stunts to keep William from finding that out. She’s tried to get Ness to stop, but he just went on a passionate ramble about “spreading the truth” and she gave up.

He also just lurks around Freddy's night; he memorized where all the cameras are when he was a kid, so he knows how to avoid them. Vanessa regularly comes to Freddy's, not just because she's supposed to keep an eye on the night guards, but also to drag Ness out of there and keep him from stealing a pizza oven or something. Of course, Vanessa never mentions this to Mike because who knows who know who he'll tell?

She comes to Sparky's at least once a week to give Ness a new spiel about how dangerous this whole thing is (because that's better than giving up like I originally said). One time she said everyone thought he was insane, making it pointless. He threw diet coke at her and immediately apologized before saying "but the sentiment behind it still stands."

At some point, despite being smug about still sneaking in, he starts bringing her dinner because "he's worried about his little sister" and in between night guards they'll sometimes sit and chat because Vanessa knows it's the one way to stop him from sneaking around. Ness knows that it's the one way he's guaranteed to stay inside.

He comes up with overcomplicated plans to get in and out of the pizzeria, staying safe while being able to look for clues. He swears he saw an animatronic move, but Vanessa gaslighted him until he became convinced the pizza ovens were the key to solving everything.

They do both care about each other but have a hard time communicating that due to William's a+ parenting and all. Vanessa mainly shows it by trying to steer Ness away from the pizzeria and Ness mainly shows it by making sure Vanessa has food since she often forgets to eat dinner. He'll either bring it to the pizzeria or leave it at the police supply station (the one where Vanessa treated Mike's injury).

It's generally a sandwich because, while he has mastered the art of sandwiches, Ness can't cook to save his life. He once almost burned down the house trying to boil water for pasta because he heard that putting oil in the water was a good idea, they still have no idea how that resulted in such a large fire. Also, sandwiches are simply easier for both of them.

He did end up traumatizing Vanessa at a fairly young age when he figured out that most of her toys belonged to dead children and she found his "evidence notebooks".

Ness also dropped out of drama club after deciding to investigate the MCI. Hardest decision he ever made, and he still has some regrets about it to this day. Fortunately, he still spreads theater kid energy in every way he can.

Someone sent in an ask with the blurriest photo ever and he had an absolute field day and ended up talking about "this random blog he came across" to every guest at the diner for weeks. Only reason he keeps his identity private is because that's why he wanted to get away from William in the first place and he does have some self-preservation instincts. Everyone thinks he’s a little crazy, but in an affectionate way. A lot of people see his blog as a joke, but still enjoy it.

He traumatizes anyone visiting the town of new to the diner at all by rambling about the pizzeria, but everyone who knows him is just like “oh, haha, classic Ness.”

I'll probably have more headcanons later, I'm actually working on a fic about this concept lol.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #fnaf movie spoilers #ness fnaf #ness the waiter #fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly #vanessa afton #fnaf headcanons #headcanon #my headcanons #hcs #headcanons #ask #ask box

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3terna15unshin3 · 10 months

Text

Then Because She Goes

Will you stay or wait?

★ Chapter 15 of 15, 8147 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: !!! mature content, minors please do not interact !!!, smut, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, alcohol consumption

<< 14

12 August, 2022

With his hands rummaging through the plastic bag that had been sitting near his feet for the whole road trip, Matty searched for an empty bottle. He had downed one of Coke about an hour in, so he knew it should be in there—he just couldn’t seem to find it amongst the rest of the rubbish.

“You’re not weeing in my fucking car, Matty!” exclaimed Este, attempting to keep her eyes on the road but ultimately being drawn away into the man-child sitting next to her and all of his antics.

Matty continued sifting through the bag, ignoring her protests. “Please, it’s not like I’m gonna piss on your floor. And I’ve done it plenty of times before, so my aim is pretty good—Oh! Here it is,”

The Coke bottle from earlier found itself in his hands, preparing to be unscrewed. Matty had been complaining about his full bladder for the past half hour and the next place for Este to stop wasn’t for another 15 minutes. As soon as the make-shift toilet came into her view, she grabbed it and threw it over her shoulder and into the back seat. It bounced around and landed on the floor, out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, Este hoped.

“Love! What was that for?!”

“Grow up and hold it in for a couple more minutes.” Este threatened, reaching to turn down the radio’s volume before studying their surroundings in her mirrors and making a risky lane-change. Matty smiled at her habit of needing to quiet down her surroundings in order to focus.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Dunno if I can,”

Her eyes rolled at him. “You’re going to have to.” She said sternly.

“Well, then drive faster!”

Trying to listen to his girlfriend’s orders, Matty laced his fingers together and politely sat his hands on his lap. Focus, Matty, he thought to himself. His leg bounced up and down feverishly, to distract from the pain in his abdomen.

They sat in silence for the last stretch of the road, with Este’s eyes set on the GPS that guided her, and Matty squirming in the passenger’s seat. He kept complaining; and she tuned him out playfully. At one point, he even began undoing the zipper to his trousers, pretending to use Este’s car as a toilet instead of waiting for them to arrive at the petrol station. Matty wouldn’t actually do it, and just wanted to make her laugh. It did—though she didn’t like to admit it.

When they did arrive, he barely let Este put the gear into park before he burst out of the door and ran into the Shell while she refilled the tank.

“All good now.” Matty said when he came back, smiling widely. “No bottle of piss for you today,” They high-fived in silly celebration.

“I think I didn’t want you to wee in here because I’m just jealous. Not even because I think it’s gross.” admitted Este, laughing as she spoke. “I like, anatomically, could not even pee in a bottle if I tried. We’d have to pull over and find a bush for me to squat in.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s one of the many perks of having a dick,”

“Many?” She gave him the side-eye.

His brows wiggled suggestively. “You know…”

“Shut up.”

A few more moments of navigating led Este and Matty to where they were staying for the next two nights. It was a quaint Airbnb—away from the hustle and bustle of the city, which they didn’t mind, since they’d driven up and could easily use Este’s car to get around. They pulled into its driveway and admired the summer Manchester flora that heaped around the brick walls, surprised at how charming the fairly cheap listing had paid off in person.

Matty brought in their bags while Este creeped around lightly, peeking around every corner and touching things with a gentle hand. She explored as if what she was discovering could break just by looking at it too hard. Her feet trod quietly through the kitchen, into the lounge where the sofa looked particularly comfortable, and then up to the bedroom; where he caught her.

“Is there a reason why you’re walking around like a small Victorian child who has heard a noise in the middle of the night?” He asked, mocking her playfully as he sat on the bed next to his bag.

Este laughed at his tireless description of the timidness that washed over her the minute they entered the house. “I don’t know. It’s not my house—I’m not going to just barge in and throw myself about. I want to be a good guest. You know how I am,”

“I mean, you don’t have to ‘throw yourself about’, but you also don’t have to lift the toilet seat as if there’s some sort of punishment if you let it make a noise,” said Matty.

“You saw that?” Embarrassment was laced through her voice.

“Mm-hmm,” he confirmed, chuckling, “It was very cute though.”

She cringed and sat next to him. Matty’s hand found her thigh that brushed against his as their weight made the mattress cave in a bit. “It’s weird to pay to stay in someone else’s place in a city that feels like home, you know?” Este explained, leaning her head on his shoulder.

The past three years she had spent living in London didn’t waiver her Manchester pride. Este loved being a Londoner—the city was fruitful and ever-changing. It was the hub of her passions and the home of her favourite person. But, it didn’t fret her homesickness from being present; encouraging her and Matty to travel back to their hometown quite frequently. Mostly to visit Este’s parents, or Cate and Georgia.

This time around, they drove up to the North of England to celebrate with the latter couple at their housewarming party. Este was meant to come into the city earlier to help pack up the flat and move everything to their new place, but she was swamped with a head-cold so bad that her weekly column submission was almost submitted late. And it was never late.

It took almost two and a half years to work her way up to writing full pieces for The Guardian. Este spent a long time doing odd jobs and minor assistant editing before eventually getting promoted to co-writing some fluffy pieces with a team full of other writers. But then, at the beginning of the year, she was encouraged to join their literature review group. So now—every Wednesday—Este was a published and working literary journalist. Constantly reading books, and taking whoever flipped open The Guardian through the journey that each novel took her on. It was the second reason she couldn’t bear to leave London permanently; since being close to its headquarters and to where business flourished made work the easiest. The first was Matty, of course.

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually.” he started. “How it’s silly to come here so often and have to arrange a place to stay each time. Maybe we should just get a place here already,”

His suggestion intrigued her. Este liked the idea of having a home in both cities. “Like a little flat, or something?”

“Yeah, if we can find a good one. Just for us.”

“I’m in.”

The shower was cramped and its water pressure was next to non-existent, but alas; both Matty and Este had washed up in preparation for the party that evening. His curls hung damp and defined, while her hair stayed spun into a towel. They got ready—taking their sweet time and dawdling around—content to be doing any mundane task while having one another to do it with.

Both of them learned to appreciate the domestic side of being together after Este moved into Matty’s cold and rigid home, ultimately warming it up with the tenderness of her belongings and maximalist aesthetic. They met in the middle, somehow, and his home—now theirs—couldn’t be more reflective of their personalities. Living together was a challenge almost as identically as being apart was. But it was worth it.

Matty showered before her, so he sat on the bed and slid his party clothing over his towel-dried skin as Este emerged from the toilet. She let her raven hair free and tumble in wet gatherings near her face; still not dressed, and looking as if she wasn’t ever planning to do so.

A pair of cream boy short style knickers hugged her hips and a matching bralette supported her upper half. Este sauntered past him and sat at the wooden vanity where she had emptied all of her beauty products onto when unpacking. Matty’s eyes tracked her movements.

He didn’t say anything, at first. Just continued to button his shirt and fold up its sleeves while she started to put on some makeup. She opened and closed every product, Matty still watching, while delicately bouncing her fingertips to her cheeks and combing mascara through her long lashes. Este could feel his eyes burning into her skin—knowing that he was studying her summer tan that stood bolder next to her pale undergarments, and appreciating the rosiness she added to her face.

“What are you wearing? For tonight?” Matty asked after sensing that she was wrapping up at the vanity.

Este looked at him through his reflection in the mirror, smiling. “I brought a dress, it’s hung up in the closet since I didn’t want it to crease. The blue one.”

She tried to explain which one she was talking about, but since she was in need of putting it on anyway, she just got up to go fetch it. Matty took her spot in the now vacant chair, to lean forward and use the vanity’s lights to figure out his hair. He considered taking a dollop of gel and combing it back for the convenience, but he knew that Este liked when it came to the front and framed his forehead. And Matty liked doing things the way she liked them. So, he left it alone.

“See?” Stepping back into view, Este held the blue garment up in front of her barely clothed body for him to judge. He nodded and looked it up and down. There was a moment of silence as she waited for Matty to voice his approval. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice.”

She dramatically dropped her free hand down to her side. “Nice? That’s all?” The other threw the hanger and dress flat onto the bed.

His hand waved her over, silently asking for her to step closer to him—and once she was in reach, Matty hooked his finger into the waistband of her underwear to pull and close the gap between them, wrapping his arm around the skin of her waist. He met her gaze, needing to tilt his head upwards since he was still sat on the vanity chair and was eye-level with her abdomen.

“I was just sort of hoping you’d look like this all night,”

As she felt the warmth of his hand graze back and forth across her spine, Este reached down to stick her own into his still damp curls. “Well, get your mind out of the gutter then.” He leaned back into her touch. “Plus, I know you couldn’t stand anyone else seeing me in this besides you.” The suggestive smirk could be heard in her voice.

Matty laughed and raised his eyebrows in agreement. “That’s a good point.”

She was about to take a seat on his lap; but her ringtone interrupted the thought. Both of their heads turned to where the sound came from, quickly realising that Este was getting a call. He laid a quick peck on her hip bone before she stepped away to answer it.

The call was switched to speakerphone after she read who was on the other end. “Lolo, hi.” greeted Este. “We haven’t even been away from her for half a day and you’re calling already? Should I be worried?”

“No, no. Nothing to worry about. We’re having fun together so far!” José explained. “I just wanted to make sure the car journey went alright.”

“Yeah, everything is good. Made it over in one piece. We’re going to leave for Cate’s in maybe an hour or so.” Este put her phone down to remove the dress from its hanger and slip it onto her body, while walking back to Matty and turning around to let him zip her up. It sat on her effortlessly and served as the perfect casual summery outfit; while still fitting for the late night out they had ahead of them.

“Tell her and G I say congrats on the house.” A bark was heard in the background. “From me and Keiko,” he finished with a chuckle.

José called from Matty and Este’s London house, staying over while they were away and looking after the puppy. Keiko (their four month old German Shepherd whose name came from the quirky Convenience Store Woman character that held precious memories for them both) erupted in more excitable barks through the phone after hearing her name.

“I will. She’s doing okay, yeah?” asked Este.

“Of course. But I’m sure she misses you guys. Right, Keiko? Where’d mummy and daddy go?” he started, egging the clueless pup on, and making the two on the phone to cringe at his choice of nicknames. “I’m also a bit worried that I’ve been giving her too many treats.”

Este’s eyes widened. “How many have you given her?!”

She put on a pair of black boots, while Matty held up his two shoe options. Her finger pointed to the black Converse out of instinct—always loving the classic shoe on her boyfriend as opposed to something dressier. He agreed and began undoing their laces.

“She’s just being a good puppy and I want her to know that,” her granddad responded defensively. “Your Lola would have been way worse than me. She’d give in and let Keiko walk her down the street instead of the other way round. So you should be thankful it’s just me,”

The conversation made Matty laugh; both of nervousness, for the well-being of his dog at home, and also of pure adoration for José. What a legend.

“Can I have the phone, love?” he asked, before Este handed it to him and watched him bring it close to his mouth. “Hey. It’s Matty. I like spoiling her too, Lolo. Don’t worry. I get it.” Matty said in a hushed voice.

Her jaw dropped open and the two men rejoiced, both basking in their soft spots for Keiko. “Don’t enable him.” scolded Este. She tried to be angry, but she loved them too bad to care all that much.

They took an Uber to the party after considering that they’d probably have too many drinks to be able to sober up and drive back. And as the city zoomed past them, they watched it through the backseat windows—both fantasising about their hypothetical second house in their second home. What it would look like, where in Manchester it would sit. Each of them pointed at different buildings periodically, pitching their favourites to the other. “Those ones seem too modern from the outside,” or ”This area’s rubbish,” or “Are you serious? Would you live there?” were a few short phrases exchanged between them.

The happy couple in their new house greeted Matty and Este with excited hugs. In the corner, on a sofa and catching up with the other parents, sat Este’s mother and father. Cate insisted on inviting them to give her own parents some company; the pair growing close after her and Este’s long friendship. It was a bit embarrassing for Este to learn that her parents had beaten her there, but she was also happy to see them and be able to give them a squeeze.

“There you guys are! We’ve been waiting for you!” said Este’s dad, giving Matty a firm handshake and then wrapping his arms around his daughter. A series of small hi’s and hello’s were thrown around the room as the lively music filled the air.

Percy planted a firm kiss into Matty’s cheek and followed suit with Este’s. “How’s Keiko doing back at home?“ she wondered.

“I think she’s pretty good so far,” responded Matty, “José’s spoiling her rotten—but we were expecting that. Just miss her already, don’t we E?” He rubbed her hip with the hand that was draped around her.

Este nodded with a pout on her face, thinking about their puppy and how badly protective they were of her. “100%. Should’ve brought her here and let her christen the new house by weeing all over your floor!” she joked.

“You wouldn’t dare,” sneered Cate as Georgia shoved a G&T and glass of red wine into their hands almost immediately, eager to get the night started.

“This is my favourite room in the whole house, E. Look. You’ll love it. I think of you every time I step inside,” the redhead declared as she led the two around for a tour. “It’s not totally finished, but you’ll get it.”

A twist of the doorknob showed them the home office. Cate and Georgia had put together every book they owned and shelved them charismatically. They surrounded the window, framed the desks, and sat in piles on the floor. Greenery of all sorts sat on top of them, and even hung from the ceiling. The rug was warm and welcoming. It was almost as if they captured all of Este’s favourite things and stuck them within the same walls. She could only imagine how lively it must look in the sunlight.

“God, guys! This is lovely,” Matty gushed. “You shouldn’t have shown it to us, though. I think Este will just be mad that I haven’t let her decorate our whole house like this.”

The look on her face confirmed his comment, as Este sheepishly stared. “Can I move in?” Everyone laughed.

Making their way back to where all of the guests remained—mingling and chatty—Georgia poured them another. Matty bopped his head excitedly at the tasteful music and the loud conversation continued. Smiles were bright. The drinks were drank. But as the hour grew late, only the guests who were up for a fun night stuck around; while the few who stopped by to see the house and congratulate the couple began to fizzle out.

So, Este’s parents started to bid their goodbyes. They were planning on making a trip down to London to meet Keiko soon enough, so parting wasn’t as difficult as usual. Some last embraces were squeezed in as they prepared to take off, but before they could, the song erupting from the speakers caught Matty’s attention and encouraged him to hold Percy’s arm back for a moment.

“I don’t know what it is that you’ve done to me,”

SWV’s velvety vocals sung their classic song, Weak, and since Matty had always bonded with Este’s mother over their love for 90’s R&B, he couldn’t let her slip out before dancing with him first. She smiled giddily and took his hand as he guided her to an open space in the kitchen. Their socks on the spick and span tile allowed them to move freely, swaying and tapping their feet to the beat. He twirled Percy around, raising her hand that lightly gripped his up above her head.

They took turns serenading the lyrics to each other, Matty’s eyebrows furrowed with passion, fingers still laced together. Laughter was shared between them whenever the other did a particularly funny dance move or embarrassingly messed up the words. The smiles never left their faces, while Alfonso and Este watched from the door, smiling likewise.

“Can’t explain why your love, it makes me weak.” sounded the final line of the tune, Matty diverting his attention back at his girl as he sang it quietly. He sent a quick wink Este’s way afterwards, making her roll her eyes initially, but inevitably forcing a wide grin out of her while her stomach fluttered. Percy watched silently as her and Matty’s brief kitchen dance party came to an end, heart warm with adoration, physically feeling the love he had for her daughter—and vice versa. With her hand now folded in Alfonso’s, the couple wrapped up with a new round of goodbyes, and Cate showed them out.

When a handful more of drinks were eventually downed, it was shocking to suddenly hear the conversation turn professional. Cate found herself sitting next to Matty, her current higher up (the new album called for some extra brains for art direction and graphic design—so onto the team she came), discussing the importance of typography.

“I really like the idea of keeping the really simple and sophisticated serif text, even with tour merch. It’s chic.” she rambled.

He nodded, agreeing. “It’ll fit with the aesthetic, for sure. I did want to incorporate a couple of more grungier designs though. Maybe something hand-drawn or messy. More abstract, maybe.”

“Sure, sure. That makes sense to me. Patty may have some good material for those types of designs. A good balance between both should work out well, since—”

“You know you guys aren’t on the clock, right?” Este butted in, taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

Cate snapped out of it and her cheeks grew rosy. “Sorry,” she apologised, “But honestly, the North American tour starts in less than 3 months, and what’s already done for the singles and for festival season won’t even fill half of a headline merch table… So we’ve gotta crack on with it asap.”

“Then talk about it when you’re sitting in an office and can click around on your iPad, not when you’re pissed off champagne and hosting a house party!” exclaimed Georgia. The small circle of guests erupted in chuckled at her fair point. “I bet you two couldn’t quit the work-talk for more than 45 minutes,”

Matty raised his hands in the air defensively. “Hey, my work is my life. You know that, Georgia.” he said with a grossly confident and purposefully pretentious tone.

She rolled her eyes in response. “God, you’re the worst.” But, her hard and sarcastic facade broke when the two erupted into smiles and shoved one another in the shoulder gleefully. “Speaking of work though, why didn’t you bring any of the guys along? Don’t think I’ve seen them since we came down for Este’s birthday. Shame,”

“They’re all very busy boys,” answered Este. “And were gutted that they couldn’t make it tonight.”

Matty nodded, wrapping his arm behind Este’s shoulders and letting his hand find the back of her neck. His fingers weaved through the hair that covered it to gently caress the soft skin right below her scalp.

“They usually jump at the chance to come up to the city whenever they’re given a reason, so I guess they just don’t like you lot enough…” he joked.

“You better watch yourself, Healy. G might cut you off if you keep at it.” warned Cate humourously.

The warm conversation continued, though the couple of the night left frequently to mingle with the other guests. Any time it was just Matty and Este—when they knew nobody’s eyes were on them—he snuck small kisses onto the skin behind her ear. She sat her palm dangerously high up on his thigh, making her giggle after seeing how quickly his muscles tensed in reaction. The alcohol helped escalate the heat between them; but also allowed them to cool off almost immediately whenever Cate and Georgia ducked back into their attention.

Despite their consistent touchiness that persisted even through the Uber journey back to the Airbnb, they passed out cold as soon as they squeezed into the double bed that wasn’t theirs. The fact that they never seemed to party as crazy as they expected themselves to became increasingly frequent. Este liked to make fun of his age, always teasing that he had been handling his alcohol worse and worse (and going to bed earlier and earlier) as he progressed into his thirties; though she only trailed a couple years behind. So, Matty rolled his eyes when they snuggled tightly into the white sheets—both on the extremely tired comedown of being tipsy—and Este interrupted the silence filling the room.

“Is grandfather too sleepy or can I give you a kiss goodnight?

“Not after calling me grandfather, you can’t.”

13 August, 2022

Este awoke early the next morning, and Matty followed not long afterwards. He was still snoring when she first looked over at him, eyes peacefully shut and mouth slightly agape.

When she scooted upwards—now sitting with her back against the headboard—to scroll away on her phone, he felt her movements and internally whined at their lessening contact. To gain the comfort he craved at the start of each day, he rolled over to her and nestled his cheek next to her arm. Este quietly chuckled at his neediness and pulled her arm away; but only to use her hand to pet the stubble growing on his jaw, moving slowly up and down then back up into his messy hair.

Stopping for a second to quickly push her own hair to one side, not liking the sensation of it crowding her neck, she heard a low hum from Matty. He was clearly enjoying her touch.

“Morning, love.” said Este.

He groaned with exhaustion as a response, throwing his arm around her lap.

“You sleep okay?”

His eyes still hadn’t opened. “Surprisingly very well.” Matty squeezed out of his dry throat, words coming through with a low rasp.

She set her phone back onto the bedside table to give him her full attention. “Me too. I think it’s the tiny bed—forced us to cram closer together, and you keep me warm. Maybe we should downsize at home,” Este suggested, half-joking.

An eye finally peeled open, and then the other, and he saw her for the first time that morning. Este’s untamed hair was his favourite, immediately studying its waves and smiling to himself.

“It was cosy,” agreed Matty, sitting up to match her position, “Don’t you like having more room, though, You know, for other things?”

There was a twinkle in his eye, and a tone in his voice that she could recognise anywhere. So, she egged him on.

“Like… What kinds of things?”

Matty suddenly felt very awake. “Just the things I dreamt about last night,” he teased.

One step ahead of him, Este swiftly swung her leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Then tell me about them.”

He had the feeling she didn’t want him to actually tell her anything, as the very moment her words slipped out, Este’s mouth was on his. Slow, and gentle. Her hands cupped either side of Matty’s jaw, while his grazed under the hem of her shirt and felt up her back. She moaned into his mouth at his tender touch—rolling her hips back and forth lazily.

Matty peeled off the oversized tee that covered her, leaving only the thin cloth of his briefs and the lace of her knickers between their bodies. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see her grinding into him while he pulled his lips away from hers. Mouth wide and jaw slack, whining. He throbbed at the sight of it.

The feeling of his eyes on her turned Este on. How they were glued to her in a daze, with pure voyeuristic pleasure, as if it was the first time they were laid on her. She wanted to please Matty. Put on a show. So that he wouldn’t dare look away.

To do just that, Este continued using his crotch to get herself off, the bulge in his pants making perfect contact with her still clothed clit. She steadied herself—hand on the headboard—and whispered his name with desire while Matty’s hands inched forward to work at her chest. Her hardened nipples rolled between his fingers, making her shiver.

Reconnecting their lips, he slipped his tongue against hers while her hand trailed down the centre of his chest. It moved painfully slowly. But soon enough, Este took her hand into his underwear, gripping him boldly. The friction between them left him hard, and leaking. Matty gasped and shuddered when she pumped him a couple of times.

“Baby—“ he said against her mouth, his words hesitating to let a groan lowly, “The sheets. Will we have time to run the laundry before we have to leave?”

“They’ll wash ‘em.” Este threw out the short response, her head hazy and preoccupied with determination.

“What happened to wanting to be a ‘good guest’?” he taunted.

She climbed down his torso to slip his only piece of clothing down his legs, and he helped by kicking them off.

“Oh I’m a good guest alright,” she defended, kissing his upper thigh and still stroking his cock, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you nice and clean,”

Matty twitched at her words, not getting the time to think before her lips sunk down on him. He held himself up by his elbows, the muscles in his stomach making it hard to stay steady.

She took him in liberally, her nose almost coming in contact with his pelvis as he hit the back of her throat. “Fuck,” he moaned, watching Este’s eyes lock with his as she looked up through her eyelashes.

Swallowing around him and beginning to bob her head up and down, she squeezed her legs together. It grew increasingly wet in her panties, as she tasted Matty’s precum and witnessed his face twist in euphoria. A moan escaped and vibrated over him when she attempted at relieving some pressure by rolling her hips down onto the bed.

Este found a lazy rhythm, teasing him cruelly, making his hips rise with eagerness. Every time he buckled upward and his length grazed her throat, she moaned, driving Matty even crazier.

His chest heaved up and down when she pulled back, swirling her tongue around his tip, and using her hand to stroke his shaft. Este could see his eyes squeeze shut, brows furrowed in pain as she took him deeper once again.

“Stop,” Matty begged, “I don’t want to come alone,”

She didn’t protest. He dragged Este back up to straddle above his cock and kiss her hungrily, her face messy with spit, lips swollen from sucking him. His hand then found her clit, rubbing with perfect speed and pressure, drawing pornographic sounds out of her mouth.

“Matty,” she praised.

“Are you this wet just from taking me in your mouth?” Matty whispered against the skin on her neck. He licked and nipped at it, surely leaving a mark. The taste of what was left of last night’s perfume transferred onto his tongue.

“Always, for you,” Her voice was breathy and desperate. She couldn’t stand another minute of being empty, clenching greedily around nothing. “Just fuck me already.”

Este’s command had him obeying immediately, guiding his tip to her entrance and allowing her to slowly sink down onto him. His mouth fell open, feeling the tightness of her cunt envelope him in pleasure.

She sat there for a second, eyes shut in concentration. Matty filled her up graciously and hit every spot just the way she needed. Raising back up, then lowering down, Este began riding his length with her knees buried in the sheets. She rested her palms onto his inked torso to stabilise herself and persist at her skilled movements.

Matty watched her chest bounce repeatedly and bit his lip at the view he had from beneath her. The pink started shining through on Este’s cheeks, face hot and flushed from the pressure building in her lower stomach. Her skin glistened and was sticky to the touch. So was his. She brought up a hand to comb the hair out of her face, leaving it there and tugging at her own locks near her scalp.

“You look so fucking good—feel so fucking good,” Matty intensely complimented, through a groan, seeing her smile briefly and open her eyes to gaze down at him.

She felt her climax building as she continued using him to fuck herself. Este brought her right hand up to her clit, indulging in as much pleasure as possible to bring her there. Her pace was sufficient, especially for Matty—who sat, fucked out and a moaning mess below her—but Este wanted more. So, she began speeding up, still fingering furiously at her bundle of nerves, pushing hard and panting.

Wanting to make her feel good and give her knees a rest, Matty wrapped his arms around her to make her hips stationary. And without warning, he fucked upwards. Repeatedly, and relentlessly.

“Shit,” Este cried, “Keep going.”

He listened, twitching inside of her as he chased his orgasm too. The sound of his hips snapping up into hers boomed loudly through the room; now full of hot breath and the smell of sex.

Este gasped as he hit a spot deep within her that sent rushes of unwavering pleasure through every inch of her body, over and over. The combination of that and her fingers on her clit sent her over the edge, chanting a string of Matty’s name sensually into his ear, along with every word of profanity her mind brushed by.

She shuddered on top of him, beginning to go limp with exhaustion, but Matty didn’t stop. There was no chance for her to come down from her orgasm when his thrusts only grew harder and deeper.

His lip remained pinned between his teeth, pain written all over his face. With Este’s face now buried in his neck, overwhelmed by the sheer bliss of her climax and how Matty’s cock incessantly pounded into her sensitive post-orgasm core, he shut his eyes to bask in the sensation.

Every stroke brought him closer, and it grew harder and harder to keep up at his pace. Matty felt her tighten around him, making his thrusts grow distraught.

“I’m gonna come, E,” he muttered, voice shaky.

But right before he could (she knew his body so well that he didn’t even have to warn her for her to know), Este pulled off of him, springing downwards to take his whole length past her lips.

The sudden warmth of her slick mouth and vibration of the hum she expelled had Matty coming up her throat. She rose to let it spill onto her tongue, letting him watch the cum string out of his tip; but quickly closed her lips around him again, sinking back down and bottoming out.

Este kept him there for a couple of seconds as his moans slowed to a stop and he caught his breath. Then, she tightly pulled her lips off of his cock—cleaning up his seed, and swallowing it as promised.

“See? No mess.” Este said, a sheepish yet exhausted look on her face.

Matty forced her back up to lay on his chest, bringing her in for one last sloppy kiss. She tasted like him.

They then forced themselves out of bed, for the first time yet that day, to wash up and gather their things for the eleven o’clock checkout time. The shower ran only once, to bathe them both and save time, followed by Matty stuffing his dirty clothes back into his duffle bag. He then flipped on the kettle and sunk some pieces of bread into the toaster while Este pottered around, trying to leave the house exactly how they found it.

Matty carefully spread a thin layer of butter and then another of Marmite on each slice, setting aside two for Este and nibbling on the remaining two himself. They’d initially been rushing, thinking that what they had left to sort would take a while, but their single night in the Airbnb remained a fairly simple and effortless stay. There was still over an hour before they had to be out. So, Matty pulled open the book he was reading, actively trying to do so instead of spiralling on Instagram or chatting shit on Twitter (as of lately).

He waited for Este, assuming she’d hear the kettle go off and join him at the small kitchen table, but her footsteps creaked on the floor between the bedroom and through to the toilet instead of coming nearer.

“Darling, you should eat,” called Matty, listening for her response. He knew that by this time of the morning she’d be hungry.

Este’s ears perked, grabbing one last used flannel and throwing it into the dirty laundry hamper. Her empty stomach drew her round the few corners to reach the kitchen from the bedroom, seeing Matty sat with one leg folded over the other. He sipped on his tea, flipping a page to his novel, then felt her come into view.

She smiled at the small plate and cup of tea he arranged for her. “Look at you, making me toast.”

Matty chuckled, watching her take a bite. He then uncrossed his legs, welcoming Este to reach one of hers from her own chair and drape it across his. Crunches of toast could be heard, along with the swipes of his fingers across the pages of Mayflies.

“How’re you finding it?”

“It’s a beaut, so far. Feels sort of silly reading about stupid young lads causing trouble round Manchester. Bit too familiar. It’s like reading a caricature of my own life,” he responded with a laugh.

“Gorgeous writing though, don’t you think?” posed Este, leaving her bitten crusts on her plate with no plan of eating them.

Matty picked one up and tossed it into his mouth. “Oh, 100%. I mean, this one—where is it?” He began turning back to try and find a certain quote. “Here it is; ‘For a second I floated into privacy: the faraway mood of exhilaration that comes with excess, and I loved the excess, and loved the seeming permissiveness of that night. Who would I call, I wondered, if I stepped into the phone box? And the answer—so free of regret—was no one. I had no one to call and was quite glad about it.’ ” He braced his heart with his hand while reciting the text aloud.

She stood up and picked up their now empty plates, quickly rinsing them in the sink and setting them to dry.

“Absolutely lush,” Este reacted. “There’s a line that I haven’t stopped thinking of since I read it, where it says ‘They say you know nothing at eighteen. But there are things you know at eighteen that you will never know again.’ A quote like that can feel random with a moment that isn't necessarily retrospective—and this one isn’t—but something about its placement was so effective. Blew me away,”

He agreed, and went on. “I loved reliving the naivety of feeling like you have everything and everyone you need right where you are. Pure, proud friendships. How young and freeing is that? God, almost makes me emotional.”

A grin sat on her face. “I’m so tired of you being so profound about literature. Like, this is literally my job.” she complained. “Want to write for the column this week instead of me submitting my write up?”

“Pfft,” Matty shook his head. “You’re forgetting that I didn’t even pass my English GCSE.”

Wrapping up their small breakfast and doing a couple of rounds to make sure they weren’t forgetting anything, they eventually packed their stuff back into Este’s car boot and took off. Matty drove this time, agreeing before the trip that she’d do the journey in and he’d bring them back. But, before cruising onto the A5103 home to London, they headed into the city, to the northern quarter. There was one more stop to make.

Familiar pubs and shops filled them with nostalgia as they drove past and found a spot to park. They stopped a ways away from their destination, wanting to soak up the surprisingly tropical (for England, at least) weather and walk the rest of the way. Left, right, left, right, stepped their feet on the pavement in unison.

The silence they moved in encouraged Este to think about how rare the leisurely and quiet moments between the two of them would get as the year went on. She was grateful that she at least had the time off work to come along for their comeback shows in Japan for Summer Sonic. But, after that, Matty’s busyness would snowball, and by autumn, he’d be gone for months at a time to tour the new album.

“It’s sad that we won’t be able to do this for a while. When everything starts.”

Matty looked over at her, letting go of her hand to pull her into his side, wrapping her shoulder now enveloped by his arm.

“We’ve still got another week until Japan,” he pointed out.

“That’s no time at all, in my head. Plus, you’ll be swamped with more rehearsals all the way up until the day we leave.” she pouted.

“I know, I know,” said Matty, squeezing her briefly. “It’s going to be weird, too. Since we haven’t been on the road for quite a while. Been coddled by getting to have you around all the time.”

He wasn’t making her feel any better. “I’m going to miss you.” Este told him, even though he already knew.

“Don’t start missing me yet. I’m right here.” he said with a laugh as Este snuck her arm around his waist. Left, right, left, right. “Think of it like this—what did you say that one time, ages ago? We’ll be under the same sky, or whatever. Something cheesy like that.”

She bumped his hip at the sound of Matty teasing her, making him stumble slightly out of rhythm. But their feet found unison again.

“That was what, three years ago now? More? Your memory is scary.” Este commented.

“Hey—to be fair—those first days we spent together were like the best days of my life at the time. I thought about you saying that line to me for, like, months after it happened.” he added.

“Sap.”

A Starbucks rounded the corner and an elderly couple walked out. Este studied them as they approached; the man holding out a hot cup for the woman after propping the door open for her. She took it, linked her arm within his, and then took a sip.

Este expected to see her smile or thank the man, but instead a grimace appeared on her face.

“Taste’s shite, Harold.” The old woman complained.

Matty and Este held in their laughs and pretended that they didn’t hear it. Probably was the earl grey, Este thought, replaying the time she first introduced Matty to her grandmother, and how she talked of its flavour in distaste, much like the woman in front of them.

Their feet then carried them across the road. One of the signs on the corner of the intersection read Gore, the other Piccadilly. And they stepped into Greenhouse Books.

The orange carpet screamed with familiarity. Luckily, it was the time of day where Sam was still in—though preparing to head out upon the closer’s arrival—so he greeted them both with a warm hello (a tight hug for Este and firm handshake for Matty).

It was nearing three years since she bittersweetly resigned from the job she held dear to her heart, but also over eight since she’d first been hired. So, her and her ex-boss remained in touch, always up for a chat whenever Este was in town and eager to keep up with where her writing had taken her thus far. The shop was empty; so there they stood, hands still laced together, catching up with Sam. Though reminiscing and thinking of how long she spent revolving her life around Greenhouse made her feel a bit old.

Then, Matty and Este ventured into the shelves, separately, carrying out the purpose of stopping by; to buy a couple of books.

Matty sifted through each book carefully, picking one up with a loud green cover. Its art was charming and the poetic words across it jumped out at him, so he began to look further into it. But, after reading the blurb on the back cover, it seemed familiar.

He remembered that Este had reviewed it, back in June. Matty read every piece she wrote. She’d called it ‘cocky’, and claimed that the author wasn’t interested in his own characters. So, he shoved the lime coloured novel back into the gap left by him picking it up in the first place. One of the perks of loving someone whose opinions on literature were not only trusted by him, but also by a good chunk of the country who read the paper every morning, was that it helped him know which books to shove back in the gap and which books to give a chance.

This time of year was when the shelves were the fullest. Knowing that, Este felt eager to see some different titles instead of the ones she’d gotten to know so well. But truthfully, she realised that it had been a while since she actually knew the shop at all.

Its charm and ambitious spirit never changed—but plenty of books she remembered staring at years ago had inevitably sold, now no longer there. That’s how stores tend to operate, Este thought to herself embarrassingly. A couple of bays had swapped places. And her system for keeping the stationery supplies behind the counter organised had clearly gone out the window (which she noticed every time she came to visit and peered at its mess).

As much as being there made her miss the simplicity and comfort that Greenhouse served her for so long, it also only made Este prouder to be right where she was. How something so peaceful and passion-driven could grow to such a large scale. How it led her to the love of her life.

It felt liberating to have to search to find the poetry section. She couldn’t even recall where it had been back when she was still employed there.

Coincidentally, it was stationed right beside the small shelf of literary criticism that Matty had his eyes on. Her hand trailed horizontally along his lower back when she passed by to get to the desired genre, and she planted a kiss between his shoulder blades. They silently stood—side by side—with necks tilted to the right to read what each spine entailed. They browsed for a while, eventually witnessing Sam take off and leave the shop under one of his employee’s supervision.

She was a polite, bookish girl in her mid-twenties who had Matty and Este plenty of times over the years. So, when they finally had their picks in hand and walked up to the till, she sneakily (and as per her boss’s instruction) gave them a hefty discount. Este knew she would, and didn’t have the heart to protest, so she just purposefully paid in cash and rushed out of the door while shouting a grateful goodbye—not allowing her to give back any change. Chimes were heard as it opened and then shut again, one novel in each of their hands.

Then, with no exchange of conversation, they handed their book to the other. Matty’s for Este, and Este’s for Matty. It was an unspoken rule between the two of them—buying books with the other’s interest instead of their own—the endless stacks of novels upon novels living with them in their London home showing as evidence.

And as they walked away, Matty’s free hand found Este’s, the way it always did, and their once divergent stories continued to blend into one.

The End

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